Lohri is one of the oldest seasonal festivals of Punjab, deeply rooted in the agricultural cycle and the lived experience of winter. Across South Asia, similar festivals appear under different names, including Pongal, Sankranti, Khichri, Hadaga, Ugadi, Magh Bihu and Onam. Each reflects a local climate and cultural rhythm, yet all mark transition. In Punjab, Lohri has traditionally been less a religious observance and more a celebration of the season, survival and community.
Before the Partition of 1947, it was observed throughout united Punjab by Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs alike. Bonfires were lit not to draw boundaries but to gather people together. Lohri announced that winter had reached its peak and that the land was turning once more towards fertility.
In Punjab, Lohri usually falls on the last day of the month of Poh or during the sugarcane harvest. It carried a clear message of change. Long nights would begin to shorten, and the harshness of the cold would slowly ease. While some scholars associate Lohri with Vedic traditions and Hindu worship of the sun, its everyday expression in Punjab remained largely secular. The festival belonged to fields and streets rather than temples. Fire, food and song mattered more than ritual doctrine. It was a moment when communities paused to acknowledge the land and one another.
Over time, Lohri became inseparable from the folk memory of Dulla Bhatti, a figure who embodies resistance, justice and generosity. Dulla Bhatti, whose real name is believed to have been Rai Abdullah Khan, belonged to Pindi Bhattian. Folk tradition describes him as the foster brother of Mughal emperor Jahangir, though their relationship was marked by conflict rather than kinship.
When Dulla Bhatti learned that the Mughal state was responsible for the killing of his ancestors and for the exploitation of local peasants through excessive taxation, he chose rebellion. Some historians emphasise his opposition to unjust revenue policies imposed on poor cultivators, while others point to personal grievance rooted in family history. These explanations are not mutually exclusive. In Punjab’s oral tradition, Dulla Bhatti stands at the intersection of personal loss and collective resistance.
Ishwar Dayal Gaur notes that this uprising grew so intense that Emperor Akbar shifted the Mughal capital from Delhi to Lahore for nearly two decades in order to maintain control. Whether or not this move can be attributed solely to Dulla Bhatti’s rebellion, the episode underscores the scale of unrest in the region. His legacy survived not through court chronicles but through song. In Pindi Bhattian, Dulle di Vaar is still sung today. Mazhar-ul-Islam, in his book Lok Punjab, documents this tradition in detail. Locals identify an old well as the site of Dulla Bhatti’s home, and at village fairs, mirasis continue to recount his story, keeping his defiance alive in memory rather than monument.
One popular anecdote describes an encounter between Dulla Bhatti and Emperor Akbar that illustrates the symbolic power of folk resistance. In this tale, Dulla asks Akbar who he is. Akbar replies that he is the bhatt of Emperor Akbar. Dulla responds that one does not salute a bhatt and walks away.
Festivals once tied to seasons rather than sects have gradually been labelled religiously alien and quietly abandoned. Yet such traditions were never about exclusion. They created shared spaces, softened divisions and strengthened social bonds
Later, when Dulla appears in the imperial court, he enters through a low doorway in reverse, placing his legs inside first and keeping his back towards the emperor. When Akbar offers him a pardon in exchange for a salute, Dulla refuses, saying that since Akbar had called himself a bhatt, he does not salute mirasis. Variations of this story also circulate in connection with Sheikh Ahmad Sirhindi, demonstrating how folk narratives travel, merge and adapt over time.
The most enduring connection between Lohri and Dulla Bhatti, however, lies in the legend of Sundri and Mundri. According to popular accounts, a man named Mol Chand failed to repay a loan, prompting a local landlord to abduct his daughters. Some writers suggest the landlord was infatuated with one of the girls and attempted to force Mol Chand into a marriage arrangement.
When Dulla Bhatti learned of this injustice, he rescued the sisters and took them into the forest. With no formal arrangements available, he arranged their marriages himself. He gathered firewood, lit a fire, and placed sugar and sesame seeds into the girls’ shawls to complete the ritual. The verses sung in place of formal mantras survived as a folk song that remains closely associated with Lohri:
سندر مندریے
تیرا کون وچھارا ہو
دلا بھٹی والا ہو
دُلّے دی دھی ویاہی ہو
شیر شکّر پائی ہو
کڑی دا لال پٹاخہ ہو
کڑی دا سالو پاٹہ ہو
سالو کون سمیٹے
چاچے چوری کُٹی
زمیندارا لُٹی
زمینددار سُدھائے
بڑے بھولے آئے
اک بھولا رہ گیا
سپاہی پھر کے لے گیا
سپاہی نے ماری اٹ
سانوں دے دے لوڑی
تے تیری جیوے جوڑی
بھانویں رو تے بھانویں پٹ
سندر مندریے
These verses exist in slightly altered forms across Punjab, yet their core meaning remains unchanged. They celebrate resistance to oppression and the protection of honour. Over time, the phrase sanon de de lohri became central to the festival itself, linking generosity with justice.
Accounts of Dulla Bhatti’s death are also shaped by legend. Yunus Adeeb writes that many researchers believe Dulla Bhatti was a disciple of Shah Hussain and that followers of the Sufi poet joined the rebellion under the influence of his teachings. It is said that when Dulla Bhatti was executed at Miani Sahib in Lahore, Shah Hussain was officially detained at the city’s kotwali, yet people claimed to see him present at the execution site.
Another widely repeated belief holds that Shah Hussain later received Dulla Bhatti’s body from the authorities, led his funeral prayers at Bhati Chowk, and buried him on a mound at Miani Sahib. Although a grave attributed to Dulla Bhatti exists today near the enclosure of Major Shabbir Sharif, it is of recent construction. There is no conclusive historical evidence confirming it as his final resting place, leaving the matter open to further research.
Before Partition, Lohri held a vibrant place in Lahore’s cultural life. Syed Sharafat Hussain recalls that on cold and dark December nights, Lohri fairs were held across the city. Large bonfires were lit, musical gatherings took place, and hot halwa puri was distributed among participants. Master Muhammad Sharif describes how bonfires burned at Bhati Chowk, Lohari Chowk, Shah Alami, Dabbi Bazaar, Kashmiri Bazaar and Suha Bazaar. Early in the evening, groups of young girls would sing:
مومائی دے کے جا
داڑھی پھل پوا کے جا
The fires remained lit throughout the night, transforming public spaces into centres of warmth and song.
A Hameed, who wrote extensively on Lahore’s social and cultural life, also recalls Lohri in his memoirs. He notes that during the peak of winter, Hindu and Sikh communities celebrated the festival with particular enthusiasm. Sweetmakers prepared rewari, gachak and batashas, which were exchanged as gifts. Small bonfires were lit on every street. Boys warmed thin sugarcane stalks in the fire and struck them against the ground until they burst with a sharp crack. Children went from shop to shop collecting contributions while singing:
ہٹی والیا ویرا
سِر سونے دا چیرا
سانوں موہ مائی دے
تیری جیوے مجھی گائیں
Money collected was spent on sweets that were then shared among friends.
Many customs were associated with Lohri. One was Lohri viaun, in which boys brought firewood from another neighbourhood’s bonfire. Children went door to door chanting, dabba bharya lehran da te eh ghar ameeran da. E. D. Maclagan records that the first Lohri after a child’s birth was celebrated with special joy, with copper coins and cowrie shells distributed among the poor.
Tahir Lahori highlights the literary dimension of the festival, noting that winter fairs involved less commerce and more poetic exchange. Young men gathered around fires in bazaars, engaging in bait bazi competitions, while boys danced bhangra outside homes in return for jaggery, sugar and other treats.
Today, Lohri is officially celebrated only in Indian Punjab. In Pakistan, it survives faintly, remembered by elders but unfamiliar to many young people. Festivals once tied to seasons rather than sects have gradually been labelled religiously alien and quietly abandoned. Yet such traditions were never about exclusion. They created shared spaces, softened divisions and strengthened social bonds. Lohri was one such moment of collective warmth.
Reintroducing Lohri is not merely an act of nostalgia. It is a way of reconnecting with a plural past and with local heroes such as Dulla Bhatti, whose courage and compassion emerged from this land. Alongside global figures, children deserve to know the stories rooted in their own soil. For Punjabis in particular, reviving Lohri can help rescue fading traditions from oblivion and remind us that culture, like a winter fire, survives only when people choose to gather around it.