Reble Is Here to Rap Better Than Everyone

At 12, Reble put pen to paper for the first time and instantly knew it wasn’t great. But she also knew something more important: she could do better. That instinct—that quiet, internal meter for potential—has stayed with her since. “Every time I wrote something, I’d tell myself, ‘this sucks, but I know I can top it.’ That voice is still there. It keeps pushing me.”

Born and raised in Meghalaya in India’s under-represented Northeast, Reble’s story screams of survival, reinvention, and proving that real talent, even in silence, doesn’t stay hidden forever. A self-described “lame kid” who used to eat lunch alone, she found her first sense of kinship in a voice that blasted through her headphones: Eminem. His song “Beautiful” felt like a hand extended in her direction. “I felt heard,” she says. “I felt like he came from chaos too, and that maybe we weren’t all that different.”

Her foundational trinity—Eminem, Biggie, and André 3000—shaped Reble’s approach. From Biggie, she learned flow and cadence. From Eminem, the catharsis of lyricism. And from André, the permission to experiment. “He’d rap over a four-by-four beat like it was a playground,” she says. “That was crazy to me.”

Sonic shifts: As her sound evolved, so did her self-awareness. Reble speaks often of her “alter egos,” the shifting inner selves that emerge across different timelines. “We’re not static,” she says. “I might feel one way today and the complete opposite tomorrow. Exploring those shifts—that’s where the magic is.” Her music reflects this flux: never confined to one mood, one persona, or one linear story.

For the culture: For all her complexity, she remains firmly rooted in her identity as a Northeastern artist—and proud of it. “This place raised me. The culture is in me, whether I rap about it or not.” But she’s wary of being boxed in, preferring to be heard on her own merit rather than as a token. “I do feel responsible to represent, but not because someone told me to. It’s just pride. But I also want to be seen as me.”

Talent over optics: Still, she knows the pressure that comes with being a woman in Indian hip-hop. She doesn’t frame it as just a gendered challenge. “It’s not about proving something to men. I want to prove myself to everyone. People don’t understand my potential yet—and that’s frustrating.” Her tone sharpens when she speaks of platforms that amplify women for optics rather than talent. “There’s so much skill out here, but when you put someone on stage just because they’re a woman—and they’re not ready—you ruin the representation. People start thinking women can’t rap. That’s messed up.”

Her thoughts spill quickly, not as rehearsed PR soundbites but as someone who’s been carrying these opinions for a long time. She’s seen too many gifted peers—especially women—get sidelined due to societal norms and lack of access. “I knew a girl who was one of the best lyricists I’ve ever met. But her family didn’t let her pursue it. No one even knows she existed. That haunts me.”

Testing times: Unlike many of her peers, Reble balanced the grind of building a discography with studying civil engineering. While others warned her against the difficulty of science streams and college life, she breezed through it. “Everyone kept saying it was hard, but honestly? It was easy. The only tough part was having a show and an exam on the same day—and picking the exam so I didn’t make my mom sad.”

Ready for all stages: Onstage, she’s still learning to make peace with the spotlight. “I get nervous. I’m not one of those artists pulling in a crowd that’s screaming my name. Most of the time, I’m performing in an early slot to strangers.” But she shows up anyway—despite the nerves, despite the odds. “That takes something,” she says. “You don’t know them, they don’t know you. But you still give them your truth.”

On the map: She refuses to name a favorite track from her catalog—“I’m proud of the recent stuff, but nothing feels like ‘the one’ yet.” That’s because she believes her best work is ahead of her. “My goal is to put out some of the best rap music to ever come out of South Asia. That’s not a maybe. That’s what I’m working towards.”

The future of music: As for what’s next? She’s betting on evolution—both for herself and the scene. She praises artists like Yashraj, Chaar Diwari, and Dhanji for pushing and shifting the narrative of Indian hip-hop. “India’s finally moving past the Bollywood sheen. There’s real music, real quality out there now.”

Even when asked about AI, she doesn’t flinch. “You either adapt to technology or it takes over,” she shrugs. “That’s not a threat. That’s just how things work. The smart ones—artists, brands, everyone—they’ll evolve. The rest? They’ll get left behind.”