I was listening to Guru Randhawa’s song Sirra and it struck me how much Punjabi pop has in common with… Rigveda. Not the theology ofcourse but the attitude and the spirit. It is the same celebration of pride, power, land, wealth, rivals, and desire, all celebrated without the slightest embarrassment or garnish of the typical obsession to be small and insignificant and disguised as intellectual spirituality. Read some of these lyrics in English and they could almost pass for verses from a hymn to Indra. Tusi Jithe Vi Jaane O, Sira Karo Wherever you go, you establish your supremacy. Kinni Aa Paili Ni Minti Ni Koyi So vast are our lands that none can measure their extent. Har Din Da Masla, Chak Ke Asla Each day brings a new conflict, and we take up our arms. Pange Kyun Paune O? Pange Kyun Paune O? Why do you provoke us? Why do you seek a quarrel? Eh Taan Sadi Hundi Sardari Nakhro Such is our lordship, O beautiful one. And then comes my favourite: Leerhe LV De Pakki Aa Garaari Nakhro My heart is firmly set upon garments of Louis Vuitton, O beautiful one. Replace Louis Vuitton here with horses, cattle and gold ornaments, and we’re back in the Bronze Age with songs of Indra. I think we often forget just how worldly, physical and materialistic the Rigveda is. We’re so used to associating ancient Indian religion with renunciation, detachment and the pursuit of nonsense like Mukti and Moksha that the Rigveda can feel almost blasphemous to the average Indian. There are hymns asking the gods for wealth, cattle, horses, sons, victory over enemies and long lives. Poets praise kings and patrons for their generosity, sometimes going into great detail about the gifts they received. Indra drinks enormous quantities of Soma, defeats his enemies, wins cattle and distributes wealth to his worshippers. He is not particularly interested in teaching you to overcome your desire for worldly things. Quite often, he’s the god you approach to get more of them. Punjabi pop feels so familiar with that context. The land, the weapons, the beautiful women, the expensive possessions, the pride in one’s family and the constant reminder that nobody should dare challenge your sardari. I’m not suggesting that Punjabi pop is somehow descended from Rigvedic poetry. But I do find it fascinating that two poetic traditions separated by thousands of years can sound so similar when talking about what makes a man great. If you want to imagine the real spirit of a hymn to Indra, don’t picture a sage sitting silently in a forest meditating or doing yoga. Picture a Punjabi rapper arriving in a convoy, showing off his wealth, challenging his rivals and announcing to everyone that nobody does it better than him. That is closer to the Vedas than Puranic bhajans fetishising smallness.