It was 7.45 pm when I clicked on the Zoom link. Then ping — “Vir’s iPhone” popped up, streaming in from New York City. It was surreal. My parents are massive Vir Das fans; my mother once set an alarm to snag tickets to his show in Worli, where he filmed Fool Volume. She hit “book” just seconds before the stadium sold out—this was a first for her. Das, meanwhile, has made a habit of firsts.

He’s the first Indian to win an International Emmy for comedy (Vir Das: Landing) and the first to headline a residency at Lincoln Center with Hey Stranger. “It’s like being back in drama school in my 40s,” he laughs. The show, he says, sits “halfway between a stand-up and a one-man show” — characters, arcs, even moments of silence sneaking between the laughs.

Now he’s also turned that restless outsider energy to the page with The Outsider: A Memoir for Misfits (HarperCollins). After his Emmy win, publishers came calling, but he hesitated. “I didn’t feel I had done enough yet,” he says simply. He agreed only if the book could be about “cluelessness and failure.” The result, he says, is “about a feeling most people share. Success isn’t that interesting — it’s boring. Struggling with it, complaining about it — that’s where the story is.”

Writing, he admits, was hard. “I’m dyslexic, so I talk first and then write it down,” he says. “It’s tough, but my favourite chapter is about my dog, Watson.” He’s spoken before about how dyslexia shapes his rhythm — a performer’s ear guiding his prose.

The trickiest part, though, was “leaving out arrogance and entitlement and making it connect with people who may not know me, who feel mid-journey rather than on top of the mountain.”

His Emmy, by the way, isn’t displayed on a shelf. “It’s wrapped with the sweaters, in the cupboard where we keep the garam kapda,” he grins. “It hasn’t changed my life, and it shouldn’t. I’m a comedian; if I went on stage with an Emmy in my hand, the show would be harder.” He admits he’s proud of it, “but in the end, it’s just something that belongs on a shelf.”

When he won it though, in 2023, he dedicated that Emmy — the first ever for an Indian comedian — to India, calling it a win for “every artist who dares to speak their truth.”

That ability to deflate grandeur with a joke isn’t new; it’s a reflex that’s been with him since childhood, a time that also makes an appearance in his memoir. “I faked appendicitis to get out of boarding school,” he laughs, calling it his “most convincing performance so far.”

He and his sister, author-filmmaker Trisha Das, were together at The Lawrence School, Sanawar. “Trisha was the first to read my book. We’re brutally honest; there’s no sugarcoating.” The award-winning writer, known for feminist retellings Ms Draupadi Kuru and The Misters Kuru, surprised him by being “quite complimentary.”

His time at Knox College in Illinois, Das says, “changed everything.” He’d gone there to study economics and left as a theatre student. “In India, education is thought-based; in the US, it was about emotion and expression. That suited me.”

It’s also where he first tried comedy. “For my graduation, I did a stand-up show called Brown Men Can’t Hump. It went really well, and I thought, maybe this is for me.” Years later, Knox would honour him with its Young Alumni Award, a full circle moment for the student who switched majors and never looked back.

What followed was a hustle: acting, theatre, late-night TV, even a rock-comedy band called Alien Chutney. Then came global visibility through his OTT specials and tours that sold out across continents. His Two Indias monologue, performed at the Kennedy Center in 2021, earned both standing ovations and backlash — he became the accidental face of the free-speech debate in Indian comedy, a flashpoint that made him, for better or worse, one of India’s most internationally recognizable comics.

If Knox shaped his craft, the years that followed tested his resilience . Six weeks before filming Fool Volume, Das lost his voice. “It was like losing your life force,” he says. The recovery taught him to take himself less seriously. “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, but I’m grateful it happened.” The episode softened his delivery and lent his quick-fire humour a disarming warmth.

“I’m five foot eight and a half, from Delhi Public School,” he laughs. “So the fact that I get to play Carnegie Hall or star in a movie — it’s statistically insane.” Bollywood, stand-up, writing, music — he’s tried them all. “That cluelessness comes with gratitude,” he says. “I just feel like I’ve been invited to the coolest party in the world. Now my job is to make people laugh.”

