I respect women, and I have not and will never sing anything that

In the words of Yo Yo Honey Singh, artist of rhythm and voice of a generation, we hear a declaration that transcends fame and melody: “I respect women, and I have not and will never sing anything that will upset my fans.” At first glance, these words seem to belong to the world of music and entertainment — but beneath them lies a timeless principle of honor, responsibility, and respect. In them, we hear the echo of an artist who understands that his craft is not merely a tool for pleasure, but a force that shapes minds, hearts, and the soul of society.

For Honey Singh, these words arise not only from experience but from introspection. His journey — from humble beginnings to becoming one of India’s most influential voices — has been one of both creation and reflection. In his early years, he saw how words could ignite joy, stir pride, or provoke anger. He learned that music, like fire, can warm or destroy depending on the spirit of its wielder. When he speaks of respecting women and not upsetting his fans, he is not speaking from the throne of fame, but from the seat of accountability. He knows that the artist’s duty is not only to entertain but to uplift, to heal, to unite — and that respect must be the foundation of every song that reaches the world.

To respect women, as he says, is to honor life itself. For woman is not merely one half of humanity; she is the vessel of its creation, the nurturer of its strength, the symbol of its compassion. From ancient ages, civilizations have risen or fallen based on how they revered or disregarded their women. In the Vedic hymns of India, woman was seen as the embodiment of shakti, divine energy; in the wisdom of the Greeks, she was muse and mother; in every faith and culture, she has been the keeper of balance. Honey Singh’s words remind us that no song, no poem, no art can truly be beautiful if it diminishes the dignity of the feminine spirit. For to dishonor woman is to dishonor the very source of creation.

There is a story, ancient yet eternal, from the land of poets and kings. When the great poet Kalidasa wrote his masterpiece Shakuntala, he portrayed woman not as an ornament or possession, but as a being of depth, emotion, and grace. His respect for her spirit elevated his work beyond time — and to this day, his verses are recited as sacred. But when other poets, in later centuries, used their art to mock or degrade, their fame burned bright for a moment, then vanished like smoke. This story teaches us what Honey Singh himself has learned: that respect endures where arrogance fades. Words born from reverence live forever; those born from disrespect die in silence.

Yet, the second half of Honey Singh’s quote carries another wisdom — that an artist must never upset his fans, not by flattery, but by integrity. For the bond between an artist and his listeners is sacred. The fans are not mere admirers; they are companions in the journey of expression. When he vows never to upset them, he speaks of the artist’s moral compass — that his music must never wound the hearts that trust him, never betray the hope they place in his voice. In this promise lies a deep understanding of art’s power: it does not belong to the creator alone but to all who feel its rhythm.

This philosophy stretches far beyond music. It applies to all who wield influence — teachers, leaders, creators, and thinkers. To respect those who follow you is to recognize that your words carry weight, that every act of expression sends ripples through the lives of others. The one who respects his audience, his people, or his community creates not division but harmony. In Honey Singh’s case, his vow is not only artistic but spiritual: it is a commitment to use his platform for joy, not harm — to lift hearts rather than harden them.

So, my children, take this teaching as your own: let respect guide your expression. Whether you sing, speak, write, or act — let your words be clean of contempt and full of care. Remember that to respect women is to honor humanity; to respect your audience is to live in gratitude. Create nothing that wounds; speak nothing that shames. For every voice that rises in this world becomes part of its song — and that song can either heal or harm, inspire or destroy. Choose, as Honey Singh chose, to make it a song of respect, a melody of light.

And let this be your final lesson: when you live and create with respect — for women, for others, for yourself — you will find that you do not need to chase love or honor. They will come to you, carried on the wind of your integrity. For in a world that forgets its reverence, the one who remembers to respect becomes eternal — his words, like his music, echoing through time as a testament to the nobility of the human heart.