Diljit Dosanjh and the burden of being a cultural icon
Beyond representation, what do our superstars owe us?
Diljit Dosanjh at his concert at Madison Square Garden in New York in May.
Instagram/@diljitdosanjh
Words by Nimarta Narang
At the beginning of July, Diljit Dosanjh's long-delayed film Satluj—formerly titled Punjab '95—became available on the Indian subscription streaming service ZEE5, capping a certification battle that had been ongoing since 2022. The film casts Dosanjh as Jaswant Singh Khalra, the real-life human rights activist whose investigation into thousands of alleged illegal cremations and enforced disappearances during the militancy years of India’s state of Punjab, brought the issue to national attention before Khalra himself was abducted by police and disappeared in 1995. The Central Board of Film Certification—a statutory film-certification body in the country’s Ministry of Information and Broadcasting—had reportedly sought more than 120 cuts before filmmakers abandoned a theatrical release internationally altogether, and producers also pulled the film from its planned premiere at the 2023 Toronto International Film Festival.
Less than 48 hours later from when it began streaming, ZEE5 removed Satluj from its catalogue because of “current developments,” effectively making the film no longer available in India. Dosanjh responded in Punjabi on an Instagram Live on July 6, a video that is no longer available, drawing a direct line between the film's fate and Khalra's own. Days later, the Federation of Western India Cine Employees, the industry body that had previously sought a ban on Dosanjh, publicly questioned why he keeps choosing controversial projects at all. On Friday, a plea seeking restoration of the film on the streaming platform was dismissed by the Punjab and Haryana High Court.
This was not the first time this year Dosanjh's platform has been tested. A little more than a month into his North American tour, which ran from April 23 to June 21, a handful of social media videos circulated expressing disappointment at a lyric in one of his newer songs, “Aroma.” In one video in particular posted on June 1, coincidentally the start of Pride Month in the United States, content creator Faith Michael shared that the song, "celebrated the idea of traditional masculinity and the best way to glorify masculinity is by putting the queer community down"—specifically referring to the use of the term “chakke,” a colloquial derogatory term for a third gender or effeminate men in parts of India. The lyrics with the term, in a translation provided by Michael in the video, were, “These are the talks of men, not of weaklings. This is the talk of courage and grit, not of chakke.” The song, released on April 23, had become a hit until people started paying closer attention to the meaning. Dosanjh and his team have not responded to fans’ upset as of yet. Only a few publications picked up the story.
Taken together, these two controversies complicate Dosanjh's situation more than either one alone would suggest. With “Aroma,” his platform amplified a piece of casual cruelty he may not have written but chose to release, and the pressure came from fans asking him to hold himself to a higher standard. With Satluj, that same platform ran into a censorship apparatus that would rather the story of a disappeared man simply disappear again. The pressure from an industry body that has previously sought a ban on him pushed in the opposite direction: to stop making the kind of work that invites this level of institutional friction at all. He is being asked, within the same month, to be both more accountable and more careful.
As if to address both these incidents, a comment on a recent post on Dosanjh’s Instagram shared: “I hope that you understand now that art is political. You’re not just an artist. Make sure you’re ready to answer the difficult questions! :/”
The shock expressed in the “Aroma” videos can be attributed to Dosanjh's otherwise less disputatious career. Early in his career as a singer, his songs did feature guns and themes of masculinity that he has since seemingly left behind. Punjabi music has a history of misogyny, sexism, opulence, and violence, among other tropes, and in the past few years there have been newer artists experimenting with the parameters of Punjabi music. Dosanjh’s music perhaps increased in popularity because it honored the traditional joyous beats of the music while foraying into more wholesome topics of hard work, love, tradition, and faith.
For fans who have celebrated Dosanjh as a cultural ambassador and symbol of Punjabi pride over the years, the “Aroma” controversy raised a thornier question: Once representation has been achieved, what obligations do our icons have to the communities that celebrate them? The Satluj saga complicates that question rather than answering it. Here was Dosanjh doing exactly the kind of morally serious and historically grounded work fans might have wished for, only to have it suppressed by the very industry he operates within.
The North American leg of Diljit's Aura World Tour came to an end in San Francisco. In August and September, he is heading to Europe and the United Kingdom to close out the tour, with a confirmed stop at Wembley Stadium in London, where he will be one of the first South Asians, if not the first Punjabi artist, to headline. At its surface, this world tour is a culmination of Dosanjh’s rise to mainstream fame.