Yet, he also says, “Comedians aren’t the life of the party. We’re the ones sitting in the corner making fun of the life of the party. We’re losers, socially anxious — and that’s what makes us comics.” It’s a strange job, he says, getting on stage to talk about your problems to strangers. “Best-case scenario, they see something of themselves in you.”

Clearly, many do. Das now tours sold-out venues from Melbourne to Montreal, Edinburgh to New York. “The audience keeps changing,” he says. “And so does the line [where creative liberty starts to feel like provocation]. My job’s just to keep walking it.” 

The actor-comedian feels that the negativity on these platforms are “understandable, as people at home are not putting up with your sh**”
Nishad Neelambaran (HINDUSTAN TIMES; September 3, 2020)

“I have spent so much time shooting and touring, I didn’t really get the time for writing and development and this [Coronavirus lockdown] was like nice four months to write,” says Vir Das. Ask the actor-comedian what is the first thing he wants to do after the lockdown ends, and he says, “I want to go surfing. Over the past five years, I have taken up surfing seriously. Once the monsoon ends, I want to go to a beach for about 20 to 30 days and surf from morning to night.”

Does this lockdown period put an added pressure on comedians to deliver better on their social media platforms? “No, I don’t think so. It is your platform and you choose the content you want to put up. How much pressure you want to undergo is entirely upto you. I realised a long time ago that social media is a very minute reflection of the real world,” he opines.

Das, 41, feels that “because of how much my [show] tickets costs, expectations are always high”. “The last time I was allowed to have a bad show was about 10 years ago. Front row costs too much. If you spend ₹5,000, I better be bloody good,” he laughs. Das, who has done countless shows till date, says that he gets his motivation by “scaring” himself. “For me, it’s always like, ‘am I scared of this?’ then let’s go for it. And then it motivates me,” he concludes.

Designing a lockdown special for charity, Vir Das on finding humour in a world upended by the pandemic and rising intolerance
Mohar Basu (MID-DAY; August 25, 2020)

Six months after his Netflix special For India wowed the world, Vir Das has returned with Inside Out. Besides being a venture to collect funds for charity, the special — pieced together from 30 virtual live shows he did during the lockdown — is arguably the comedian's most intimate work. Das agrees it is difficult to pull this off without the muscle of an OTT giant. "It is twice harder to do this on our own. But it's a charity special that is an experiment. There are many around the globe who will gladly pay a dollar or Rs 30 for charity. I believe there is kindness in the world, more so now. I have a sizeable fan base and am personally monitoring the bookings," he begins over a phone call.

The actor-comedian was scheduled to take his shows to 36 countries when the lockdown was announced. But an artiste can never be stopped. "I was feeling my most creative, and there was no chance I would get rusty because of a damn virus. You'd assume it's tough to be funny in a grim world. But in my experience, it was far easier. People are craving a good laugh, and making jokes is the best therapy," he says, adding that the special also focuses on how the Coronavirus pandemic has upended people's lives. He cites the example of Pranav E, who has secured 90 per cent scholarship to an engineering college in the US, but is unable to get his visa appointment. "There is an old man waiting to have dinner with his daughters. Their stories made me put myself out there for the first time."

A lockdown gig isn't without its share of difficulties — there are family members knocking on the door, babies babbling, toilets flushing, etc. "I began with a simple question — what will you do when the world opens up again? There are people from Wuhan, Africa, Poland, Costa Rica, Spain , all of them talking of their dreams that have been put on pause. When I am in front of a live audience, I feed off their energy. On a Zoom call, it's different. When you can see the posters on their walls and their parents dropping by to say hello, it's heartwarming."

Hasan Minhaj's Patriot Act was cancelled by Netflix last week. In the wake of comedy being scrutinised and rape threats issued to female comics, Das believes the world needs to turn down its desire to censor. "The basis of [Patriot Act's] cancellation is unknown, but Hasan is a great artiste. Threatening someone's safety is unacceptable, but the solution is to develop more comedy until people understand it's just a joke. There are voices drowning out comedy; that leaves us with a battleground that is democratic and allows us to comment on everything that matters to us. Fight with your art is my mantra. Does intolerance bother me? Yes. But it's futile to dwell on it. I have conditioned myself such that I don't let these people get to me. If they do, I spend a moment, then get up and write a joke about it."

