This Onam, Vijay Yesudas lends his mellifluous voice to a celebratory track, Onam Club 2025, alongside Ranjini Jose and Rakesh Brahmanandan — a spirited number that captures the festive verve of Kerala through rhythmic beats, lush visuals and a sense of cultural nostalgia. And as if the Onam Club weren’t reason enough for his fans to rejoice, earlier this week, Vijay returned to Bengaluru after a long hiatus, taking centre stage at the 63rd Bengaluru Ganesh Utsava. We took this opportunity to do a quick Onam special shoot at Justbe by Nidhi Nahata with the artiste, where he opened up about his cherished festive memories, his new track and completing 25 years in the music industry!
For those who have followed his journey, the release feels like a timely reminder of the singer’s effortless finesse in moving between cinematic melodies, classical and festive folk traditions. The son of the legendary KJ Yesudas, Vijay has long carved out his own musical identity, his repertoire balancing the gravitas of classical training with the versatility of playback singing across Malayalam, Tamil, Telugu and Kannada cinema. The voice behind hits like Maangalyam, Manohari, Mamarangale, Sahara and Manamariyunnolu, the multi-talented personality has even graced the silver screen, showcasing his acting prowess in Maari, Avan, Kolaambi, Paranthu Po and more.
Let’s begin with discussing Onam Club, your latest collaborative release...
This Onam, something very unique came about thanks to my friend and colleague, singer Rakesh Brahmanandan, whose father, like mine, is a legendary singer. He composed a song and shared it with me and our close friend, Ranjini Jose. The three of us have a WhatsApp group and Rakesh, being his usual formal self, sent it saying, “If you like it, we can work on it.” I loved the track and suggested we take it forward. A day later, in August, he suddenly messaged the group, “I think Ranjini and Vijay are free tomorrow for recording. I’m taking the train to Kochi today.” We laughed because there were only three of us in the group, yet he was talking in third person! By the next morning, I flew from Chennai, met them at Charles Nazareth’s studio in Kochi and by midnight, we had finished recording our vocals. The energy was so infectious that I decided it couldn’t just remain a recording and we had to make it a celebratory music video. I quickly got my company involved, called choreographers and arranged dancers and extras. Initially, Rakesh was hesitant about featuring in the video, but I insisted it had to be all three of us together. We released it for Onam and it’s been doing really well!
What does Onam mean to you?
Onam, like many of our festivals today — whether it’s Deepavali, Christmas or others, has grown into a shared celebration over the last couple of decades. Thanks to social media, it’s become more inclusive, with people across India and even abroad joining in; in places like Dubai and the US, festivities sometimes continue well into November. For me, Onam is about coming together — family, friends and of course, the food. The Onam sadhya is always the highlight, along with the decorations and pookalam, which you see in their most natural beauty in Kerala. Having spent much of my life in Chennai and the US, I didn’t witness that often, but now being back, I get to enjoy it more closely. To me, Onam is simply a beautiful way of uniting people and sharing traditions.
Are there any cherished Onam memories that you hold very dear to your heart?
Onam is special to me. Every Onam feels special in its own way. This year stands out because, in just 10 days, we managed to produce, record, mix, shoot and release a song, a whirlwind but such a fulfilling experience. The past decade or so has also been memorable, celebrating with my kids; my daughter is 16 now and my son is 10, so, these festivals with them have been very precious. Onam is also deeply tied to my career. Back in 1998, my father’s company, Tarangini, released an album called Thiruvona Kaineettam. If you look at Instagram even now, you’ll see that one of the songs, Chandanavala, from that album, especially the veena and flute section, still comes up every Onam season. That was actually my debut recording, before I officially became a professional singer in 2000. I was just 18, in the US, recording in a family friend’s bedroom. My voice was raw, unpolished, not yet the ‘adult’ singer I would grow into, but it was my first step. Two years later, in 2000, I had my proper debut in Malayalam cinema. So in many ways, my career really began with Onam.
Speaking of Onam songs, what are your personal favourites?
From the same album (Thiruvona Kaineettam), my dad’s song Aaro Kamazhthivechoru is composed by none other than Vidyasagar and he’s a composer for my debut as well, so, there’s always a connection with him and this is one of my Onam favourite songs from that album.
You come from a family of musicians. Did music come naturally to you too or did you actively pursue it?
My father began training in carnatic music when he was just five years old and was already performing small kacheris in his hometown, Fort Kochi, by the age of twelve. He’s what you would truly call a prodigy. My own journey into music was slower, more natural, almost like a diamond slowly being chipped into shape, no rush, no urgency. I didn’t come into it the way he did, with the kind of struggles he faced, but I had my own challenges and my own way of growing into it. Unlike him or even many of my peers, I wasn’t as rigorously trained in the beginning. In fact, it’s a bit like how SPB used to describe himself. He always said he didn’t go through formal, disciplined training, yet he could sing all kinds of songs. I’ve taken a similar path, though of course, I did train later on. Initially, I learned with my father’s classmate, who stayed with us in Chennai for about a year. Then I moved on to train under Ramamoorthy Rao, a disciple of pandit Bhimsen Joshi and that was when my voice really began to expand. Later, I was introduced to ustad Ghulam Niyaz Khan from Mumbai and I trained under him for about two or three years. All of this intense training really happened within the first fifteen years of my career. After that, you get caught in the rat race and finding time for such rigorous practice becomes harder, but training does happen now and then, whenever really possible.
You’ve completed almost 25 years as a professional musician, acted in a few films too, tell us a bit about your journey and what’s next for you?
I started getting my breaks in Malayalam and Tamil — Tamil happened much earlier, around 2003. Back then, the entire industry was heavily dependent on film music and as singers, we relied on music directors to give us opportunities. For nearly 15 years, playback singing was the centre of it all. But gradually, things began to shift. Independent bands started emerging, musicians began creating on their own and films themselves stopped depending so much on individual singers. Now, it’s at a stage where you’re almost pushed to ask yourself: What can I do on my own? What can I create that reflects my own identity, my own personality? That’s what I’m trying to explore now. It’s taken me 25 years to step out of that comfort zone of being ‘just a playback singer’ and honestly, I’m still transitioning. Playback singing will always be a part of me — it’s what has carried me for two and a half decades. But going forward, I want to build something that feels more personal, more ‘me.’ As a performer, though, I don’t think I’ve changed. I’ve always been someone who’s lively and vibrant on stage, the kind who loves jumping into the crowd and feeding off their energy. That part of me hasn’t gone anywhere, and I don’t think it will — at least not as long as my knees allow me to keep doing it! Acting in films is something that came into my life much later, around 2015, with Maari. Since then, I’ve dipped my toes into a few projects, but I’ve been very intentional about taking it slow. There are so many new filmmakers now with unique perspectives and subjects and I’m really excited about the possibility of working with them.