Alongside the first part of his tour, his film, Main Vaapas Aaunga, released in June in India, in which he plays the lead romantic hero—a role Sikh men in Hindi movies have not historically been given the chance to explore. Imtiaz Ali, the film's well-known Hindi film director, had previously worked with Dosanjh, enlisting the singer-actor in a lead role in Amar Singh Chamkila to embody a historical Sikh figure. This new film, however, sees Dosanjh playing a fictional character, expanding Bollywood's narrative realm of Sikh men protagonists.
Satluj marks a second attempt for Dosanjh at inhabiting a historical Sikh figure, and the gulf between how the Chamkila project was received says something on its own. Chamkila, a biopic of a controversial Punjabi folk singer, streamed on Netflix while Satluj, a biopic of a human rights activist who disappeared at the hands of the state, could not survive 48 hours on an Indian platform. Dosanjh appears drawn to real Sikh figures whose stories complicate official narratives. It is simply that this time, the story hit closer to power.
Dosanjh's career has seen him pave the path as the first in many avenues. In 2023, Dosanjh made history by becoming the first Punjabi-language singer to perform at Coachella. The following year, he made his U.S. television debut on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon and headlined a concert at BC Place in Vancouver, British Columbia that was touted as "the largest show by a Punjabi artist outside India." Last year, he made his debut at the Met Gala, where he represented his heritage in a Prabal Gurung sherwani, a turban, and the Sikh article of faith, the kirpan (a blade that resembles a knife)—Vogue readers even enshrined him with the top look of the night, cementing how he has broken new ground in fashion as well. In fact, Vogue brought him back for their "In the Bag" series in early July.
As a performer, Dosanjh is striking. On May 25, I watched him enter the stage on his second day at Madison Square Garden (another history-making turn, as he is one of the first South Asian artists to sell out concerts in the iconic venue) by saying his iconic line, "Punjabi aagaye hai!" His face was covered in a black cloth matching his black kurta and tamba (Punjabi traditional outfit similar to one he wore at Coachella), and after he made the announcement that "Punjab has arrived," he removed it to reveal a grin. The rest of his intro was in Punjabi, and he even took a second to shout out Jimmy Fallon for highlighting Punjabi music just a month prior.
The entire stadium saw audiences on their feet dancing to his music. People from all ages—children to older uncles and aunties—attended the concert dressed either in his concert merch, traditional clothes, or what could be described as fusion outfits. Halfway through, Dosanjh returned to stage in a red Moncler jacket—a nod to his fashion acuity—which he then promptly gave away to an audience member by tossing it to the screaming crowd in front of him. Wearing his Jordans throughout, Dosanjh performed bhangra with various groups of background dancers, brought audience members up to stage (ranging from children to young adults), and ended his concert by descending down the stairs to sing with the crowd while simultaneously signing autographs and accepting various gifts.
It was clear that this was a family friendly celebration for a community that seldom gets to celebrate at such a grand scale in the United States. From his outfits, to dances, to fan interaction, Dosanjh and his team have been intentional about the curation of his performances, and by extension, his career’s ascent. "My English is weak but I'm a good guy," Dosanjh proclaimed at one point in his concert. In an industry that has historically rewarded assimilation, his insistence on speaking Punjabi and foregrounding his Sikh identity has made audiences feel celebrated rather than translated. Which is why it may be harder to understand why an artist who has seemed so intentional about his career growth would suddenly regress by way of songwriting—even though Dosanjh is not listed as the songwriter on “Aroma,” he is still responsible for the song.
Perhaps Dosanjh and his team didn't think anyone would pay attention to the lyrics, which they didn't initially. Or if they did, they figured it would be brushed off as just one song. Unfortunately, the hypervisibility that Dosanjh has provided to Punjabi music on a global platform also means that its contradictions get highlighted as well—whether that visibility is drawing scrutiny to a careless lyric or drawing state attention to a film a censorship board would rather bury.
The firsts are celebrated because they can feel like collective victories. One can hope that the stars, or breakouts not only break barriers but embody values that we want to see in ourselves. Cultural icons can expand who gets to occupy the center of the stage while still reflecting the prejudices and contradictions of the societies that produced them. Their success does not absolve them from criticism; if anything, it makes criticism more consequential. Which is why it will be revealing to see how Dosanjh continues to navigate both fronts at once—the accountability owed to the communities he represents, and the pressure to simply stop making anyone uncomfortable at all.
Published on July 22, 2026
Words by Nimarta Narang
Nimarta Narang is a writer and journalist from Bangkok, Thailand. Currently based in New York, she is a graduate of Tufts University, the University of Oxford, and has received her master's from New York University. She has lived in Bangkok, London, Oxford, Minneapolis, Los Angeles, and New York. She is part of the Autumn Incubator, the inaugural Gold House Journalism Accelerator, and a member of Gold House Book Club.