Vir Das on his second Netflix show winning acclaim and comparisons with comic Hasan Minhaj
Mohar Basu (MID-DAY; December 18, 2018)

In showbiz parlance, you know you've arrived when your face is splashed across a billboard on Times Square. But Vir Das chooses to play it cool when we meet him at his Bandra office. "What star? I am perpetually jet lagged, and I have to take Watson [his bull dog] to the vet. Stars don't do these things," he quips. And just like that, his self-deprecating brand of humour comes to the fore.

After Abroad Understanding (2017), his second Netflix original, Losing It, has opened to a thunderous response. The stand-up comic is currently working on his third collaboration with the streaming giant. It's no mean feat, but Das gives himself little credit for how his career shaped up.

"It was a stroke of luck; an agency saw my work, flew me down and I had to do an improv at a Hollywood club. Netflix officials saw me there and offered me a show. ABC Studios spotted me during my appearance on Late Night With Conan O' Brien. That's how I came on board for Whiskey Cavalier [an upcoming series]. I see my career as a collective act of kindness. Indian fans tagged their US friends; it is because of them that my appearance on Conan's series was amongst the most watched videos of his show."

Das is probably the only Indian comic who has made his presence felt internationally. Ask him if there's a method to the madness, and he says, "I can't wear that introspective look and talk about my craft. I am focussed on what I have to do right now - I cannot be bad at all, and being good requires a great deal of work. Only artistes who take themselves seriously talk about their process. Don't over-intellectualise me, I am a joker!"

Comparisons with Netflix's blue-eyed boy, comic Hasan Minhaj, are inevitable. But Das shrugs it off, saying, "Hasan and I have deep respect for each other, and we have conveyed it warmly. But our work is drastically different. His is a classic American story, a first-generation immigrant take. It's assumed that people are pigeonholed in America, but that's not true. People want to know who you are and what your story is."

By Das' own admission, Priyanka Chopra has been instrumental in paving the path for more Indian artistes in the US. "Population statistics also come into play because American network shows are now on digital platforms. I try to make my writing personal to make sure that there is more than mere laughs. I wrote Losing It as a show questioning religion, masculinity and world views. When I go on stage, I walk out as a proud Indian. I make fun of my country and take immense pride even in the jokes. I don't care who is left or right in my audience. I don't endorse tribalism and that's what I maintain through my acts."

Deepali Singh (DNA; December 10, 2018)

“It’s cold!” are the first words Vir Das utters when he comes on the line to speak to us. The stand-up comedian, actor and musician, is stationed in Prague to shoot for the American TV show Whiskey Cavalier and it’s minus five degrees there. It might be freezing cold, but Vir is enjoying being the new guy on the sets. He tells us. “I’ve never done a mainstream network American show. It’s an action comedy about four people who are part of a team that saves the world every week. We get to wear suits and fire guns,” he says.

For someone whose phone had stopped ringing after the debacle called Mastizaade in 2016, Vir seems to be juggling a lot of balls in the air. Apart from the TV show, he’s writing and acting in a Hindi web series, and has three films including the sequel of Go Goa Gone. Moreover, his second Netflix special, Losing It, is all set to release tomorrow. “I’m always happiest when I’m over-busy,” he exclaims. “I have worked very hard to be this exhausted in life,” he adds.

Why are you ‘losing it’ and what exactly are you losing?
The show’s about losing who you were as an individual and questioning all of your beliefs in life. It’s about waking up and realising that you don’t believe 90 per cent of the sh*t you used to believe — so re-questioning your perspective, religion, your politics, relationships, friendships, career, masculinity, feminism — all of it. I think it’s a point in life a lot of people can relate to, specially when they enter their 30s. It’s also a show where I, in a certain sense, lost my nationality as well because I took a year off to travel across the globe. I went to 33 different countries to write this show and it’s also about that — your Indian identity in the world today.

So it’s a lot more personal than your earlier show, Abroad Understanding?
I think so. In the first one, I was trying to introduce myself to people and I had to talk about what they wanted to talk about. Now, it’s like a second date and I will say things I want to talk about. So, there are stories about me going bankrupt, falling sick, about being a dishonest child, being a compulsive liar etc.

