Zenareeta on Silence, Her Mother’s Voice and SumuHood

For Mumbai-based singer-songwriter Zenareeta, music and meditation have long been closely connected. After years spent exploring spirituality, philosophy and the inner workings of the mind, she has developed an independent creative path shaped as much by introspection as by personal experience.

Her single “SumuHood” brings that experience closer to home. Inspired by her mother, who stepped away from a singing career to raise her daughter, the song reflects on sacrifice, family and the dreams that can pass from one generation to the next. Its beginnings were equally personal: Zenareeta says the melody and lyrics came to her during a late-night meditation session.

Yet the story is not quite as simple as one generation giving something up for another. Zenareeta still mourns the career her mother might have had. Her mother sees the decision differently. She has always maintained that raising her daughter was what she wanted, and that she left her singing career behind happily.

That difference in perspective sits alongside the closeness between them. Zenareeta’s mother taught her to sing, introduced her to spiritual texts and remains someone she turns to when making music. When they heard the finished song together, both cried.

In this conversation with Good Hours, Zenareeta reflects on the years she spent in seclusion, the relationship between meditation and songwriting, and what it means to find her own voice while honouring the one that came before her.

Twelve Years of Quiet

Good Hours: You spent twelve years in seclusion, including a period when meditation could occupy as much as eight hours of your day. When you think back to the person who first entered that period and the person who eventually emerged from it, what had changed most?

First of all, love your questions!

I read my journal entries from exactly 12 years ago early this year, and compared it to my current journal entries. If my past journal entries were 5 pages long and circling the same ideas without reaching any conclusions, my current everyday journaling is brief, barely 5 sentences. Sometimes just one word.

That noise in my thinking has reduced drastically. There’s clarity in this brevity, in knowing myself, my darkness and the shadows and the light within. My past indecisiveness has gone. Many of my past conditionings got shattered. I realised that I no more work for the applause. Now I’m very selective with how I spend my time, what I consume and the people I let into my life. I work only for fulfilment. This has left me happier.

Good Hours: Most musicians are surrounded by sound almost constantly, while a large part of your life has involved deliberately seeking silence. Has silence changed the way you hear music?

Silence has certainly changed how I listen to music now. As a college kid I may have enjoyed the whole spectrum of top 100 Billboard latest pop hits. I remember my playlist had at least 300 songs! After I started my meditation journey, for almost ten years, I did not listen to any music nor watched TV and was inactive on social media simply because I didn’t enjoy these things anymore. I’d start listening to a song and pause it midway and remove my earphones. So my only interaction then with music was my everyday singing practice listening to my own voice and my singing practice playlist.

I restarted listening to music 2023 onwards. I’m down to only 15–20 songs now, that pass my personal bechdel test. I now only enjoy songs that align lyrically, are sonically upbeat and uplifting, classical Indian devotional music, flute, classical piano and Hans Zimmer movie scores. Basically anything I can listen to while I continue meditating. This clarity has definitely helped me become the artist I am today and what I stand for.

A Song That Arrived During Meditation

Good Hours: You’ve described “SumuHood” arriving during a late-night meditation almost as a complete song. What do you remember about those first few seconds when you realised something musical was happening — and how difficult was it to decide to interrupt the meditation and reach for your phone?

As soon as I heard the 1st verse, I immediately knew that this is a song I have to record and write it down, I had to stop meditating! There was no need to negotiate with me here! Then the chorus came, and so on. I can never fail to convince myself to do my duties of being an artist!

Good Hours: You say you rarely edit songs and that this one remained close to its first form. How do you distinguish between trusting an instinct and simply becoming attached to the first idea that arrives?

For some of my past songs I definitely heavily experimented, edited and came up with different versions of the same song, experimented vocally also of course. Then mom and I would listen carefully to all these 20 versions and go “the first draft is definitely the best!” So after a decade of honing my skills, I’ve come to a point now where I know when I sound my best vocally. I also realised that the less I meddle, the better it is!

