I don’t know how else to explain Punjabiyat without starting from my childhood.
My grandfather believed time was sacred.
He believed stories were currency.
And he believed memory was a form of discipline.
In our home, storytelling did not happen for free. It was bartered — often for a massage after a long day’s labour. He was a first-generation migrant, displaced by Partition, carrying with himself not land, but time, routine, and stories. That is how culture survives- not in textbooks, but in humans.
Seventy kilometres from his ancestral land in Sahiwal, a British archaeologist discovered Harappa. While museums framed it as a “lost civilization,” for us it was never lost. It was merely unlabelled. Its objects had moved, but its temperament - of trade, debate, craft, and continuity - had not.
When I later walked through the National Museum in Delhi, it felt less like education and more like pilgrimage. Objects spoke. Metal endured. Stone remembered.
Punjabiyat was born from this realization:
that modern life is efficient but forgetful.
And forgetting is the most expensive luxury of all.
We do not sell products.
We curate reminders.
And we send you a Bouquet of Culture
Before you buy anything from Punjabiyat, understand this:
Every object here has weight — not just in metal, but in memory.
If that matters to you, welcome.
If not, this place will feel unnecessary.
And that is exactly as it should be.