Why Do Our Malls Echo Only English Songs?

Poonam Sharma
Walk into almost any mall, luxury hotel, café, airport lounge, or shopping complex in India, and one thing feels instantly familiar—not because it is Indian, but because it is not. Soft English pop, Western jazz, global lounge music, or Billboard hits float through the air as if they are the default soundscape of “modern India.” From Delhi to Dibrugarh, from Kochi to Kolkata, the playlist barely changes.

This raises a serious and deeply uncomfortable question: why does a civilization with thousands of years of musical heritage choose to silence itself in public spaces?

This is not an argument against Western music. Music has no borders, and cultural exchange enriches humanity. The problem begins when exchange turns into replacement—when one sound becomes the only sound allowed to represent sophistication, class, or modernity.

A Civilization of Music, Reduced to Background Silence

India is not just a country that “has music.” India is music. From the Vedic chants that predate written history to the intricate grammar of Hindustani and Carnatic classical traditions, from Baul songs of Bengal to Bihu of Assam, from Lavani of Maharashtra to Yakshagana of Karnataka—every region breathes rhythm, melody, and storytelling.

India has:

22 official languages

Hundreds of folk traditions

Thousands of instruments—many found nowhere else in the world

Devotional, seasonal, agrarian, romantic, heroic, and philosophical musical forms

Yet none of this seems “fit” to play in a mall.

Why?

The Colonial Hangover of “Class” Somewhere deep in our collective psychology, a dangerous equation has settled in:

English music = modern, global, classy Indian music = traditional, emotional, occasional

This is not accidental. It is the aftereffect of colonial conditioning where Western aesthetics were positioned as superior, refined, and aspirational. Even after political independence, cultural validation continued to come from outside.

Today, many corporate managers, hotel chains, and retail brands believe that English music creates a “premium international vibe.” Indian music, in their view, is risky—too local, too emotional, too “loud,” too identity-specific. But what they are really afraid of is Indian self-confidence.

Global Countries Play Their Own Music—Why Not Us?

Travel to France, and you will hear French music proudly playing in cafés and shopping streets.
In Japan, J-pop and instrumental Japanese music dominate public spaces.
In South Korea, K-pop is not just entertainment—it is cultural assertion.
In the Middle East, Arabic instrumental and contemporary local music fills hotels and malls without apology.

These societies do not fear that their culture will make them look “less global.” They understand something we seem to forget: Being rooted does not make you backward. It makes you authentic. Why is India—one of the oldest living civilizations—so hesitant to sound like itself? Music Is Not Just Sound—It Is Identity Music subconsciously tells us who we are. When public spaces play only Western music, a silent message is sent every day:

“To belong here, you must sound Western.”

Children grow up associating English music with success and Indian music with festivals or nostalgia. Regional artists remain invisible in daily life. Folk traditions survive only in “heritage shows,” not as living culture. This is not neutral. This is cultural narrowing.

Not Devotional, Not Filmy—Just Indian

A common excuse is: “Indian music is either devotional or film-based.”
This is simply untrue. India has: Rich instrumental traditions (santoor, flute, veena, sarangi, mridangam)

Contemporary Indian fusion ,Classical instrumental ragas perfect for ambient settings ,Regional indigenous  music that rivals global quality, Soft Hindustani instrumentals, Carnatic ragas, Assamese bamboo flute, Rajasthani strings, Manipuri percussion—these are ideal for public spaces. Calm, elegant, and deeply Indian. The issue is not availability. The issue is intent.

Are We Ashamed of Our Own Sound?

This is the uncomfortable truth we must confront.

When an Indian space avoids Indian music, it reflects a lack of cultural self-esteem. It suggests that our own art is suitable only for “special occasions,” not everyday sophistication.

But culture survives not through slogans, but through daily presence.

If our malls, hotels, and airports cannot sound Indian, where will Indian culture breathe? This Is Not Opposition—This Is Balance Let this be clear: this is not a call to ban Western music. Music should be inclusive, diverse, and global.

The question is about balance.

Why not:

50% Indian instrumental or regional music

Rotational playlists from different states

Promotion of contemporary Indian composers

Region-specific music reflecting local identity

A mall in Chennai can sound Tamil.
A hotel in Jaipur can sound Rajasthani.
An airport in Guwahati can sound Assamese.

This is not regression. This is confidence. Cultural Nationalism Without Noise Real cultural pride does not shout slogans. It simply exists. It plays softly in the background while people shop, eat, walk, and live.

When Indian music becomes part of everyday soundscape, something subtle but powerful happens:

Identity strengthens

Artists gain visibility

Children grow up hearing their roots

Culture stops being decorative and starts being lived

Time to Reclaim the Sound of India

India does not lack culture.
India lacks cultural assertion.

If we can consume global brands, speak global languages, and engage the world confidently, we can also let our own music play without embarrassment.

A nation that cannot hear itself slowly forgets itself.

The next time you walk into a mall and hear yet another English playlist, ask silently: What does modern India really sound like—and who decided it shouldn’t sound Indian? That question alone is the beginning of cultural awakening.