Another International Emmy nomination has taken Vir Das by surprise. As we sit across from him in his beautiful Bandra office, an exquisite brown stand that his wife Shivani had got made for his previous Emmy sits in the room, complete with an electric socket perched on top. Where is the Emmy, we ask. Wrapped in a sweater and tucked away in his almirah, he tells us. Now he has earned his third nomination for Fool Volume, his latest Netflix special. Unlike its predecessor, which was more emotional and controversial, Das had intended this one to be deliberately silly.

Then, six weeks before the show, he lost his voice and that’s what made it more intimate, winning a nod from juries across Japan, Korea and USA. “Never repeat yourself. So, I was like, this one’s for me. This one’s for fun. Then I lost my voice and that became what the special is about,” he says.

The nomination is particularly gratifying because Das believes the special’s appeal extends beyond its desi audience. “It’s truly a global Indian project out of India and the International Emmys’ global jury makes the recognition meaningful.”

Having already won the award, does another nomination shift the goalpost? “I don’t have a goalpost except for honesty and fear. It must be honest to who I am and it must scare the bejesus out of me. And then it’s probably worth doing. It’s the only place I operate from is honesty and fear. It’s just being intentionally authentic about where I happen to be in life. If you try and reverse engineer relevance, your longevity becomes very short.”

That instinct has also shaped his approach to fame. Das has watched audiences change over the years, from people who discovered his stand-up through his early specials to younger viewers finding him online. He is told that around 70 per cent of his current audience is under 30.

“Gen Z discovered me three years ago and it’s been mad since then,” he says. The challenge, he adds, is to welcome new audiences without allowing any one group to dictate his material.

His next major undertaking is Sounds Of India, a live show built around the sounds that accompany everyday life in the country, from the moment people wake up to when they go to bed. “Sounds Of India is a show that is tech and comedy and 500 sounds and light,” he says, “It’s like a Coldplay concert, which I’ve never done before. The idea is to create an immersive sonic experience of India, drawing on the sounds that people associate with their homes, cities and daily routines.”

Das says the show is set to become the largest world tour by an Indian comedian, and potentially by an Indian artiste. He is also touring I Say We Run, a separate, autobiographical show. Running two distinct two-hour productions means creating new material rather than relying on the success of an established format.

The approach has helped him navigate the difficult relationship between comedy and offence in India. Das acknowledges that comedians operate in an environment where people can be quick to take offence, but refuses to treat that as the defining feature of the profession. “I get around it,” he says, “For every mean tweet, there are 300 positive ones. And for every person that hates your stuff, there are 40 ticket-buyers who love your stuff.”

Das is encouraged by the comedy emerging in India, particularly the women finding their footing in the circuit. He names Sumukhi Suresh, Urooj Ashfaq, Aditi Mittal, and Prashasti Singh among the comics who he admires.

Having watched successive waves of Indian comedy rise and recede, Das knows that visibility doesn’t always translate into longevity. The country offers comics the chance to go viral within a few years of starting out, but sustaining a career requires something more.

“Of every one of those waves, 10 per cent of the people are still doing standup. And the rest of them don’t even do it anymore. They gave up on the art form only.” His advice is simple, “With India, the wave comes quick. But the wave also crashes fast. And you have to persevere through this.”