Shirt'er Bhaanj
The creases in a shirt, and everything a shared wardrobe quietly remembers.
40 releases
The creases in a shirt, and everything a shared wardrobe quietly remembers.
“Tu sarab hai, aur main har dafa tujhe sach maan leta hoon.” A mirage you keep choosing to believe.
Falling for the same person again, years after the first time.
Close enough to hear each other breathe, and still asking for more.
Some nights are too good to say goodbye to.
The things you write on a wall of notes and never say out loud.
You aren't just a part of my life — you are the whole city I live in.
Rain always finds its way back to old memories.
Two cups, one slow morning, and the little things written in the margins.
New day, new chapter, new you — a window thrown open on a city.
One umbrella at India Gate, and a city that only softens when it rains.
Park Street after midnight, a yellow taxi, and nowhere in particular to be.
Every street sign in an old town pointing back to one person.
Two chairs facing the river, sixty years in, hands still held.
An open road at sunrise and no good reason to stop driving.
Sometimes silence says more than words do.
Some people feel like home the moment you choose them.
A rain-soaked verandah in an old house, and the person who makes it home.
Some rains don't just wet the streets — they bring back everything you tried to forget.
Understanding a father's silence only after you've grown up.
A balcony at sunset, an arm around your mother, nothing that needs saying.
A highway at golden hour, and the one person you'd take it with.
A hand reaching out of a moving train — a goodbye that refuses to be final.
The morning after, told entirely by an unmade bed.
A high floor, a city that never stops, and one very quiet room.
Two people on the same platform, walking in opposite directions.
Standing in a doorway, deciding whether to try again.
No matter where life takes you, this will always be your home.
A love song scaled up to the size of the moon.
Some evenings are not just lived, they are dedicated.
Dancing in the living room, no occasion required.
A café table, two strangers, and the first ten minutes of something.
An old letter, a photograph, and handwriting you'd still recognise anywhere.
Marine Drive from the back of a taxi, in a city that belongs to someone else.
Laughing in the front seat, through a city full of lights.
No crowds. No noise. Just you, just me — and that being enough.
Sitting on a ridge at sunset, working out how little you actually need.
Live today, because tomorrow was never promised.
A fictional love story set in another era — Calcutta and Bombay, 1978.
A meta-song about memory, love, ambition and becoming.
The poster wall
We design the artwork before a note is recorded. It settles the mood of the song, the look of the film and the palette of the campaign before anyone walks into the studio.
Shirt'er Bhaanj
9 Oct 2026
Sarab
15 Oct 2026
Aaj Phir Tumse
8 Nov 2026
Ami Tomake Chai
23 Nov 2026
Raat Baaki Hai
8 Dec 2026
Moner Kotha
23 Dec 2026
Dil Ka Sheher
7 Jan 2027
Bristi Elo
22 Jan 2027
Coffee Aur Tum
6 Feb 2027
Notun Kore
21 Feb 2027
Delhi Ki Baarish
8 Mar 2027
Kolkata Raat
23 Mar 2027
Tere Naam Ka Sheher
7 Apr 2027
Bhalobasha Ekhono
22 Apr 2027
Chalte Chalte
7 May 2027
Shobdo Nei
22 May 2027
Tum Ho Toh
6 Jun 2027
Tumi Amar Bari
21 Jun 2027
Yaadon Ki Baarish
6 Jul 2027
Baba
21 Jul 2027
Maa
5 Aug 2027
Tere Saath Safar
20 Aug 2027
Phir Milenge
4 Sep 2027
Jab Tu Chali Gayi
19 Sep 2027
Khamoshiyan Meri
4 Oct 2027
Aakhri Baar
19 Oct 2027
Doosra Mauka
3 Nov 2027
Ghar Laut Aana
18 Nov 2027
Chand Ke Paar
3 Dec 2027
Ek Shaam Tere Naam
18 Dec 2027
Sunday Wali Mohabbat
2 Jan 2028
Hum Dono Ajnabi
17 Jan 2028
Tera Khat
1 Feb 2028
Tera Sheher
16 Feb 2028
Kuchh Bhi Ho
2 Mar 2028
Tu Aur Main, Bas
17 Mar 2028
Chhoti Si Zindagi
1 Apr 2028
Kal Kisne Dekha
16 Apr 2028
1978
1 May 2028
Anksh
1 Dec 2028Next up
The waitlist gets one email per release, on release day, with the video and the streaming links. You can pick Hindi, Bengali or both.
