Hero Worship Gets a Beatdown and a Bassline in Daira’s New Song “Talwaar”

Let’s not tiptoe around this—Talwaar is a goddamn middle finger dressed as a dance track. Daira, those Mumbai art-rock mischief-makers with a knack for turning angst into acid jazz, are back with a song that hits like a manifesto hurled through your living room window.

This is not your regular ‘rock anthem’. Mixed and mastered by Rex Vijayan, Talwaar doesn’t rock—it struts. It doesn’t whisper dissent but sings it with a shit-eating grin. The guitar lines are boastful, and the basslines don’t walk, they sashay, slick with spice and self-awareness. The drums snap like they’ve got somewhere to be. And Piyush Kapoor’s vocals is a soul that’s been marinating in sarcasm and heartbreak for a decade. He croons like he’s preaching, but the sermon’s got razor-sharp claws.

This song is about hero worship, yeah, but not the kind that makes you want to build statues. It’s about how those statues slowly lean over and squash you while you smile and ask for another round. This ain’t subtle. And thank god for that. Because subtlety is for cowards. Talwaar goes for the jugular, but it’s smart enough to make you dance while you bleed. And Daira? They know how to hurt just right.

The accompanying video, directed by Barun Kashyap, is a surreal, comic-book fever dream. Enter Carrotman and Carrotwoman—costumed symbols of authority viewed through the imagination of a child. It’s absurd and brilliant. Kashyap drives home the idea that the first place we learn to obey, to submit, to trade freedom for approval—is home. The smallest political unit. The dinner table as battleground.

Listen to Talwaar by Daira on Spotify!

They haven’t lost their edge—hell, they’ve filed it down into a scalpel. This is art-rock with guts, funk with fangs, and a righteous sense of chaos that refuses to be boxed in.