For Chandigarh-born singer songwriter Sahil Samuel, music has never been about chasing a sound or fitting into a genre. It’s a release, a compass, and often the only thing that stays steady when everything else feels uncertain. “I’ve never thought of genre as identity… I just followed what felt honest,” says Sahil, insisting that his music is rooted in instinct and a very personal space.
That philosophy is what shaped Marammat, his latest project, which he says is probably the most vulnerable chapter in his discography. Born out of a period where “everything felt uncertain,” the 32-year-old says the album wasn’t planned as a departure or a reinvention, but, as a form of repair and an emotional stitching-together that eventually became music. “The hardest part wasn’t a line or a note, it was being honest,” he says.
Across tracks that blend Hindi-Urdu lyricism with rock-driven energy, Sahil continues to lean into the emotional terrain that first drew listeners to singles like Zakir, Baawra and Sunday. But he refuses to frame evolution as a break from legacy. “Authenticity and evolution aren’t opposites. The voice my listeners connected with came from honesty. That still guides me,” he says.
{{/usCountry}}Across tracks that blend Hindi-Urdu lyricism with rock-driven energy, Sahil continues to lean into the emotional terrain that first drew listeners to singles like Zakir, Baawra and Sunday. But he refuses to frame evolution as a break from legacy. “Authenticity and evolution aren’t opposites. The voice my listeners connected with came from honesty. That still guides me,” he says.
{{/usCountry}}In an indie landscape shaped heavily by streaming, algorithmic discoverability and collaborations, Sahil still swears by the power of the stage. and believes that live shows remain the most under-valued space for indie artists today. “Sound can travel online, but soul can’t,” he says, describing the moment a crowd sings his lyrics back to him as the point where a song “stops belonging to me and starts belonging to everyone.”
That understanding of connection also shapes his songwriting today. If earlier records were born from heartbreak, Marammat arrived with a calmer clarity — not from chasing melodies but from waiting for what felt real. “My emotions found a rhythm before I did. I want to see how Marammat finds its place in people’s hearts. That’s the real reward,” he says.