Whether Kangana Ranaut remembers him all the time is moot; Diljit Dosanjh is slowly inching towards the portal of the unforgettable in the global culture scene. From chartbuster albums to houseful concerts to acting accolades to the Met Gala red carpet to The Tonight Show hosted by Jimmy Fallon, Dosanjh is turning into a phenomenon, without losing his corporeality. A stardom so deeply anchored in the terra firma that it almost appears performative. Except it isn’t.
Punjabi singers’ global appeal is nothing new, thanks to the mammoth South Asian diaspora that hankers after the petrichor-scented rotti (food), dunaali (gun), mutiyaar (woman) and their paraanda (ornament), alongside the Lamborghini dreams in their Prada-shaded eyes.
No matter how bad the geopolitics is, weddings in both India and Pakistan, and wherever else they may be getting solemnised, aren’t complete without the ubiquitous Punjabi beats. Understanding the lyrics is purely incidental. Dosanjh, therefore, inherits a robust tradition of popularity, just like his visually coded Sikhi. And he takes them both to new apogees of representation.
Dosanjh has managed to turn the post-colonial philosopher Homi Bhabha’s idea of mimicry upside down. He is so rooted in his native culture that no wind of the fashionable West can sway him. He wears western clothes, speaks in accented English, sings in the tongue of the hybrid Punjabi, and thus displays his awareness of the culture imposed by globalisation. He is using all the tools in the master’s kit, and rather deftly. What he does even better is staying unperturbed by the trappings the kit comes with.
His stardom has never stopped Dosanjh from speaking his mind, in his language, in front of an audience that isn’t necessarily a stadium full of his fans. He lent support to the farmer protests of 2021 in a register that gobsmacked many.
His infamous spat with Kangana Ranaut kept Twitter abuzz for weeks. In every interview after that, he appeared unapologetic. He stood for the honour of his “mothers”. The classic benign patriarchy of the Punjabi man. He hadn’t known to be politically correct till then. No PR agency wants a client like that!
PR-mediated or not, Dosanjh has learned a thing or two about choosing his battles now. Like, not making a fuss when Cartier refused to lend him the Patiala necklace. Or, not paying attention to rumours linking him to Khalistanis on one hand and the Illuminati on the other. He sees the censorship delays of his film Punjab 95, biopic of human rights activist Jaswant Singh Khalra, as god’s “raza” (will).
What is unchanged is his utterly nonchalant humility. Something that can easily stick out as a sore thumb, if marred by even a fraction of artifice. He shared with Fallon that singing to a 50,000-plus crowd in Canada was a high point in his life because that stadium was barely two kilometres from the spot where around 350 Indians, mostly Sikhs, were denied permission to disembark on Canadian soil from their ship, the Komagata Maru, in 1914. Dosanjh recounted the experience in imperfect, broken English. But in that moment, his hybridity became iconic. He just wants to communicate, not signal. He is grateful, not servile.
In an era when most artists and celebrities are yet to define their “it” factor, Dosanjh has stockpiles of it. He is a globally renowned multimedia artist who is betting hard on his talent and relentless work ethic.
His demeanour remains that of an unbothered Iktara minstrel. Unbothered yet vulnerable, someone who cannot take the praise that comes his way for granted. He stands on top in full awareness of his journey and process.
He wears his heart on his sleeve, sure, but the arm has been pumping iron for a while now. Returning to Fallon’s show, Dosanjh is even humbler, more ensconced in his cultural milieu, more confident of its power. He chose one of his earthier singles, Morni, to perform at the show.
It was en pointe for Dosanjh, therefore, to be utterly clueless about what the university course on his cultural influence, offered by a Canadian university, was supposed to teach students. We have seen many celebrities, and even socialites, wax eloquent about their degrees that exist only in their heads. He was not even embarrassed about his cluelessness. He isn’t pretending to be anyone that he is not.
And that’s Diljit Dosanjh’s aura.
Nishtha Gautam is an author and academician. The views expressed are personal
