On 15th April 2026, I went to the Humayun’s Tomb Museum Auditorium, expecting an evening of Sufi music and an opportunity to hear my dear friend and favourite singer, Rene Singh, perform. What I didn’t expect was to walk away with a realisation: how little we understand the lived realities of our own people.

The event, titled Aj Da Roz Mubarak Chadiya, sought to explore the cultural, political, religious, and historical significance of the Panjab (spelt as Panjab, not Punjab). As moderator Mandira Nayar pointed out, it is time we begin to look at Punjab beyond the narrow frames of militancy, drugs, and decline, images that have come to dominate popular discourse.

What followed was a beautiful experience. Through music, poetry, and an overwhelming sense of mohabbat, the evening gently dismantled these stereotypes. I was reminded of something a Punjabi friend once said with unmistakable pride: “Assi Punjabi haan, jo karde ne rajj ke karde haan.” Whatever we do, we do wholeheartedly.

The performances drew from the timeless poetry of Amir Khusrau, Bulleh Shah, and Faiz Ahmad Faiz, voices that continue to echo across centuries, speaking of love, longing, and shared humanity. Rene’s singing was as evocative as ever, weaving together compassion and love, while Syeda Hameed ji added depth with her storytelling, grounding the experience in history and lived experience.

The kalaams, sung in Hindavi, Urdu, and Farsi, carried with them the essence of an undivided Panjab, the land of five rivers, where cultures met and mingled without borders. Sitting there, it became impossible not to feel how language, music, and poetry quietly defy the lines we draw on maps.

Panjab lives in its songs, in its words, and in its enduring spirit of love.