Kamal Ghorui
There’s something about Satinder Sartaaj that feels instantly recognisable. The flowing kurta, the softly structured turban, that almost poetic silhouette – it’s not just fashion, it’s identity. But what most people don’t know is that this now-iconic Sufi aesthetic wasn’t carefully planned or styled by a designer. It actually began with a spontaneous moment, and interestingly, it traces back to Yami Gautam’s father.And the story behind it? It’s as organic as it gets.Right now, Sartaaj is everywhere. His haunting vocals in Dhurandhar: The Revenge, especially the line “Saanu saariyaan visar gayiyaan rahaan ve…”, have taken over reels, playlists, and honestly, people’s moods. But while the music is having its moment, it’s his presence – his look – that quietly continues to stand out.
Recently, while performing at the Jahan-e-Khusrau World Sufi Music Festival in Delhi’s historic Purana Qila, Sartaaj shared a memory that felt less like a throwback and more like the origin story of his entire aesthetic.“When I got a call to sing for Dhurandhar, I told Aditya Dhar that your father-in-law, Mukesh Gautam, played a huge role in shaping my libaas,” he said on stage. And honestly, that one line got everyone curious.
So what’s the connection?
We rewind to 2003. Sartaaj was still a student at Panjab University, deep into his PhD in Sufism. No fame, no signature style-just a young artist figuring things out. Around that time, Mukesh Gautam, who was heading a television channel in Chandigarh, was working on a project around the legendary Sufi poet Waris Shah. He needed someone who could not only narrate but also sing live.Someone pointed him towards Sartaaj.“I went and said, ‘Yes sir, I can try,’” he recalled. When Gautam asked him what he planned to wear, Sartaaj kept it simple: a basic salwar kameez. Nothing dramatic. Nothing styled.But the real moment happened on set.At Dara Studio in Mohali, surrounded by heavy black curtains and that quiet, almost theatrical stillness, something clicked. Sartaaj noticed the fabric and asked for a piece. Drawing inspiration from a black-and-white image of Waris Shah he had in his hostel room, he wrapped the cloth around his head in a similar style.No stylist. No mirror-perfect planning. Just instinct.“When I came out, Mukesh sir said, ‘Amazing, you look very good,’” Sartaaj shared.And just like that, a look was born.What’s fascinating is how that one spontaneous decision evolved into something so deeply tied to his identity. Today, that same silhouette – the draped turban, the fluid ethnic layers, the almost old-world grace – feels inseparable from his music. It’s not costume. It’s continuity.In a world where celebrity style is often hyper-curated, mood-boarded, and brand-approved, Sartaaj’s aesthetic feels refreshingly untouched. It carries memory, culture, and a certain stillness that you don’t see very often anymore.And maybe that’s why it works.Because it didn’t start as a “look.” It started as a feeling.
Of course, credit where it’s due – Mukesh Gautam recognised it instantly. Sometimes all it takes is one person to say, this is you, and everything shifts.Today, while Sartaaj continues to tour globally and his music travels across continents, that original essence hasn’t changed. The same rooted, almost spiritual visual language still defines him.So the next time you see him on stage, wrapped in those signature layers, just know – it didn’t come from a fashion house or a styling team.It came from a black curtain, a college memory, and a moment that quietly turned into legacy.
