Punjabi Christian pastors are mixing Bible with bhangra. Making Jesus relatable

Tarn Taran: Under the dim stage lights, with drums thundering behind him, a young pastor grips the mic and roars, “Yeshu di balle balle!” And with that, bhangra has just found its sacred groove in Punjab.

The women in the audience sway in a trance, hands raised, eyes brimming as they cry out, “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” A few men break into bhangra, their limbs moving in quick, energetic bursts. Others clap their hands in sync, their eyes brimming with devotion.

The bhangra-pastors are no match for the dizzying popularity of Diljit Dosanjh, AP Dhillon, or Karan Aujla yet. But they are a new variant and are gaining rural followers rapidly—matching the pace at which Christianity is spreading in Punjab. Some estimates now put the state’s Christian population at 15 per cent, although it was just over 1 per cent in the 2011 census.

Church music isn’t new. There’s Christian rock, rap, and reggae. But in Punjab, the pastors have welded the Bible with bhangra.

These bhangra-pastors are ushering in a new chapter of rising Pentecostal Christianity in Punjab, belting out viral hits such as Yeshu Teri Balle Balle, Mera Yeshu Yeshu, and Yashu da Janam. They say the road to the Church goes through these bhangra-infused and Bollywood-like Sufi renditions. Now they are making glamorous music videos too, shot in aspirational locations. And they are trying to ape the swag of 1990s boy bands.

Their music videos get millions of views, likes, and shares on social media platforms. Shot against the backdrop of exotic locations in England, Malaysia, and hill stations like Himachal in India, pastors and worshippers say they are delivering Bollywood-level content—with godly lyrics.

This is a way to encourage my fellow Christians to replace secular songs with Christian ones

-Pastor and singer Gautam Kumar

It’s midnight, and nearly all the villagers are praying with Pastor Deepak Johnson in a massive orange tent set up on a barren field. He cuts a commanding figure on stage in a black Pathan kurta-salwar, a gift from a relative in Pakistan. He pairs it with a fitted grey Nehru jacket. The stage is far removed from the theatrics of a concert—there are no neon lights or LED screens. The only embellishments are a cross and a modest sound system crackling with the echoes of faith and devotion.

This is Johnson’s small religio-concert, where almost 500 people dance to his sacred tunes. Men in turbans, women in colorful dupattas, and children perched on their parents’ shoulders. Volunteers bearing brass kettles weave through the heaving mass, pouring hot chai.

“Rakhiya Shaitan nu tu paer thalle!” (You have crushed Satan under your feet!) the pastor roars tunefully into the mic, stomping his left foot. With every line, he makes Christianity more and more accessible and relatable for the Punjabi speakers of Khem Karan village.

Johnson’s friends from the church sit cross-legged at one corner of the stage, playing the tabla and adjusting the music system. The performance opens with Johnson’s wife and daughter, followed by a ribbon-cutting ceremony led by his father, the senior pastor. Then, Johnson steps forward, tuning the harmonium while signalling the DJ to lower the volume. It is a moment of family, faith, and fellowship.

“I always wanted to be a singer, but I never knew I would become a singer for my Lord,” said Johnson, as a few people from the crowd tossed money onto the stage.

“This is what I earn,” he said, pointing to the ten- and fifty-rupee notes.

On the stage, Johnson’s parents, wife, and two daughters watch the crowd with pride. Occasionally, they lend their voices to keep the energy going.

“Sanu blessings de do, Pastar ji!” (Bless us, Pastor!) they shout in unison.

These bhangra-infused songs are a testament to the rise of Pentecostal Christianity in Punjab. Small churches, like the one where Johnson is a pastor, are springing up in villages and towns, drawing converts who are mostly Dalits, Mazhabi Sikhs, and the poor. For many, Christianity is not just about faith but also a promise of dignity. Still, there are detractors. The Akal Takht has alleged forced conversions and the Shiromani Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee launched a drive to counter missionaries in 2021.

Some members of the Sikh community allege that these pastors exploit vulnerable people with promises of miracle cures, jobs and money. The uneasiness has grown after after a 22-year-old woman from Kapurthala accused Pastor Bajinder Singh of sexual assault last month.

“It is highly concerning, what’s happening in Punjab. A true Sikh never converts to another religion. Our community is being targeted. This is all driven by greed,” said Sarbajit Singh Sonu Jandiala, a social activist from Punjab.

The increasingly popular music, too, is causing some resentment.

“This music is marketed by self-styled pastors. And most of those who are getting converted are very poor and from the SC category,” said Taranjit Singh Kinrha, who runs a magazine on Punjabi music called Sangeet Darpan.

