About two decades ago, a televised meeting was held between ex-Beatle Paul McCartney and Russian President Vladimir Putin at the Kremlin.
A precursor to McCartney playing the Red Square in Moscow, it was significant as the “Fab Four” were banned from playing in the Soviet Union from the ’60s and all through to the ’80s; just like anything and everything Western in the strictly communist space had been. But people, of course, found ways to listen to their music. The bootleg Beatles albums came with x-ray films and “music on the bones”, as it was called, was heard and revered secretly by the Soviet Union residents hungry for rock ‘n’ roll. McCartney asked Putin in that meeting, “When you were growing up, did you listen to the Beatles?” To which Putin replied, “The music was very popular like a breath of fresh air, a window into the outside world.” When the cameras and translators were sent away and they were alone, McCartney took to the piano in Putin’s living room and crooned ‘Let it be’.
The incident, as good-humoured as it was made out to be, was, of course, political. One can’t be surprised at politicians being tantalised to be a part of a popular artiste’s success story to show that they are aligned with the public perception through these meetings. But let’s not forget that genuine artistes will always follow their hearts and will continue to speak their mind.
This is why the meeting between global popstar Diljit Dosanjh and Prime Minister Narendra Modi at his residence post the conclusion of his sold-out, successful and politically engaging concert tour in India, should be seen exactly as that — a civilised meeting between an artiste and his country’s PM, where a politician understands the soft power and sees this as an opportunity to win over undecided future voters and a significant artiste finds a seat at an important table — just like many others cultural icons before him have.
This meeting could well be a poll suggestion from Modi’s advisors — an image-building PR exercise — which will help secure the trust of young voters, whose confidence in Diljit is unwavering at this point. It could be a targeted community exercise too towards a Punjab that’s angry about the Centre’s ill-treatment of its farmers.
Seated under a striking Gond painting, with PM Modi awkwardly drumming on a table next to him, Dosanjh attempted to celebrate his roots while crooning an ode to Guru Nanak. “Where is your God, they question… I tell them to close their eyes, meditate, and just feel his presence,” he sang. His past meetings with Canadian PM Justin Trudeau, American television host Jimmy Fallon, his fans, and his colleagues have also come with as much grace. Perhaps because humility is the one thing that lies at the core of “sewa” — Sikhism’s core aspect.
I must admit that the optics, with certain crisscrossing vectors, are interesting and confusing.
When was the last time any Indian pop artiste from the mainstream, at the pinnacle of his career and with a popularity rivalling the biggest Khans at this point, spoke politically? Dosanjh has gained a reputation for political and social comment besides being quite the disruptor for the right wing. He has supported the farmers, in turn being labelled a Khalistani and called a desh-vidrohi by BJP MP Kangana Ranaut. He’s spoken of Punjabi pride across borders, gifted his shoes to a Pakistani fan on stage saying “Music sabda sanjha hai (Our music is common and shared)”, refusing the idea of being stowed away neatly into an idea of nationalism where you hate the other even though you have a shared history and culture. He’s broken social and cultural stereotypes by wearing his dastaar (turban) and the traditional folk outfit during his concerts — in India and globally, making the idea of being a sardaar cool. The first Indian artiste to sing at Coachella, which he pronounces as Cochilla and calls it “Mohali varga mela (a fair like it is in Mohali)”, he got noted names like Sia and Ed Sheeran to sing in Punjabi. Then there are visits to mosques, temples, gurudwaras, churches, an idea of secularism that he propagates.
During his recent sold-out Dil-luminati tour, almost every concert went beyond programmed pop to be a political statement. If he dedicated his Guwahati concert to the former PM Manmohan Singh, speaking of his “saada jeevan” (simple life) and how the youth needs to learn from him, he hollered Rahat Indori’s ‘Sabhi ka khoon hai is mitti mein shamil, Kisi ke baap ka Hindustan thodi hai’ in Indore, targeting Vishwa Hindu Parishad and Bajrang Dal and their protests against the sale of liquor and meat at the concert.
The fear of backlash and alienation has caused many to remain silent. But Dosanjh has powered on. In Ahmedabad, he questioned why the moral burden to not sing about alcohol was on one artiste. Tongue firmly in cheek, he asked why the government does not ban alcohol before asking him to not sing about it. During his Lucknow concert, he slammed anchor Sudhir Chaudhary who’d challenged him to get a hit without singing about alcohol. Dosanjh, with his sauciness in tow, listed his hits without any mention of alcohol, calling Chaudhary’s challenge null and void. In Delhi, he waved the tricolour with the refrain “Main hoon Punjab”, a response to those who called him Khalistani, taking back his nation and placing Punjab alongside. All art is political. It can succeed where diplomacy has failed. Dosanjh is a shining example of that.
Post his meeting with Modi, while many BJP supporters went on to restore Dosanjh’s nationalist status, farmers were angry, asking why he hadn’t visited them at the border instead. Those in the Opposition were discussing his all-black attire implying that it signified rebellion and protest for the farmers’ rights.
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But the point here is this: Cultural figures are likely to support a politician, or not, completely based on their ideology. In this case, he is meeting the PM, a position that is supposed to be above questions of faith and identity. If one is invited to someone’s home and accorded dignity, even if it feels like the other side, you accept respectfully. Which is probably what Dosanjh did.
That meeting with Putin is, perhaps, what gave McCartney the gumption to write a letter to him a decade later in 2013, addressing him informally as “Dear Vladimir” and asking him to consider the release of the Greenpeace campaigners and two freelance journalists (Arctic 30) who were held in St Petersburg, facing charges after a protest against Arctic oil drilling which happened eventually due to media pressure and Russia hosting the Winter Olympics at the time. Did McCartney play a role? One can never know. McCartney also waved the Ukrainian flag as he kicked off his 2022 world tour in Spokane while offering the Ukranians his love and support as Putin continued the war on them with full force.
Dosanjh has made so many political statements, this is also being seen as one. But perhaps it shouldn’t. Let’s not misconstrue this meeting as a betrayal of the causes he’s stood for. Let our perceptions not colour our view of the world.
suanshu.khurana@expressindia.com
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