Do you think now, more than ever, a stand-up comedian is also required to be a social commentator?
No, I think a stand-up comedian is required to be a storyteller. There’s no point going there and making social statements you cannot weave within the quilt of a story, otherwise you’re just making a speech and not doing comedy.

You have also written your first Hindi web series, Hasmukh and you’re acting in it as well...
(Cuts in) Yes, but I should clarify that I have only written the story with Nikkhil Advani. There’s a writer’s room of eight talented writers who have done the screenplay and dialogue. I took the idea of the show to Nikkhil two years ago and he’s directing it. I play Hasmukh, the title character. He’s a serial killer and it’s a nice range for me to go that way — the opposite of who I am.

In movies, you have mostly been the funny guy. Do you want to move away from those kind of roles and try something totally different?
With movies or acting, initially, you’re just trying to get your foot in the door, so you just do what is given to you. I don’t think you get to start experimenting till you have a fan base that is so sizeable that people can’t ignore it. There is an artistic intention to do these things, but it needs business viability.

What’s happening on the music front and your band, Alien Chutney?
It’s been about three or four months since I made any music. The plan is to make another Alien Chutney album by the middle of next year.

Do your roles as an actor, stand-up comedian and musician overlap?
It’s natural to have them all together and the audiences overlap as well. We’ve always been overkeen to compartmentalise. What we are realising is that audiences are looking for variety from the same artiste. The same guy who is going to watch a Rohit Shetty film, will watch a Neerja and the same guy will watch a good series online. So, it’s possible to do different things and entertain viewers through the year.

The actor-comedian to co-produce a black comedy with filmmaker Nikkhil Advani that goes on the floors shortly and features him in the titular role of a serial killer
Natasha Coutinho (MUMBAI MIRROR; January 30, 2018)

Vir Das is set to foray into film production with a dark comedy titled Hasmukh. Co-produced by Nikkhil Advani, the film will feature the actor-comedian in the titular role of a serial killer. “There haven’t been many Hindi films that tackle dark humour. Nikkhil and I had been discussing this idea since the last two-and-a-half years. Now, we are developing the film and it should roll soon,” Vir told Mirror.

He goes on to joke that it will be a detour for him of sorts as his character in the film is struggling with several things. “Maybe I’ll flashback to my first two-three years in comedy, when none of my shows were working, to play the part. We will shoot the film all over India,” Vir informed, adding that he is also working on two other projects, the first of which, a madcap comedy titled Happy Patel Khatarnaak Jasoos, is also being produced by him. “India needs a bumbling spy comedy in the Austin Powers and You Don’t Mess with Zohan zone. I’m also doing another film by the year-end, which is in the Delhi Belly zone. It’s a two-boy story about one night in Gujarat. It’s backed by an A-list production house but I can’t reveal names as yet.”

Vir, who was last seen in Ajay Devgn’s Shivaay in 2016, said he is glad that the audience has become more receptive to offbeat content. “The mindset has changed. People aren’t just looking at actors as stars but as content creators. I really admire (American actor-comedian) Kevin Hart, who is a standup comedian as well as an A-list Hollywood star. That’s because he had a large fan base that was spending money on his shows and he just brought them over to films,” he signs off.

Purvaja Sawant (BOMBAY TIMES; November 17, 2016)

Mohar Basu (MID-DAY; October 29, 2016)

Actor-comedian Vir Das took a hiatus from his rib-tickling characters to essay the role of Davinder Singh, the head of a Sikh family trapped in riot-affected parts of Delhi, in 31st October. Given his latest outing in Milap Zaveri’s upcoming short film, Raakh, the actor appears to be in no mood to return to his comic roles any time soon.

Das’ character, a psychotic husband looking to avenge the death of his wife, is a far cry from the positive turns that he has explored in the past. “That’s precisely why [I chose to play the part]. It is an unpredictable terrain and I am certain that I will scare the sh* t out of people,” he says, adding that when Milap and he were working on the director’s adult-comedy Mastizaade, which released earlier this year, they never imagined that their next collaboration will be set in a parallel universe.

