She was in such a tizzy that I could barely make out the silhouette of the always dapper Diljit Dosanjh with Jimmy Fallon of The Tonight Show on her screen.
“Kede Punjabi?” I asked, pouring her a Diet Coke on the rocks as she queened it on my sofa — legs tucked, shoes and all. “The ones at home or the NRIs and OCIs?”
“Both,” she replied, talking a mile a minute about Indian and Punjabi representation in Hollywood. She is not wrong, the GOAT singer has certainly gone mainstream in America, much like Priyanka Chopra-Jonas before him.
That is how Jassi and I somehow found ourselves playing the exhausting parlour game: Who did a better job marketing their Indianness to the Americans – Priyanka Chopra-Jonas or Diljit Dosanjh?
Jassi, I am afraid, was none too impressed with Miss World 2000. “Her interviews are like watching an exile — albeit a beautiful one — negotiate an asylum. She speaks of her Bollywood days with the same forgiving smile one reserves for a problematic ex.”
While I have always admired Chopra-Jonas for having the guts to go big and beat the many odds stacked against her, Jassi does make a fair point.
Chopra-Jonas has Americanised everything about herself, starting with her accent, in an effort to assimilate. She uses her platform to talk about being bullied in high school as an Indian-American – universally relatable – but maintains a studied silence on anything contentious, whether geopolitics or cultural appropriation by Prada and Ralph Lauren, whose memorable trench coat she wore to the Met Gala, launching a million memes.
On the other side, there is Diljit. Oh, Diljit – the conqueror of hearts.
If Priyanka is the diplomat, Diljit unapologetically wears his heart on his sleeve.
“Watching him on Fallon was almost surreal for those of us tired of apologising for our existence,” says Jassi, tearing up a little. “He used the platform to remind the West of the 1914 Komagata Maru incident – where 376 Indians aboard a ship were denied entry into Canada, and not even given food, water, or medical help – and then pointed out that he had just sold out a 55,000-seat stadium 2 km from that very port.”
“What a win for all Punjabis,” says Jassi, her eyes shining. “He was like: You did not allow us to come, and now we are here.”
“And, he said it on Fallon, the show where people talk about celebrity crushes and useless talents,” she says, her voice laced with awe.
I get why she is emotional. Her uncle drove a taxi in Vancouver and her father still has nightmares, some of them passed down to each generation.
“Remember Coachella?” I ask, trying to divert her mind.
“Diljit made history as the first Punjabi headliner. He was so inclusive when he said the Punjabis have arrived, not as most self-obsessed celebrities say–’I have arrived.’”
Then he graced the Met Gala, the annual costume party attended by those who have made it. Priyanka has walked those steps many times – always dressed to the nines, always too appropriate, just another Hollywood star in the melee.
“The one time Diljit walked it,” recalls Jassi, laughing now. “He snuck in his Kirpan by coming in after Shakira.”
“And..and…”, she tries to speak amid giggles, “who can forget he called out Cartier for hoarding the stolen Patiala necklace.”
“He did that on the Met steps!” she laughs at his audacity. That is certainly one way to use one’s voice and platform, and if he ruffled a few influential feathers, Diljit could not care less.
Chopra-Jonas has a powerful voice – and her endorsement does matter – but she expertly steers clear of controversy to protect the Chopra-Jonas brand. The elderly, who have an idiom for every occasion, have one for her, too: She who tries to be everyone’s cup of chai ends up being no one’s.
And, Chopra-Jonas saw this firsthand at the 2026 Oscars, where Javier Bardem, who was co-presenting with Chopra-Jonas, spoke out for Palestine. Priyanka stood beside him, her discomfort apparent – it was unclear whether she supported the cause or not, causing her to be viciously trolled by both sides.
“To be fair, Diljit gets to be loud because he is the king of his own kingdom,” I say. “Priyanka has to be careful–her future work in Hollywood, Bollywood, her UNICEF ambassadorship, the Jonas brothers’ fandom, even the PTA of her daughter’s school all depend on her not rocking the boat. One wrong move and her house of cards collapses.”
“We must also not forget, she is the reason the door is open for the next brown Indian girl on the international stage.”
“And Diljit?”
“Diljit always takes a stand for Punjab, Punjabi and Punjabiyat, no matter the personal cost. After the Met Gala, he said: ‘Me going there isn’t a big deal. But Punjab going there, and a turban being represented there, that’s huge.'”
Jassi, who splits her time between Jalandhar, Delhi and Vancouver and knows what it means to carry Punjab in your bones, became pensive.
“He is not performing for America,” she decides. “He is performing for us, the diaspora. The people who know what it is like to be told ‘go back’.”
“So who wins?”
Comparisons are always unfair, and so we decide that ultimately India wins. One superstar brings the idea of India–Bollywood, the polite namaste. The other brings the soul of Punjab to the bhangra beat. One makes the diaspora feel seen. The other makes them feel seen and heard.
Now pass the Diet Coke. Both the diaspora and the Indian (represent) are tired.
The writer is deputy copy editor, The Indian Express. aishwarya.khosla@indianexpress.com
This was Diljit Dosanjh's second appearance on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. (Instagram/jimmyfallon) 
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