These songs make religion more familiar and culturally resonant. Faith, they signal, does not necessarily mean a complete break from cultural identity. Some, like members of Johnson’s audience, continue to wear their turbans. Christianity is catching on in a way that remixes old customs with new beliefs.

“In 2011, Christian music in Punjab was only sung at jagraatas or during Christmas. And not many people would align to these songs. We hardly had homegrown singers. That’s when I realised we needed to expand our music scene in Punjab,” said Pastor Sanjeev Mattu from Jalandhar.

The Christian community has built its own music industry—run, produced, and distributed entirely by them. It is not only fostering a cultural movement but also creating job opportunities for Christian youth who work as musicians, DJs, and album producers for pastors and worshippers.

“Bhangra-infused music started emerging around 2015-2016 but was initially limited to gatherings. Over the past two years, we recognised the need for high-production songs with Bollywood-style visuals and began publishing them on YouTube and other platforms,” said Mattu, who recently released a song named Pukara under the label Amen Records.

Also Read: Pastor Bajinder Singh is Baba Ram Rahim of Punjab Christians. Now, ‘Papa’ is in trouble

 Bhangra gospel, global spin

The six-minute eighteen-second song Pukara opens with Mattu in a crisp blue blazer and white pants, standing against a serene backdrop. As he hums the opening tune, the camera slowly shifts to reveal another singer, Patras Masih, finishing his hymn. Then comes a spectacular landscape—rolling hills with dense green forests anointed in a canopy of mist.

But this isn’t a hill station in India. It’s Genting Highlands in Malaysia. Videos like this offer an aspirational value to the Canada-obsessed Punjabi youth.

“The choice of location was made by the director, Krish Paul, who lives in Malaysia. He felt it would not only elevate the aesthetics of the video but also complement the song’s message of hope and devotion,” said Mattu in his two-storey house in Jalandhar. His harmonium’s bellow has ‘Jesus’ emblazoned on its silver plate.

“Ro ro ke kar tu duwava, teriya pukaara Yeshu sunega zarur,” (Cry and pray to Jesus. He will definitely listen to you) he sang softly.

A convert, Mattu embraced Christianity not in Punjab, but in England. He had travelled to the UK for a Master’s degree in audiology. But his encounter with Christian music changed everything. He got his degree and returned to India in 2011 to spread the word.

Pukara is Mattu’s first song on his newly created YouTube channel, Sanjeev Mattu Ministries. In just a fortnight, it has got over 10k views and 262 comments.

The idea behind these songs is to steer the youth away from music that promotes inappropriate content. We now have our very own Christian wedding collection. You won’t believe how many have embraced Christianity after listening to our songs

-Pastor Sanjeev Mattu

“I received blessings through this song. A life changing song,” wrote one devotee in the comments section. Others praised the production and beauty of the lyrics. “Very beautiful song, Pastar Paaji. God bless you.”

Bolstered by the praise, Mattu plans to produce an electric bhangra song for YouTube.

This music will find its way into big fat Punjabi weddings too, he said, replacing Bollywood songs.

Punjabi Christian worshipper Thomas Kohali has already taken a step in this direction. He released a song on YouTube, Khuda Ne Sanu Milaya (God made us meet), labelled as a ‘Christian Wedding Song’. It got over 70,000 views and was shot in Kashmir. Kohali’s wife, dressed in a white gown, walks through a meadow while he leans against a tree, with snow-capped mountains in the backdrop.

It’s one of the most popular songs played at Christian wedding receptions and has inspired a flurry of reels by newlyweds. #Christianweddingsong is trending in Punjab.

In Jalandhar, Mattu gave a live preview of his new Punjabi Christian wedding song.

“Dhol bajane bajane dhol Bajne naal shehnai Yeshu lade di baraat jadu aai,”
(With the dhols beating and shehnais playing, Jesus brings the wedding procession) he sang.

But Christian music didn’t come easy to Mattu. A Mazhabi Sikh by birth, he used to sing Babu Mann, Mika, and Jazzy B songs during his college days. His time in England changed that. When he left India to enrol in a UK college, education was just a pretext—his real goal was to build a life abroad. But instead, he spiralled into drug use. A timely intervention by his German friend, Shaon Abraham, who worked part-time with him in a London restaurant, pulled Mattu back from addiction.

“He gave me a music CD filled with English Christian songs. I would listen to these songs on my way to work and back. They helped me break free from addiction. And that’s when I decided to convert to Christianity,” said Mattu.