Another time, when I first conceived a song lyrics, some of the lines did not make sense to me yet. But 6 years later when I decided to release it, I realised how deeply now the lyrics made sense to me. When “SumuHood” emerged, I sat with it for a whole year and waited in case I’d make any changes to it before starting the music production. But no instinct to edit ever came, making the final song same as the very first draft.

Her Mother’s Voice

Good Hours: The emotional story behind “SumuHood” belongs partly to your mother, who stepped away from her own career as a radio and television singer to raise you. When did you first begin to understand her decision as an adult rather than simply as her daughter?

I have felt the weight of her sacrifice heavily all my life. Especially at the age of 10, when she told me about all the career defining opportunities she said no to when she was pregnant with me. I’ve rarely not mourned it. Whenever I listen to a famous singer who’s similar in age to mom, I still think “that could have been mom now”.

Good Hours: You’ve described the idea behind the song with the words, “She gave up her voice so mine could exist.” Have you and your mother ever talked about whether she sees her story in those same terms?

We have talked about this my whole life. And every time she gives me that same old answer which is now part of the song lyrics: “Cast the pearls away for a diamond, threw it happily for my moon moon, didn’t care then, don’t care now”. Mom has always maintained that she did not “sacrifice” or “give up” her music career. That she simply “threw it away happily” to raise me. She has always been spiritually detached towards her career and things like fame, validation and success. She’s valued her motherhood far more, and made sure that she was there for me throughout my childhood without leaving me alone to focus on her music career in a different city miles away.

Dad was always busy with work, he travelled constantly and sometimes only came home 5 days a month. My childhood would have certainly been terribly lonely without her. I’d have missed out on my spiritual education and the vocal training which she gave me. But I still mourn for her music career. Almost everyday.

Good Hours: When you played the finished song to your mother and she cried, what happened after that first reaction? Was there a conversation between you that changed the way you understood the song?

We kept crying and crying. She immediately told me how accurate the song lyrics was from her point of view. Then she said “I have never heard about a single artist who wrote an autobiographical song about her mother”. And then I said, “this is happening.”

The Objects That Carry a Memory

Good Hours: The video turns this family story into a symbolic autobiographical film. Were there memories, objects, places or small details from your life with your mother that became particularly important when you were deciding how to represent that relationship visually?

While writing the screenplay for the music video, I immediately knew what would represent her. The Bhagavad Gita, her favourite book, which she taught me her whole life. The conch-shell she blows every day during the morning prayer. That is the same exact conch-shell that I hold in my hand by the end of the music video. The flowers she happily brings home and keeps it in the prayer room. In her everyday life, when she’s holding the flowers to offer it to Lord Vishnu and Mahalakshmi idols in the temple, she’s the happiest.

In the video I’m holding the flowers and the red candles to symbolise this, but also to mourn for her career. The conch-shell represents Lord Krishna blowing the conch-shell as the war commences in the Mahabharata, signalling the predestined victory of dharma. The Gita and the Mahabharata was part of my spiritual education at home, growing up.

An Ordinary Day in Mumbai

Good Hours: Meditation, Advaita Vedanta, science and space all enter your creative world, but everyday life still has to happen around those larger ideas. What does a completely ordinary day in Mumbai look like for you when you’re not writing, recording or meditating?

My everyday life rarely revolves around anything outside of meditation, music, Advaita, science and space! My typical day:

