Back in the early 2000s, as the millennials might recall, VIVA was unavoidable.
Their songs played across radio and television channels. Their debut album sold nearly 500,000 copies, and their first concert drew a crowd of 50,000 people.
Formed in 2002, through Channel V’s reality show, Coke V Popstars, India’s first mainstream, all-girl pop group included Neha Bhasin, Anushka Manchanda, Pratichee Mohapatra, Mahua Kamat and Seema Ramchandani, originally. They worked with the likes of Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy and Jaaved Akhtar and released two albums, ‘VIVA’ and ‘VIVA Reloaded’, which music platform and label KaanPhod (launched under JioStar) has now released on audio streaming platforms.
For many, these five represented a distinctly Indian version of the global girl-band fantasy (think Spice Girls or Destiny’s Child): glamorous, aspirational, emotional, and ahead of their time. Sitting with them now, it seems like no time has passed at all.
The room is loud. Kamat complains about menopause, Bhasin checks on her Zomato order, and Mohapatra asks if she has lipstick on her teeth. And when they’re asked if they remember their first meeting, they all start talking at the same time.
“I remember meeting Anushka at the auditions [in New Delhi],” Bhasin begins. “I thought she looked like Julia Roberts, vaguely.” Mohapatra clarifies that they all properly met during the Mumbai auditions, when the final 20 contestants from different cities were brought together.
The warmth between them is immediate and unmistakable. And maybe that’s what makes this reunion feel special. Not nostalgia alone, but the fact that after all these years — after fame, stuffy contracts, heartbreak and burnout — they still genuinely enjoy being around each other.
Money Talk
“But we sold more than Devdas at that time,” Bhasin reminds her, proudly. “It was in the newspapers.”
While the fame arrived quickly, so did the pressures of the industry. Listening to them now, one of the most striking things is how openly they speak about contracts, ownership, and the lack of protection artists had at the time — conversations that feel especially relevant for younger musicians navigating the entertainment business today.
“Nothing at all,” Kamat says, when asked if they knew what to do when they were handed out 52-page contracts to sign as teenagers. “We had no idea about numbers.”
“Because [the label] owned everything,” Mohaptra replies, as the rest of them nod, and Manchada adds that she would never again sign a piece of paper without showing it to a lawyer first.
But swept up in the excitement of suddenly becoming stars, Mohapatra sighs admitting that they entered the industry in good faith. Bhasin, whose father signed her contract, notes that none of them really understood the implications back then.
She adds that 20 years later that things haven’t improved all that much. “Recently, I sang a Punjabi song, and nobody spoke about the contract. There was no money discussion. Then suddenly the label puts pressure on the producer and they tell you to sign the same day. Though the music director was a friend, I said no.”
But they didn’t couldn’t do that back in the day. “Take it or leave it,” is what they would say if they had tried to, Mohapatra says. And if they dared suggest any changes to the contracts, they would simply be replaced.
Manchanda agrees, recalling a time when a singer insisted on royalties, they would be asked not to do it at all. That was when she was disillusioned.
“We were also on very extensive contracts,” Kamat explains. “After the band split, [we had to think] about what we could or could not say."
A New Age
They understand that the industry has changed. Discussing modern K-pop systems and influencer culture, they acknowledged that younger artists today arrive far more prepared — and sometimes excessively so.
“They come having done plastic surgery, now,” Mohapatra jokes.
Bhasin and Manchanda agree that the cookie-cutter, one-size-fits-all formula doesn’t seem to be working well. But as Manchanda says, “There’s an extensive amount of money being pumped into it, and the art of it gets influenced by what needs to work for the business.”
In their time, though they were allowed to have more personality, there were other problems.
In a 2021 interview with The Indian Express, Bhasin had said, “When we started our career with Viva, we had it in our contract that we should not gain even a kilo extra on our existing weight.”
Mohapatra adds that it was partly because there was a television show attached and people wanted to get to know them.
Kamat cuts in. “Of course, we had media training,” she says. But it was basic. They did some mock questions and that was that.
Unlike today’s pop stars, they came in with no experience and had no creative control. Jaaved Akhtar wrote much of their discography, and they appreciated the vision he had, getting them to sing about social issues like bodily autonomy and challenging systemic oppression.
By the second album, there were two songs that Bhasin and Manchanda wrote themselves: “Yeh Pyaar Nahin Toh Kya Hai” and “Zindagi Mere Saath.”
“They credited us badly on the CD though,” Bhasin laughs. “But we did have an opportunity to explore more creatively.”
Speaking of singing together, one of Mohapatra’s most cherished memories is from Viva’s final concert in Kolkata. Knowing the band was coming to an end, the four of them stood shoulder to shoulder and sang “Zindagi Mere Saath” a cappella. In many ways, that’s where they still stand — side by side — even if there’s no reunion on the charts for now.