English, Hindi, Bengali voiceover artist

Profile photo for Chanda Singh
Not Yet Rated


Narrating a story written by self. Learnt voiceover dubbing techniques at SugarMediaz, Mumbai

Vocal Characteristics



Voice Age

Young Adult (18-35)


British (General) Indian (General) Indian (Hinglish)


Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Hi, This is chanda Singh sharing one of my stories, the strange shop. The rains in Mumbai were truly unpredictable. Thought Oshima. She was out shopping at the other circle for her daughter Minhas wedding when it started pouring, she could barely manage her umbrella and the shopping bags with the wind blowing so strong, Oshima looked for a place where she could wait till the rain slowed down as she had to walk up to the other station and catch a train home. It was getting late and most of the shops had shut down. She ran to the nearest one with a shade and took shelter under it. The shop appeared deserted and not in good shape. The outside was dirty and blackened. The letters on the sign board had faded away. It probably read amrit Lal once upon a time. The rains lashed at her and she held out the umbrella to avoid getting wet. At least she could keep her bags down against the door of the shop. Suddenly Oshima was surprised to hear a voice call out to her from somewhere inside the shop, madam, why don't you come inside? It's raining rather heavily and you will get soaking wet if you stand there. It was a shopkeeper smiling at her welcoming Lea Oshima realized that she had mistaken the heavy drapes covering the entrance for a door. The man now drew the drapes aside and let her in Inside. Things were in much better shape. There was a nice so far for customers to sit on and Oshima thankfully settled on it. The kind shopkeeper even offered her a cup of tea. So, how are the wedding preparations going on? He asked much to Oshima surprise. How did this man know about Minos wedding? I see that you have bought many sorries madam. However, nothing can match the one Amrit Lal has made for you. The peacock blue you had selected was a pleasure to work on. I'm sure you will like the Golden Zari work on it. It is one of my best work still did. Which, sorry, are you talking about? Wonder Oshima. I don't remember ordering any from you. Why madam. How could you forget that lovely silk? I agree. It is past the delivery date, but such intricate embroidery cannot be done in a hurry. Was this man Crazy in the head? Thought Oshima. You had even paid for it in advance, madam. Here, let me show you the bill. Oshima looked at the name and address in the customer column on the bill and smiled. It read Mrs Sinha form a Todas colony. Ju Oh! So mother had picked a sorry secretly for me. Mrs Sinha was Oshima's mother And Oshima looked very much like her. Amrit Lal could easily have made a mistake. The Sari is indeed beautiful. Amrit Lal. I'm sorry. It slipped my mind. I understand madam. I have two daughters of my own and their weddings have not been any easier. Oshima was smiling to herself as she left the shop, she would go to her mother's place right away and surprise her with the sorry, it had stopped raining as suddenly as it had started, she decided to stay the night with her mother and called up home to inform her husband and menu accordingly. Yeah. Mrs Sinha was sitting on her veranda when Oshima arrived with the shopping bags. Hey, where are you coming from? A shoe? She exclaimed, pleased to see her daughter. I have come to spoil your surprise, Ma, smile Oshima! I know of the secret gift you have been hiding away from me. No. What are you talking about? I have not planned any secret gift for my granddaughter. I know how she hates my surprises. But Ma, didn't you order a sorry from Amrit Lal Amrit Lal, Which Amrit Lal are you talking about? Not the one at the other. That's the one here. Let me show you the sorry, it's beautiful. Oshima looked through her bags in vain. The peacock blue Sari was not to be found, but she clearly remembered putting it in. Mrs Sina asked her daughter to describe the sorry, her face saddened as Oshima told her about the intricate golden work on the peacock blue silk Amrit Lal was burned down decades back. My dear. It was just before your marriage. I had ordered this wonderful Sorry for you As a parting gift. Amrit Lal had promised to do the embroidery in a week's time, but three days later his shop was burned down due to a short circuit and no one survived. Oshima was dumbfounded, but Ma, he gave me the bill. She rummaged through her purse and found the piece of paper. But this was an old piece of paper charred at the edges. She could barely read the contents. All she could make out was Amrit Lal sena jew.