“I had to explore the dark side of my psyche and a chatter box like me was silent for most part of the shoot.
Milap is such a strong writer that he managed to give a gritty thriller emotional depth. I am sure the next step for me will be an out-and-out negative role,” says Das, who is currently hosting a stand- up comedy show in London.

Prod him on whether his different avatars are an effort to change his ‘Mr Funnyguy’ image, and he says, “Different is an overused term but that’s what I am trying to do. No matter where I go in Bollywood, comedy happens. My office will be full of young comics. We will be brainstorming with similar enthusiasm, and mentoring kids. But when it comes to acting, I am certain I want to show a side of me that isn’t expected.” Das, who has come a long way since his first outing in 2007's Namastey London, says that once you become an actor, the industry compels you to take the art seriously. “If you don’t do a certain role there will be fifty others willing to play your part. Lackadaisical is not even an option. You have to be driven.”

Actor Vir Das and author Trisha are siblings living in different worlds, whose love for the movies keeps bringing them back together
Jane Borges (MID-DAY; September 25, 2016)

In the midst of a photo shoot with actor-comedian Vir Das and his sister Trisha at the former's Santacruz (W) office, we hear the self-proclaimed camera-shy siblings engage in amusing banter. "Say something funny Vir… make me laugh," Trisha tells him, in between awkward smiles. "No way!" Vir says. "I only crack jokes if I am paid for it." With no help coming from the little brother, Trisha nudges him in jest, and they both burst out laughing.

When they are done with the shoot, the 37-year-old actor tells us how he "hates being photographed", while Trisha — a National Award-winning documentarian — who has mostly worked behind the lens, reveals how she enjoys clicking and shooting away. "We are poles apart," she says, to drive the point home.

Now, based in Singapore, Delhi girl Trisha is in town to release her new novel Ms Draupadi Kuru, published by HarperCollins India. But, most importantly, this is another excuse to visit the brother, she says. "Vir is a very busy guy. But, he won't spare an opportunity to come visit his nephews and me. So, we end up seeing each other a lot…almost three or four times every year," says Trisha, who moved to Singapore 12 years ago.

It's a significant year for the creatively tuned sibling duo. The release of Trisha's book comes close on the heels of Vir's film release, 31st October — based on a true story set in the aftermath of Indira Gandhi's assassination — where he will be seen playing a serious character for the first time. The credit for his movie career, he says, goes to his sister.

"She's the first one in the family to show professional artistic inclination, and that's something that definitely inspired all of us," says Vir of Trisha, who started making documentaries in the early 2000s. "The money earned through her documentaries helped send me to drama school as well, and this, in the most literal way possible, enabled me to become an artiste," he adds.

Trisha, sitting right beside him, suddenly reminds him of how she filmed "his hand" for one of her documentaries. "That was the first shoot he ever did," she says. Vir looks at her, slightly embarrassed, recalling the many times he was unwittingly dragged into his sister's films. He enjoyed it nonetheless.

"But, I feel that it's only when Trisha started putting pen to paper that she really found complete creative liberation," he says, speaking of Trisha's transition to books from filmmaking, which saw her previously author The Mahabharata Re-imagined and 'How to Write a Documentary Script'.

Trisha won her first National Award for the documentary Fiddlers On The Thatch (2005), when she was 27. "At that point, I was still studying in the US and did not understand the magnitude of this win," says Vir. "It's only now that I realise what a big deal that was."

Trisha, on the other hand, doesn't "see Vir through the lens of his career". "He's still my little brother. When he came into the comedy scene, what he was doing was very new. So, obviously I was worried for him and tried to help as much as possible," says Trisha, who is older to Vir by three years. She, however, clarifies that she wasn't nervous about the path he had chosen. "I was confident that he'd do well. I was just worried that he wasn't sleeping enough and only eating cereal for lunch and dinner," says Trisha, a mother of two boys. "Yes, that way, she is fiercely protective of me," Vir admits.

