Of Healing, Connection, & Expression: Sonam Kalra On Why Music Is Her Calling

It all started over 14 years ago, when Sonam Kalra was invited to sing a gospel at a Sufi festival in New Delhi. "A Sikh girl singing Christian music, in a seemingly Islamic space," was not a usual sight, but that moment of soulful spiritual harmony became a turning point in her life. Today, she is the award-winning founder of The Sufi Gospel Project, which is driven by this very philosophy of acceptance. Trained in several genres and schools of music, her voice transcends borders, unites identities, and tells stories. "Music, like identity, is not black or white," she believes. 

Sonam, who resides in Delhi, has performed at some of the most coveted platforms worldwide, including the Sydney Opera House in Australia, Muzaffar Ali’s World Sufi Festival Jahan-e-Khusrau, Sama’a Sufi Festival in Egypt, the Kennedy Centre in Washington, and Coke Studio India, among many others. She has shared the stage with revered artists like Abida Parvee and Sir Bob Geldof. She is also a member of the Grammy Recording Academy.

Sonam is more than just a musician; her multidimensional voice has made her a messenger of oneness to the world. She believes in creating a space where global conversations around music create an impact and space for voices that often go unheard. In an interview with SheThePeople, she delved deeper into this approach and her artistic influences. She shared how music has also become a tool of healing, self-discovery, and connection.

Sonam Kalra in conversation with SheThePeople

STP: Can you briefly introduce yourself and how you got into music?

Sonam: I often say that I didn’t choose music—music chose me. It has been a constant companion since childhood. For as long as I can remember, there has always been music in our house.

I remember sitting on my mother’s lap listening to Begum Akhtar, in a chair that I actually still have. My mother made sure I was exposed to all kinds of music and diverse genres, from Indian classical to jazz, gospel, and Western classical music. And I think it was my mother’s deep love for music that was transferred to me. I still remember her face when she listened to music—there was a certain calm, a surrender from deep within—so much emotion that would be apparent on her face when she listened to music, and I think that really impacted me in the best possible way.

That early exposure created a natural pull toward music. I trained in both Hindustani classical and Western traditions, from Indian classical music and ghazals to gospel, jazz, rock, pop, and Western classical music. This exposure to so many different sounds and traditions planted the seed for what would later become my voice as an artist. Though I trained formally in both Hindustani classical and Western styles, it was only later that I began to understand that I wanted to use my voice for more than just performance; I wanted it to say something meaningful. I could use music not just to entertain, but to connect, to express, and ultimately, to heal.

Music is, to use a beautiful Urdu word, my wajood, my existence, and it is only when I am in music that my whole world is in equilibrium. I find time for it because in some form or another, I am always immersed in it, whether it is in planning a repertoire for my next performance, doing my Riyaz, researching poetry, understanding the essence of a verse, writing songs, composing music, or recording in the studio. 

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STP: Was there a defining moment that sparked the inception of The Sufi Gospel Project? 

Sonam: The idea for The Sufi Gospel Project was born about 14 years ago, when I was asked to sing gospel music at the Urz, the birth celebration of the Sufi saint Inayat Khan in Nizamuddin in New Delhi.

Before that, even though my training had been in Indian classical music, I found myself drawn to gospel music, especially the hymn “Amazing Grace,” because I was going through a very difficult time, with my mother battling terminal cancer. It was in this hymn that I used to find strength and solace. And so, I decided to pursue this call from within, found myself a teacher in Singapore, and started learning gospel music.

Soon after, I started getting invited to perform gospel music at festivals and concerts in India. During that period, the one thing almost everyone asked me at the end of a gospel concert was, “Why does a Sikh girl sing gospel music,” or “Christian bhajans,” as someone referred to them. My answer to them always used to be the same: “God has no religion, and religion is not God. I should be free to pray to God in whichever way I feel.”

Two years later, I was invited to sing gospel music at the Urz of Hazrat Inayat Khan, and I think that truly was a turning point in my life—the very thought of a Sikh girl singing gospel, Christian music, in a seemingly Islamic space was so very special for me; I felt like the universe was telling me something. And so, I listened to this call from the universe, from within again, and worked on creating something that could, I hoped, be worthy and befitting of this opportunity that was being granted to me.

And so, the Sufi Gospel Project was born—in the hope of uniting faiths and creating a new, more inclusive definition of Sufism, questioning pre-conceived notions, and explaining the true essence of Sufism through music.

STP: Is there a purpose driving this project?

Sonam: The Sufi Gospel Project is an attempt to blend the many voices of faith and create one universal voice of faith. It is an endeavour to break down the walls that separate us and the labels that distance us. The music that I create blends together the many voices of faith through poetry, prayer, and music to create one universal voice of faith.

Traditional Western gospels meld with Hindustani classical music, and Indian spiritual texts are enriched by elements of Western poetry to create a sound that touches every soul—to put forth the idea that no matter what the language of the lyrics or the ethnicity of the sounds is, there is but one language: the language of faith.

