Popular singer Rabbi Shergill talks about what’s ailing Punjab and the solutions for it
Mona
Winning music lovers for over two decades with soulful numbers Tere Bin, Bulla Ki Jaana and Challa to name a few, Rabbi Shergill is waking up to the power of music only now. Also, the distinction between fame and leaving a cultural footprint has never been clearer. “Success for me is when your name is known but your face isn’t,” says the famed singer who enjoys his daily runs, auto rides every once a while and tea from roadside vendors.
In Chandigarh for Speaking Allowed 2023, he was a part of Gazing at Punjab Through Art session along with Daljit Ami and acclaimed artistes Jiten Thukral and Sumir Tagra. While acknowledging the issues Punjab is facing, Rabbi is positive about a change. “The constructive roles artistes played in the farmers’ protests, one hopes to see that in due time Punjab will rise to its potential.”
Not that he is not in touch with reality. “In the dream of endless growth, Punjab’s mighty rivers have thinned down to a trickle, 80 per cent of groundwater is gone as is four inches of top soil. There is massive thrust on cash crops even though it’s not supported environmentally, simply because there is an MSP on it,” says Rabbi, who believes that if society sticks to values, it’s all reversible. “Each of us has to take onus for it. It’s ultimately the middle class who can raise its voice and bring the change.”
Not that personally he is sold out to fame. “I have seen that phase, the times when I would be mobbed. Had I wanted I would done a Bulla every two years and made gazillions for self. Personal success means nothing if there is collective widespread decay,” says the singer who now divides time between Delhi and Kasuali.
“Whenever Delhi becomes unbreathable, which is often now, we head to the hills. How unfortunate it is that in Delhi we only have scavenger birds – crows and pigeons – and none of the numerous pollinating species that called it home.”
He misses the Chandigarh of 90s too. “How sad is it that one struggles to spot a sparrow here now, and not long before right outside Chandigarh there were choes and one could spot an antelope crossing the streams.”
It’s not just the wrongs that he harps on, but also points out how different voices in the Punjabi music industry make it hearty. “Diversity is a sign of healthy society.” He insists that one needs all kinds of music, also like that of Sidhu Moosewala. “It acts as a safety valve. The feelings of angst and uncertainty should be purged time to time.”
In the hullabaloo of things when Punjab and Punjabis are spending more than they are making, he finds a solution in taking a pause.
Quiz him on his bond with music, he answers, “I realise music and real conversation aren’t very different. In music as in deep conversations lies revelation. It’s metaphysical and has a spiritual connection.” He agrees that there are more ways than one to approach life, science and analytical approach more accepted than others. “Music for me is to know the truth, an attempt at something mystical. My bond with music is that of a student with their teacher, a devotee’s to that of deity.”
In the business of pop music, Rabbi listens to all genres. He has a jazz list, funk list, Punjabi list and a special section dedicated to the time he goes running. U2’s Get Out of Your Own Way is on the top of that list. Rabbi is quite fond of U2’s 13 too and Sting’s latest album The Bridge. Much in love with poetry, among others Sultan Bahu, Surjit Patar, Amarjit Chandan, Dr Harbhajan Singh, late Puran Singh and Lal Singh Dil top his favourites.