Trisha recounts how Vir was always the family rebel. "I didn't go through the rebellious phase, I went through a revolution," Vir corrects his sister. "I gave my parents way more sleepless nights than Trisha could ever do. I failed exams, had bad company, did the opposite of what was good for me and was never academically inclined," says Vir. "I was the good kid," Trisha adds. "And even if I made mischief, I did it discreetly."

Gone past their crazy childhood days, the successful siblings now egg each other to do better. "We even collaborated on a script two years ago, and it will hopefully be produced soon," says Vir. And the brother can't stop harping about Trisha's new fiction, Ms Draupadi Kuru, where the most famous female characters from the Mahabharata — Draupadi, Amba, Kunti and Gandhari — give up the comforts of heaven for a holiday in Delhi's chaos. "I want her to make it into a film. I've been telling her that ever since I read the book," he says. "In fact, I would like to see Trisha direct a film at some point."

Trisha, too, is incredibly proud that her brother is taking up challenging roles with films like 31st October. "I am glad he's exploring newer territories. But, I think he will make a better director… I see that happening for him." "Wait, wait! Let me make the shift from comedy to drama first," Vir tells his sister. "You're getting there," she says, winking at him. He looks smugly. "Okay! Mother."

Vir Das (37), Trisha Das (40)

A comedian and a documentary filmmaker-turned-author give a risible twist to the concept of sibling rivalry
Kunal Guha (MID-DAY; September 25, 2016)

Vir Das introduces his sister Trisha Das as the "older and more talented one" when we meet them at his Santacruz office. The comic, actor and singer-songwriter's praise for his sister refers to her recently-published book Mrs Draupadi Kuru: After the Pandavas, which is a "contemporary novel with a mythological twist". The sociology graduate from Sophia's College has also worked in more documentaries than she can remember and even won a National Award in 2005 for Fiddlers on the Thatch. "It was about a group of children in Kalimpong, hailing from impoverished families, who started a western classical orchestra. They were trained in music by a priest who founded a charitable school called Gandhi Ashram. He would offer the kids a free meal a day, which was enough to draw them to school. The kids performed so well that they got scholarships and even a chance to tour the world," says Trisha, who has also assisted Kabir Khan on several documentaries. "I made a film on the 2002 riots in Gujarat, went to Banda in Madhya Pradesh and shot in 51 degrees with Dalit women from the region and also visited the first village in India to become 100 per cent literate."

While Trisha was always determined to pursue a career in non-fiction cinema, Vir kept his options open. "I have three jobs — films, comedy and music. I can quietly work in all three without getting sucked in either. As a kid, I even wanted to be a naval aviator after I watched Top Gun," he says with his patented smirk.

The brother and sister spent their childhood shuttling between boarding school at The Lawrence School, Sanawar, and Lagos in Nigeria, where their parents lived. "We shared a room until I was 12 and I hated that. I got a separate room on my 13th birthday. It was the best thing to ever happen to me," she says, before Vir interrupts, "Nigeria wasn't a very safe place, so you lived in gated compounds with armed guards. We couldn't really go out much so we ended up spending a lot of time together." A routine Trisha remembers from her childhood is going cycling with Vir. "We played with dolls — he had his action man, I had my Barbie." "I beheaded her Barbie once," says Vir, before she adds with a chuckle, "And I gave his action man a bath." The siblings admit that they were both "terrible in academics" but their initiation into the arts and Indian culture happened early. "When you're living in an NRI colony, your parents try hard to imbibe Indian culture. So Trisha learnt the harmonium, I learnt the tabla," says Vir, before Trisha adds, "My mom also taught Indian culture to expat children."

Following school, Vir felt his active participation in debates justified his choice of picking political science. Following a year in Delhi's Sri Venkateswara College, he moved to the US for university. "I had gone on a heavy scholarship, so when I called the family to inform them that I had changed my major to theatre, I began with, 'You should sit down before I tell you what I have to say'," says Vir, who began by performing at open mics in Chicago. "My friends would constantly warn me, saying, 'You are not funny'," says Vir, who finds himself to be an "observational comic who trusts his own moral compass". "I don't make fun of people who are unwell or the elderly. If a joke is bad, the audience will teach you a lesson which no government or censor board can. That's the worst thing to happen to a comedian."