Creating a musical landscape where the words of Sufi master Amir Khusrau blend with the plaintive strains of the age-old gospel hymn “Amazing Grace,” where Sufi poet Kabir Das’s sagacity shares the stage with the ever-moving verses of the hymn “Abide with Me,” and where the playful wisdom of Baba Bulleh Shah’s philosophy is brought to life amidst English texts and Irish music, whilst Guru Nanak’s words resonate with the harmonies of world folk sounds—shedding the garb of traditional Sufi and gospel interpretations and finding common ground to create a more all-inclusive definition of oneness that also embraces Bhakti, contemporary poetry, and more. Proving that many different hallelujahs can exist in harmony. And that whilst each of us has our own truth, and no matter where you find that truth—in a temple, a shrine, a church, or a mosque—the most important fact is that each truth is just as valid.

Sufism, simply put, means an acceptance of all humanity as equal, and I believe this is an important message, especially in the present global socio-political climate.

I’ve often been called a musician with a message, and to me, that feels really special. I really do believe each of us has a purpose here on earth, and I believe I was given the gift of music for a reason—perhaps through music to change mindsets, speak out against injustice, spread the message of inclusion, and make a difference in my own very small way.

STP: You’re trained in various genres of both Indian classical and Western music. How does this diversity influence your identity?

Sonam: It shapes my music completely. Music, like identity, isn’t one-dimensional. My training in different genres has taught me that labels are limiting.

My musical identity is shaped by a deep reverence for the traditions I’ve been fortunate to study. I’ve studied Hindustani classical music as well as Western classical music, jazz, and gospel. This diversity doesn’t just influence what I sing; it shapes how I think and feel. This learning, as well as my journey in creating this multi-faith project, allowed me to look beyond genre and focus on emotional truth. When I sing, I don’t think in terms of boundaries; I think in terms of emotion, of story, of connection.

When I create or perform, I’m not trying to fit into any one tradition. I’m trying to express something honest—something that speaks to the soul.

STP: How did you come to understand the healing power of music? What has your personal relationship with music as therapy been like?

Sonam: For me, music isn’t just art—it’s Ibadat. It’s a prayer. When I sing, it’s a form of worship, a way of connecting with the divine. That spiritual intention guides everything I do. Every note is an offering. Every silence, a space for reflection. And when the audience feels that, we’re all part of that sacred moment together.

I’ve always believed that music is not just heard—it’s felt. I’ve experienced it personally. In times of grief, confusion, or even joy, music has been my anchor. It has held me through heartbreak, grief, and uncertainty. It’s been my constant, my sanctuary. I remember sitting with my tanpura after my mother passed, and the only way I could process my grief was to sing. That period birthed the music, but more than that, it was a balm for the pain and a channel to express my truth.

Music, when created with intention, becomes more than melody—it becomes medicine. It helps us process the things we can’t articulate. It brings the soul into alignment. And that’s what I strive for in every performance—that moment of collective healing, however brief, where we remember we are not alone.

STP: You recently released a song as a tribute to your mother. Can you tell me how the women in your life have influenced you personally and professionally?

Sonam: My mother was my first teacher—not just in life, but in grace, resilience, and love. The tribute I composed for her was born out of a deep loss, but also immense gratitude. My parents have shaped my values, taught me strength, and held up mirrors when I needed to grow.

My father was also a feminist, and both my parents showed me that femininity isn’t fragility—it’s power with softness. These influences flow into my music, often subtly, but always with strength.

In many ways, my music honours my parents. Through every note I sing, I carry their voices, their spirit, and their strength forward.

That tribute came from the deepest part of my heart. Losing my mother was like losing a soulmate—but she continues to live through everything I do, especially my music. She was my anchor, my cheerleader, my compass. Her grace, strength, joy for life, and quiet resilience are qualities I try to embody every day.

The women in my life—my sisters, friends, fellow artists—have all left indelible marks on me. Their stories, their battles, and their wisdom have helped shape the way I look at the world. Professionally, they’ve taught me that compassion and power can coexist. That softness is not weakness. That being a woman in this industry isn’t about outshouting the noise. It’s about creating your own sound, one that resonates with truth.

STP: In a world that thrives on hustle culture, how do you embrace the peaceful, calm moments that inspire your music? 

Sonam: For me, peace isn’t found in the absence of noise—it’s found in the presence of stillness. It’s so easy to get swept up in the hustle—the pressure to always be visible, productive, relevant. But for me, music doesn’t come from noise; it comes from silences. I make a conscious effort to create space for quiet in my life, for I am able only to hear the music in the silences and the stillness. This stillness isn’t emptiness—it’s where the music begins.

In a culture obsessed with speed, I’ve learned to pause. My most profound songs are born not in studios but in silence. I believe that true creativity stems from clarity, and clarity comes when we give ourselves permission to slow down. Music, for me, is an extension of my inner world. The more I nurture it, the more authentic the art becomes. The Sufi Gospel Project is born of that space. It’s about music as a reflection of peace, of surrender, of faith. And in a world that often forgets to breathe, I hope my music invites people to pause and just be.