• 7–9 am: Meditation and reading. But my meditation doesn’t stop here. All day, no matter what I’m doing, I’m mentally chanting inwardly, concentrated on the heart chakra, continuously and non-stop as I eat, shower, sing, read or walk. Advaita is not just practiced for an hour or two, but all day! Some days, when I fail, I draw a cross on my journal’s calendar.
• 9:30–10 am: Vocal workout. Sometimes my vocal workout feels so powerful that I get into a state of meditative ecstasy.
• 10 am–12 pm: Singing practice, non-stop. I’m still meditative.
• 1–3 pm: Working on my yet-to-be-published philosophy books. Sometimes I paint too, mostly space themes. Often in a state of flow rather than meditation.
• 3:30–5 pm: Gym. Feeding stray cats on my way to the gym. The mind chatters a lot during my workout. “Why is a spinning black hole an oblate spheroid?”
• 5:30–7:30 pm: Working on upcoming songs to record, organising and planning the visual direction of upcoming photoshoot/music video, social media posts, writing/editing screenplays, song descriptions and notes, planning ad campaigns, recording a song in the studio or working with a producer. Writing my books, etc. Always improvising. This is when I mess up and forget my inward chanting.
• 8–9 pm: Journaling, discussing ideas with Mom, stargazing, watching my favourite shows on Netflix (these days I’m watching House M.D.), reflecting on their ideas while eating dinner. I keep a timer so I don’t spend more than 15 minutes scrolling on Instagram, because that’s when I mess up my inner meditation.
• 9–11 pm: Wim Hof breathing, back to sitting meditation, then sleep.

Sundays I look forward to my cheat meal, exploring new restaurants, going swimming, attending book-club events, movie premieres, art galleries, or simply going to a café or meeting a friend.

Returning to the Outside World

Good Hours: After spending so much time in seclusion, you also travelled through the Himalayas and Europe. Was there a particular place, encounter or ordinary moment during that period that made you feel yourself becoming curious about the outside world again?

Those 12 years I was honing my craft quietly, learning, learning, until I knew I was ready to launch myself as an artist. This realisation to come back to “regular life” and start my music career happened in Barcelona, Spain, at a cruise ship, where I participated in a singing competition and came in at top 4. So many strangers clapped for me loudly and complimented me. The love and praise I received felt overwhelming. Some strangers even met my parents and told them that they should be proud of me because of my singing talent.

My mom, too, one day had a spiritual premonition that my time to start my music career had come. A year later I started my music career. Those seclusion years definitely helped me stay undistracted on my path, making the artist I am today.

A Small Moment Worth Keeping

Good Hours: If you could preserve one completely ordinary memory of you and your mother — not a milestone, performance or achievement, just an everyday moment together — which one would you choose?

Me saying “Mommy!!!” and acting like a 5 year old kid in the most random moments of the day, violently moving her shoulder from left to right happily. And her going “yes yes got it, that’s enough, maybe save the rest for when we’re fighting will you!?”

It is a small, funny memory to end on. After the years of meditation, the long hours of practice and the careful work of turning her mother’s story into a song, Zenareeta chooses an ordinary exchange between the two of them.

Not a performance or a career milestone. Just a daughter calling for her mother, and a familiar answer coming back.

Zenareeta: Frequently Asked Questions

Who is Zenareeta?

Zenareeta is a Mumbai-based singer-songwriter whose creative practice brings together music, meditation and philosophy. She spent twelve years in seclusion developing her skills and exploring spiritual ideas before beginning her public music career.

What is Zenareeta’s song “SumuHood” about?

“SumuHood” is inspired by Zenareeta’s mother, a former radio and television singer who chose to step away from her career to raise her daughter. The song explores how Zenareeta feels about that decision and the relationship they share.

How was “SumuHood” written?

Zenareeta says the first verse arrived during a late-night meditation session. She stopped meditating to record the idea, and the chorus followed. She later spent a year considering possible changes before deciding to keep the song close to its first draft.

How does meditation influence Zenareeta’s music?

Zenareeta says meditation has changed both her creative instincts and her listening habits. After years of listening to very little recorded music outside her singing practice, she now chooses a smaller selection of songs and instrumental music that she feels supports her inner focus.

What does the conch shell mean in the “SumuHood” music video?

The conch shell is the same one Zenareeta’s mother uses during her morning prayers. Zenareeta includes it in the video as a personal connection to her mother and to the spiritual teachings she grew up with.

What made Zenareeta decide to begin her music career?

She recalls participating in a singing competition aboard a cruise ship in Barcelona, where she placed in the top four. The response from strangers helped her feel ready to begin sharing her music publicly. She says she started her music career a year later.

https://www.instagram.com/zenareeta

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