Vir's most self-assuring gig was also his thesis at drama school at Knox College in Illinois. "It was a show called Brown Men Can't Hump. Usually comedians did two minutes but I debuted with a 90-minutes-long stand-up comedy. When I returned to India, I performed the same show at Delhi's India Habitat Centre, which was frequented by the Capital's elite. Suddenly, there was this kid who was saying the 'F' word and talking about his balls," remember Vir. The show was a success as most hadn't seen anything like it. "I was his stage manager, graphic designer, and have even written some of his material when he was starting out," says Trisha, who admits that she can write, but not perform.

At a time when English stand-up was still emerging in India, Vir played safe in drafting his material. "In the first few years of your career, you write stuff that you think people will like. So you write lots of Bollywood and cricket jokes. You write about your Gujarati uncle and Punjabi chacha. Then, at some point, you start writing what you like. I am drawn to history, so I wrote History of India," he says of his career-defining moment. But breaking into films wasn't easy and Vir's first role was a bite-sized role in Katrina Kaif-starrer Namastey London. "I don't think my character had a name. I played 'prospective groom number 2' and that's how I was credited, much like 'henchman no 5'," says the actor who later starred in films like Badmaash Company, Delhi Belly and Go Goa Gone.

Vir and Trisha have also collaborated on a screenplay for a feature film that they wrote last year, braving several conflicts. "We fought like cats and dogs. I wanted to take the action forward faster and she wanted to delve into the characters," says Vir, before his sister interrupts him, "I was pregnant at that time and I hated everyone. I keep asking him to slow down...he was moving too fast." Vir is also working on his next — a feature on the Sikh riots of 1984, a Netflix comedy special, three other film projects and a music album by the end of the year. That's quite a plateful. "I am happiest when I'm writing. When I don't have anything to write, that is when I write my best," he signs off.

Vir Das comments on actor Kiku’s Sharda’s arrest and lamenting over the lack of slapstick comedy in India
Melissa D’Costa D’Silva (DNA; January 30, 2016)


You tweeted in support of Kiku during his arrest. What’s your take on it?
What’s more upsetting with what happened with Kiku was not the getting upset bit. India is a country of 1.3 billion people. You put a picture of a bumble bee and a flower and 1,000 people will get upset with that too. What scared me was the legality of it. Fine be offended, but how quickly the police backed them and arrested him without any official inquiry. I wish we could be that efficient for domestic abuse or sexual abuse or assault or actual crime. Having said that I do believe that a majority of India understands that comedy is not to be taken seriously. When situations like these happen the only solution is more comedy. You have to keep making fun of the situation. You have to keep making light of the situation, until people understand that this is okay.

So you would not be wary of the acts or material you choose to perform with?
My understanding of the history of India is that it has the Mahabharata and the Ramayana and all the great religions in it. If you come from a place of intelligence, if your context is intelligent, you can pretty much say what you want. Even if your vulgarity is intelligent, you can say it.

Have you considered doing TV?
I don’t really get the time to do television. I am too busy shooting for films and touring for stand-up. Television would be a full six-month commitment. It’s like having a 9-to-5 job. I don’t have time for that right now.

What about the kind of comedy that we have? We have a lot of slapstick comedy...
(Interrupts) No, we don’t have a lot of slapstick comedy. I think Indians misunderstand what slapstick is. Humko kharab laga toh slapstick bol diya. Slapstick matlab Charlie Chaplin. Slapstick matlab Laurel & Hardy. Slapstick matlab The Three Stooges. I wish we had more slapstick in India. That’s tough comedy to actually accomplish. We have over-the-top-comedy but not slapstick. Slapstick is a cool genre of comedy. Humne over-the-top-comedy ko slapstick comedy bol diya. Lekin woh hai nahin. The greatest physical comedian in India is Johnny Lever and that’s amazing comedy, but outside of that, I don’t think we have very good physical comedians.

Do you think the digital space is the future?
I do a podcast where I sit on the pot and read the paper and we get a million views per episode. Digital is a very good supplement to the other things you are doing, but it’s not a living. There are YouTube stars with two-three million subscribers, who don’t have very large incomes and you have to do other things like live gigs. At the end of the day, comedy is going to boil down to two things: either you do films, television or live gigs. That’s how a comedian makes money. Whether in films or in any other industry the largest chunk of income comes from live acts. That’s where the real money is. Film stars make more money doing live performances than they do from actual films on an annual calendar.

