I held deep respect and admiration for Sardar Jatinder Singh Brar for his extraordinary contributions to Punjab and Punjabi theater. As a devoted admirer of his work, no trip to India ever felt complete without visiting the sacred Darbar Sahib (Golden Temple) and Punjab Naatshala in Amritsar. The open-air theater he created left an indelible impression on me—its raw energy, the roar of the crowd, the scent of earth and greasepaint, and the way it brought Punjabi culture vividly to life under the stars.

Today, I am honored to share a personal mission: to build a new Punjab Naatshala in memory of Sardar Jatinder Brar on the campus of Guru Nanak Dev Global University in Texas, USA, by 2035. This will be a living tribute to his legacy, ensuring his vision of accessible, vibrant Punjabi theater continues to inspire generations far beyond Amritsar.

Below is my humble poetic tribute, written with profound gratitude and love. May his soul rest in eternal peace.

Flame Beneath the Open Sky – For Jatinder Brar

Jatinder Brar JI returned— not with blueprints of steel,

but with a heart pounding like dhol at Lohri fire.

An engineer who traded distant skylines for the scent of mustard fields and diesel lamps,

He carved 2,250 yards of sacred dust into Punjab Naatshala—a roofless cathedral of passion.

No velvet curtains here,

only the night sky stitched with stars and the low hum of ceiling fans slicing humid air.

Strings of bare bulbs flicker like fireflies drunk on anticipation;

The wooden stage groans under bare feet,

sweat-glistened backs, voices cracking with raw Punjabi fire; Laughter erupts sharp as mustard-seed pop,

tears fall heavy as monsoon rain on parched tin roofs.

He wrote thirty storms in ink and heartbeat:

“Payedaan” spilling comedy like spilled lassi across village gossip circles,

“Saka Jallianwala Bagh” bleeding crimson memory, bullets echoing in every whispered line, Actors rising like wheat after flood;

Raw, resilient, reborn under his steady gaze.

He taught Kapil’s lightning tongue,

Bharti’s sunburst laugh, Cradled trembling newcomers in calloused hands,

whispering: “Bolo ji, the sky is listening.”

Shiromani Natak medallions hung quiet on his kurta, Yet his truest crown was the weekend roar;

clapping hands like thunder rolling over mustard gold, The scent of roasted peanuts and jasmine garlands mingling with greasepaint and resolve.

Now the lamps still blaze every Saturday, every Sunday, Wind carries old lines across the open yard, Actors pause mid-breath,

feeling his engineer’s precision in their timing, His dreamer’s fire warming cold spotlights.

Jatinder Brar—weaver of mirth and mourning, Builder of a stage that drinks starlight and gives back soul. In every flung gesture, every tear-streaked cheek under Amritsar moon, Your spirit strides the boards, forever uncurtained, forever alive.

With deepest respect and unwavering commitment,

Baljit Singh, Founding Member & Chairman | Guru Nanak Dev Global University Flower Mound, Texas | Email: bsingh@gndgu.com

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