He threw himself into the fellowship in 2009 until a pastor asked him to return to his home and serve the Christian community in Punjab.

“I realised I was meant for a greater purpose—to the serve the people,” said Mattu who returned to Jalandhar in 2011. “I felt it was my responsibility to help the youth through music.” A few years later he enrolled in the Delhi Bible Institute to become a pastor.

Since then, he has been singing what he calls “modern” Christian music at community gatherings and get-togethers. However, performing live and creating a full-fledged music video require different skill sets.

Christian worshipper Gautam Kumar had to climb a mountain for three hours to reach a cliff in Himachal—all because the producers wanted to enhance the video’s aesthetic appeal. Another pastor, who did not wish to be named, had to shed a few kilos to look good in his videos.

Move over Jesus Christ Superstar, Punjab is in the grip of Bhangra-Jesus.

Faith meets full-scale production

With 1.86 lakh subscribers on his YouTube channel, Kumar is the most sought-after singer in Jalandhar. His fan base extends beyond the Christian community—he has Sikh followers as well. His songs resemble the style of Punjabi singer Pratik Bachan, better known as B Praak, said a Sikh fan from Amritsar, who enjoys listening to the music even though he is not a Christian.

There isn’t an ocean too deep or a mountain too high to prevent Gautam Kumar from making his slickly produced Christian music videos. He has climbed cliffs, waded into the sea, and perched on the edge of a boat.

“It took me three hours to reach that cliff (in Himachal Pradesh) because the producers and musicians said that it should look like I am talking to god,” he said.

His song Woh Maujood Hai Yahan has 1.9 crore views on YouTube. Shot against the lakes and mountains of Himachal, the video looks like it’s lifted from Gerua in Dilwale. Kumar even spreads his arms like Shah Rukh Khan—except his love isn’t Kajol, but Yeshu.

“Jitne beemar hai, changge ho jayenge, mera Yeshu maujood hai yahan”
(Whoever is unwell will be healed—my Jesus is present here), go the lyrics.

“For this video, when I sat on the edge of a boat, I was really afraid. But I kept telling myself that Yeshu is with me. You are singing for God—you have to take such risks,” Kumar said.

Woh Maujood Hai Yahan was not only Kumar’s first song but also 34-year-old Pawan Pal’s first digital assignment. A digital marketer, Pal handles the social media accounts of 85 pastors and worshippers in Punjab. His long list of clients include Kumar, Mattu, and Deepak Johnson.

Pal’s job is to drum up excitement through teasers, promos, and publishing music videos on YouTube, Spotify, iTunes, and other platforms. He then creates reels and shares them across Instagram, Facebook, and even TikTok. His company, Eden Digitals, also runs its own production house, Yeshua Productions.

In his terrace room in Jalandhar, the tools of his trade—an iPad, a MacBook, and two iPhones—are arranged neatly on the table. He checks the performance of a client’s music video, then makes a call.

“Mubaraka! Twadi video chal gayi!” (Congratulations! Your video is doing good.)

The Punjabi-Christian music industry has its own revenue model as well—a syndicate where everything is interdependent and the money circulates within the community.

Earlier, (these pastors) asked converts to remove their turbans. Now they say, ‘Keep the turban and become Christian.’ They make sensational miracle videos and now, music videos to deceive the youth

-Devender Singh, member of Sant Sipahi Society in Ludhiana

The Punjabi Christian music scene now runs on a self-contained revenue model—everything circulates within the community. The income from a music video is split 70-30, with the bigger share going to singers and the rest divided among marketers and others involved.

“A part of the money I get from commercial clients, I use to promote the videos,” Pal said, proudly adding that he gets calls from musicians in other countries, asking him to promote their videos.

Kumar has also collaborated with Pal’s Yeshua Productions on wedding songs such as Dhanwaad Tera Yeshu. Complete with bridal finery, a babbling brook, and biblical scriptures, it has crossed 1 lakh views.

“This is a way to encourage my fellow Christians to replace secular songs with Christian ones,” said Kumar.

Pal, who is from the Valmiki community, discovered Christianity while battling cancer seven years ago. During this period, he visited numerous temples, seeking a cure.

“But it was only a prayer to Yeshu that saved me,” he said. “I told Yeshu, ‘If you really exist, please help me’. The doctors had given up, and that’s when I felt someone speak to me, saying, ‘You will be cured.’ And I was cured.”

All 25 of his employees at Yeshua Productions are Christian. Every day, he holds a morning meeting with them, assigning tasks like promoting videos, creating reels, pushing content on different platforms, and removing inappropriate material related to Yeshu. He then makes calls to pastors and worshippers, updating them on the status of their videos.

