New Punjabi Films [exclusive] Direct

A genre-bending horror-comedy. A faded Punjabi folk singer, whose career was ruined by autotune pop stars, discovers that the new hit song "Disco Di Raat" is actually an ancient curse. Every time someone plays it, a Chudail (witch) drains the life force from the oldest person in the village. The singer must assemble a team: a cynical music producer, a skeptical granthi , and a teenage gamer who knows occult lore from Reddit. They fight the witch not with mantras , but by forcing her to listen to real, raw, un-autotuned folk music—which disintegrates her synthetic soul.

"Welcome to the 1970s, folks," the old man said, tapping the reel of film with a gnarled finger. "This was Punjab’s golden heart."

No romance. A brutal, beautiful drama. A young farmer, Chann, returns from Australia not with a suitcase of dollars, but with a degree in regenerative agriculture. His father, a traditional wheat farmer drowning in debt, disowns him. The conflict isn't a villain—it’s the unfeeling sky: a drought that never ends. Chann fights to convince his stubborn village to switch to ancient millets and new water-saving tech. The emotional core is a silent scene where the father, after failing his own crop, secretly watches his son’s experimental field flourish in the moonlight. No song-and-dance. Just the sound of wind and a single tumbi string. new punjabi films

That night, Bauji had a dream. He saw the ghost of a legendary filmmaker, who handed him a cracked clapboard. "The problem isn't the new generation," the ghost whispered. "The problem is you stopped evolving. Don't remake the past. Resurrect it."

A goofy, hilarious satire. Two rival wedding planners—one from Chandigarh, one from Brampton—accidentally get trapped inside an AI-generated "Perfect Punjab" metaverse during a software glitch. To escape, they must successfully host a virtual wedding for a Punjabi ghost. The humor comes from cultural clashes: a Bhangra step that corrupts the code, a Lassi that's just a blue screen of death. It's a commentary on how we perform "Punjabiness" online versus who we really are. The climax is the two rivals falling in love, not in VR, but when they finally unplug and see each other's real, tired, smiling faces in a dusty real-world internet café. A genre-bending horror-comedy

Bauji stood in a packed, silent cinema. Not a single phone was lit up.

Not a rustic peasant, but a drone pilot from a village near the border. When his friend’s sister is catfished and trafficked by a fake online "Romeo," Mirza doesn't pick up a gandasa (axe). He picks up a keyboard. The chase scene isn't on horses; it’s through encrypted servers and a final, brutal face-to-face in a dark web basement. The climax? He doesn't kill the villain. He hacks the villain’s own hacked system, trapping him in a virtual loop of his crimes. The last shot: Mirza riding a modified electric tractor into the sunset. The song? A remix of the old folk tune, but with lyrics about firewalls and revenge. The singer must assemble a team: a cynical

"Boring," whispered a girl in a neon turban. "Where's the beat drop?"