So, digital space can’t take up a chunk of your life. You have got to have money coming from elsewhere. I think the digital space is a good tool to get other people to notice you, to market yourself so that people will buy your tickets or watch your films, but it can’t be the only thing you do.

Who would you like to play in a biopic?
Mehmood, it would be my dream role. I do a comedy festival and we paid a tribute to him in the first year. And his whole family came and spoke about him. Within 30 seconds, 3,000 people were crying after laughing for two hours. It was beautiful. Everybody from his family to Ameen Sayani spoke about him. We do this festival every year where comedy comes together and gives comedy an award. The first year was Mehmood because you have to begin with him. Followed by Johnny Lever.

Sunny Leone on ‘uncomfortable’ scenes in her next as co-star Vir Das and director Milap Zaveri join the chat on all things fun and awkward
MID-DAY (January 21, 2016)

Massive support has poured in for you from various quarters following a sexist, demeaning interview with a TV journalist…
Sunny: I have been doing interviews for about 15 years. There have been not too many uncomfortable experiences. It’s rare that I get extremely uncomfortable. Over the years, I have trained myself to get out of tricky situations. When you first enter the entertainment industry, you don’t know how to talk, stand or do anything, but now, I am trained. You learn from your mistakes. I call it a process of refinement.

What are the mistakes that you used to make and avoid repeating now?
Sunny: I try not to say umm (laughs). When I hear radio shows or watch TV, I find people using umm and uhh frequently.

Vir, what was the most uncomfortable part of working in Mastizaade?
Vir: Running naked on Worli Sea-Face for one of the scenes at 4.30 pm. My character gets thrown out of the house naked. He runs onto the road and nuns, hawkers and a bunch of people show up. That’s something I don’t want to do again. It was terrifying. People who looked at me were also terrified.

Sunny, any of Milap’s lines that you were umcomfortable saying in front of the camera?
Milap: I think the entire script!
Vir: The second half.
Sunny: Mine was more in the first half. I have two uncomfortable scenes. I cringed before doing it and also thinking that I did it and after watching it on the monitor. I was like, ‘Oh, my gosh. What am I doing?’ (laughs). But, it was part of the character, something that I had said yes to long ago.

Will you tell us one of those awkward lines?
Sunny: Well, no, because I am still embarrassed (laughs).

Given the content of the film, were you skeptical about Censor Board’s reaction?
Vir: I think Milap knew that some things would be cut so we had shot 150 per cent so we could retain 100 per cent in the film. The (certification) process took a while, but they have been kind to us. Luckily, our plot is intact.
Sunny: Yes, adult comedies do have plots (laughs).

The Censor Board has been receiving flak for playing prude. What’s your view on the way it deals with films?
Vir: The good thing is that they are forming a panel to revise the way a film is approached. The role of the board should be to dictate who will see a film and not what should be shown in a film.

Sunny, what do you like and dislike about the industry?
Sunny: The thing that I like is the interest level that filmmakers have shown to work with me. It was unexpected and not something that I thought when I lived in USA. I have found acceptance in India. It shows that people are willing to bring me into their homes on their TV screens, or buy the tickets of my films. What I don’t like is when I came to India, I found it hard to adjust to how business is done here. Everyone is so emotional here. In the US, you are told this is what you are going to do and this is what you will get. But here, it is different in terms of business offers, payments and dates.
Milap: For example, if you are friends with a producer, you will be expected to do his/her film. It is more emotional.

Are you comfortable speaking Hindi?
Sunny: Yes, but it depends who is sitting across the table. If I feel uncomfortable then I switch back to English. But if someone talks to me nicely, I can go on talking in Hindi without issues.

In an earlier interview with us, you had mentioned that you are worried about being stuck in the same image due to your past. But, given the kind of films you are associating with, how do you plan to change your image?
Sunny: It is not going to happen overnight; it won’t happen after one sees the trailer of Mastizaade. But I do believe that when my next three films come out, things will change. