By Honestly, I never expected “Super Punjab” to blow up like it did. The whole journey felt messy and totally unplanned. Here’s exactly what went down, warts and all.
That Messy First Attempt
Started simple – too simple, honestly. Saw some “Indian street food” accounts getting traction and thought, “Hey, Punjab has amazing food! Let’s share that.” Big mistake number one: rushing.
Grabbed my phone, ran to the local Punjabi restaurant I kinda knew, begged the owner to let me film. He agreed, looking super skeptical. Took some quick shots of him tossing chicken tikka on the grill. Rushed home, slapped on a free editing app, added some generic Bhangra music and flashy text – “Best Tikka Ever!” Posted it on the usual spots with #punjabifood. Felt good. Hit post.
Results? Crickets. Barely 50 views. Comments? Zero. It looked like every other generic food clip out there. Felt kinda defeated. My editing skills were trash, the lighting was awful, and the whole thing screamed “tourist” instead of authentic.
Watching Those Chicken Tikka Videos (& Feeling Stupid)
Got frustrated. Spent days just watching Punjabi street food videos, especially from local vendors. Not the fancy travel vlogs. Observed everything.
- Sound: The sizzle when meat hit the hot plate! The clang of his big metal spatula!
- Focus: Close-ups on his rough hands adding spices, not just the finished dish.
- Personality: The vendor yelling orders, laughing with regulars. That energy!
My video had none of that. I captured food, not the soul. Felt dumb for missing it. Just food pics wouldn’t cut it.
Scrapping Everything And Restarting (From Scratch)
Swallowed my pride. Went back to the restaurant owner, Ajit. Apologized for the crappy first video. Told him straight: “Your place has life. I want to show THAT.” This time, I begged to just hang out for an hour, observe.
No filming initially. Just watched. Saw how he knew customers by name, the jokes flying fast in Punjabi, the sheer chaos during lunch rush. Saw the pride in his face when he layered those spices. Took notes. Real ones.
Asked him: “What makes YOUR tikka different, Ajit?” He grinned, grabbed a handful of his secret masala mix. “This is Amritsar,” he said. That was gold.
Finally Clicking With REAL Punjabis
Second shoot was different.
- Focus: Ajit’s hands working the grill, his weathered face lighting up telling stories.
- Sound: Held the mic closer. Got the CRACKLE of the fire. His laugh.
- Light: Ditched the phone flash. Waited for natural morning light hitting the grill smoke.
- Style: No cheesy music. Just the kitchen bustle. Added subtitles for his Punjabi jokes.
Posted: “Why Ajit’s Chicken Tikka Tastes Like Amritsar (His Secret Masala!) #punjabifood #punjabi”. Felt nervous.
Check my phone an hour later. Shocked. Views climbing. Comments? Real people! “This uncle reminds me of my dhaba back home!” “Finally, real Punjab sound!” Local Punjabis started tagging friends. It wasn’t viral… but it felt real. My Punjabi friend’s mom even called him: “Beta, is this your friend? He got Ajit right!” That felt huge.
What Actually Worked (The Real ‘Insider’ Stuff)
Looking back, the popularity wasn’t magic:
- Authenticity over Polish: People smelled the fake effort the first time. The real noise, the uncle’s personality… that connected.
- Finding the Insider: Ajit wasn’t just a cook; he was the soul. Letting HIM shine was key.
- Details Matter: The sound of spices hitting the hot oil, the texture of his hands… tiny things screamed “real Punjab” louder than any drone shot.
- Community First: Punjabis saw themselves in Ajit. They shared it because it felt like THEIR story, not some outsider’s view.
It wasn’t a strategy. I just stopped making it about me or “content,” and started showing what was already there, raw and loud. Turns out, that’s what people actually wanted to see. Go figure.