Some are discomfited by this digital push and the wider reach of the music. “These pastors are running aggressive campaigns—it’s all propaganda,” said Devender Singh from the Sant Sipahi Society, a Sikh socio-religious organisation in Ludhiana. “Earlier, they asked converts to remove their turbans. Now they say, ‘Keep the turban and become Christian.’ They make sensational miracle videos and now, music videos to deceive the youth.”

But for Pastor Deepak Johnson, Pal is nothing short of a miracle worker. It was Pal who made Yeshu Teri Balle Balle video go viral. But the song itself wasn’t originally his—it came from Pakistan. Johnson recreated it in Punjab, giving it a fresh sound and a new audience.

Also Read: Panama to Punjab: Deported Indians recall price they paid to enter US through ‘dunki route’

Singing for Yeshu—and no one else

At his church in Tarn Taran, 32-year-old Deepak Johnson checks the views on his latest video, Ameen. He’s thrilled that it has crossed 2.6 lakh views in just over a month.

He and fellow singer Rohini Samuel flew to England to shoot the video. They can be seen wandering through deserted alleys in Oxford, singing praises of Yeshu against the backdrop of Christ Church College.

Since his version of Yeshu Teri Balle Balle went viral on Instagram last December, Johnson has been in high demand. He receives calls from followers in India and abroad, and he credits Jesus for his newfound fame and celebrity status among Christians in Punjab.

“I tell people I have no role to play. Yeshu chose me for this,” he said, adjusting his grey coat.

Behind him, a massive billboard announces his upcoming song, Mention. The design has all the glitz of Bollywood, with his face and that of his fellow artist in sharp focus, a pigeon flying above them, and in bold gold letters, the name of his band Azaad Parindey.

The song goes: “Kar Yeshu aage mention, apni zindagi ki har ek tension — Yeshu paar karva dega.” (Mention every tension in your life to Yeshu—he will help you overcome it.)

Johnson’s elder daughter, Rejoice, often joins him during music gatherings.

“She will also become a singer like me,” he said confidently. Religious iconography is everywhere in his house; above him, a framed painting of Jerusalem balances on the curtain rod.

Whenever he switches to pastor mode, he dresses up in the first-floor room of his church, located 10 minutes from his house. Of his two cars, he takes the i10, and his younger daughter, Hannah, joins him, carrying his shoes while he takes his coat and trousers.

Later in the evening, in another village, Johnson and his family are invited for dinner—a gesture of gratitude from a couple who are convinced their prayers for a son were answered through Johnson’s blessings.

Before leaving, Johnson, his wife, his two daughters—Rejoice and Hannah—and his parents stand in a circle. They sing praises and seek blessings. His mother, a doctor by profession, ensures everyone is standing in a circle with folded hands.

“It’s a daily ritual,” he said.

Just as they are about to leave, the portrait of Jerusalem suddenly falls. His younger daughter, Hannah, quickly picks it up, dusts it off with the edge of her dress, and softly whispers an apology. “Mainu maaf kardo, Yeshu Masih”—Forgive me, Jesus.

Johnson’s father, Somnath, was a Brahmin before before he turned to Christianity to free himself from alcohol addiction. Now, he is also a pastor. At the gathering, his followers jump and cheer upon seeing Somnath and Johnson together.

“Aaj ki raat ban gayi!” (Tonight will be special) one of them shouts.

But Johnson’s popularity is limited to his community. He won’t sing Punjabi pop or Bollywood songs.

“Once you start singing for Yeshu, the first rule is that you can’t sing secular songs. I don’t even watch secular videos,” he said.

Eighty-three kilometers away in Jalandhar, Mattu’s phone starts ringing. His ringtone—Mere Yeshu Nasreen—fills the room. He answers quickly, promising the caller that he will reach in 20 minutes. Another gathering awaits him.

“The idea behind these songs is to steer the youth away from music that promotes inappropriate content. We now have our very own Christian wedding collection. You won’t believe how many have embraced Christianity after listening to our songs,” said Mattu.

It has been 16 years since he last sang what he calls “secular songs”—essentially Bollywood and Punjabi tracks.

Behind him, a massive portrait of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan hangs on the wall, depicting the qawwali legend standing next to a harmonium. In the painting, crosses are scattered throughout the room, creating a quaint, church-like ambience.

“This is Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan singing in the church. One of my followers made this painting for me,” he said with a smile, pointing at the artwork.

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan was his favourite singer. But Mattu can no longer sing his songs.

(Edited by Asavari Singh)