Paa De Lohri: A reconsideration of the spring festival’s most popular folk songs
Photo: Karan Madhok
From the happy chorus of ‘Desi trick or treat’ singers to the problematic lyrics in folk classics, Deepansh Duggal takes a deep dive to explore the cultural significance of Punjabi Lohri music in contemporary times.
After the pandemic had muted Lohri celebrations over the past two years, North Indian households are again gearing up to compensate for the great festival, celebrating the onset of spring with grand bonfires, twice as many dhol-wallas, and plenty of rewaris and corn to go around.
However, one old Lohri tradition now seems to be long lost. Traditionally, children on this time of the year would go door-to-door in their neighborhood asking elders for sweets—jaggery, gajjak, grains—and announce their arrival to the house gate by singing Punjabi folk songs. Besides fostering community spirit, this practice—which some called ‘desi trick-or-treating’—also kept the old heart of traditional folk music from this region beating and alive.
One of these songs is “Tode Uper Toda”, a number which evokes beautiful imagery of fresh green harvest and a bundle of saag (a winter staple) followed by spices (mirch). The lyrics go: “Toda! (Fresh harvest!) Tode upar saag (Saag on bouquets of harvest) Saag! (Saag!) Saag wich mirch! (Chillis on Saag)”. “Tode Uper Toda” is also a textbook example of Punjabi ‘boli’, a style of singing in couplets with a chorus, and often repeating the introduction in unison.
Another folk song, “Massa Leya”, is sung when a family is celebrating a new-born’s first Lohri. The phrase ‘Massa Leya’ literally means ‘after great difficulty’; the lyrics are meant to emphasize that the auspicious occasion has arrived after a lot of prayers (ardaas) of the family: “Shaganaa Da Gidda Teri Daadi Pawaave / Dada vande gud rodi” (Grandmother gives sweet offerings to Gidda dancers / Grandfather distributes jaggery and rewari). “Massa Leya” evokes imagery of family members across ages, young and old, dancing around bonfire and merrymaking.
“Til Cholliye”, a folk song which was revived by Punjabi folk singer Raj Ghuman, evokes imagery of devilishly sweet, delicious Punjabi mithais which are an integral part of all Lohri celebrations. While some of them like rewari and gud (jaggery) are thrown into the bonfire, others are consumed. The birth being referred to in some of the song’s lyrics are in reference to a male child. “Jiddan jammeya ni, gud wandeyaan ni… Niga aap jeevega, mai-baap jeevega, sora saath jeevega” (When he was born, sweet jaggery was distributed… The son will live and prosper, so will his parents and his father-in-law). It’s another track celebrating the birth of a new-born, but a male one in particular—thus excluding daughters from the same.
Then, there’s the popular “Sundar Mundariye”, a Punjabi tune dating back to the 16th century, which continues to be a hot favourite for the Punjabi community during Lohri. It is also sung by kids as they go around asking for their Lohri sweets. “Sundar Mundariye” tells of the legend of Dulla Bhatti, the Punjabi ‘Robin Hood’, who would loot the rich and distribute the booty among the poor and marginalized. Bhatti is also attributed for rescuing women who were being trafficked and helped in their rehabilitation. In some cases, he even helped them get married and paid their dowries.
Immortalizing the Punjabi folk hero in its lyrics, “Sundar Mundariye” addresses one such young woman rescued by Bhatti:
Sunder mundriye
Tera kaun vicaharaa
Dullah Bhatti walla
Dullhe di dhee vyayae
Oh, you pretty lass
Who is your protector?
Dullah, from Village Bhatti
Dullah’s getting her married as his own daughter
While the song is an inseparable part of Punjabi folk tales—particularly in the context of Lohri—it does have some rather sexist undertones in its lyrics, where the young woman is addressed to in a pitiful fashion, as someone in need of a protector. While one can appreciate the popularity, lyrics, and composition of some of these folk songs, it is equally important to analyse their relevance in the present socio-cultural context.
According to the legend dating back to 16th century, Bhatti led the peasant rebellion in Punjab against the Mughals. In his 2008 book Martyr as Bridegroom: A Folk Representation of Bhagat Singh, Ishwar Dayal Gaur proclaims that Bhatti was “The trendsetter in peasant insurgency in medieval Punjab”, and that he remains, “on the periphery of Punjab’s historiography”. A Muslim Rajput born in Punjab, Pakistan, Bhatti locked horns with emperor Akbar over the centralised revenue collection scheme. In the modern context, there are many traits of Bhatti which deserve to be celebrated: his anti-authoritarian and rebellious streak, and the courage to take on the monarchy in order to fight a class war for his community. However, Bhatti’s celebration and his subsequent immortalization in the form of a folk song also legitimizes social banditry: a resistance undertaken by the oppressed lower class which is illegal, often marked by violence—but one that is justified as being morally acceptable.
Some historical accounts also suggest that Bhatti had taken two of Akbar’s wives hostages, contradicting the folk legend that makes him out to be a champion for the rights of women. This raises rather pertinent questions on whether folk heroes like Bhatti and the themes in songs like “Til Cholliye” deserve a place in the Punjabi literary canon, as many of their politics and their treatment of women can be viewed to be problematic. How should one reconcile tradition and modernity? How can one reinvent one’s folk heroes and songs in a way that they withstand the socio-cultural evolution?
One such example of reinvention came during the 2020-2021 Farmer’s Protests around India. As farmers from Punjab and Haryana protested the contentious farm bills at Singhu, Tikri and other Delhi borders, many celebrated Lohri by burning copies of the bills. On January 13, 2021, videos of several farmers celebrating the festival at the border surfaced with the singing of these popular folk tracks; this time, they had rephrased the lyrics of “Sundar Mundariye” to attack the government, removing the references to Dulla Bhatti.
As per a report on India Today, the new lyrics were:
Singhu Tikriye, Ho!
Tera Sabbar Niyara, Ho!
Bhai Kanahiyey Waala, Ho!
Karda Na Niptaara!
“Sundar Mundariye” tells of the legend of Dulla Bhatti, the Punjabi ‘Robin Hood’, who would loot the rich and distribute the booty among the poor and marginalized. Bhatti is also attributed for rescuing women who were being trafficked and helped in their rehabilitation.
The opening line refers to the Singhu and Tikri borders, the epicentres of the farmer’s movement. The first line is meant to appreciate the remarkable patience that both camps have shown throughout the protests. The second line refers to Bhai Kanhaiya, a disciple of Guru Tegh Bahadur, who poured water on all wounded soldiers on the battlefield, no matter who they were fighting against. Replacing Bhatti—a social bandit—with Bhai Kanhaiya, a flag-bearer of humanitarian values, shows how some Punjabis are considering the reinvention of folk songs according to the present socio-cultural fabric. As poet TS Eliot argues in his essay ‘Tradition and the Individual Talent’, past works of art are meant to be altered by a new work which modifies the tradition and makes a room for itself.
Come Lohri, “Sundar Mundariye” will, in all likelihood, dominate the Spotify charts, particularly the version sung by Daler Mehndi, which has beats that would make even the most reluctant dancers to shake a leg. But amidst the fervour, it might be easy to forget how the folk song has aged. Some of us might as well find it difficult to reconcile tradition and modernity given the song is an integral part of our childhood and even evokes a feeling of nostalgia. As Jonah Goldberg once said “Traditions grow on the vine of tradition”. Must we water the vine even if it is unwanted?
This is where some Punjabi folk singers have played a key role. Raj Ghuman, in her 2016 album Lohri Geet, included “Paa De Lohri”, a folk song which almost serves as an antidote to “Til Cholliye”. While the latter celebrates the birth of a male child and prays for the well-being of men in the family, “Paa De Lohri” sends a more inclusive message, as an ode to daughters, an ardaas for their well-being: “Paa De Lohri Ni Bibi, Teri Dhee Jeevi Ni Jug Jug” (Give us Lohri Bibi, We pray your daughter lives a long life).
Asking for Lohri sweets in exchange for blessings for the girl child is an attempt to break free from tradition, reinvent it, while keeping its core sentiment intact. The modernity of yesterday can be the tradition of today. Countering some of the outdated folk songs with newer and more inclusive numbers will help us leave better traditions for the next generation of children to follow and emulate. And perhaps, these kids will find new tunes to reinvigorate old traditions as they celebrate the fervour or Lohri with sweets, songs, and community across their neighbourhoods.
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Deepansh Duggal is an art and culture writer based in New Delhi. He has a keen interest in analysing artworks and folk songs which lie at the intersection of socio-political and gender issues. He also writes on films and pop-culture. You can find him on Twitter: @Deepansh75 and Instagram: @deepanshduggal.
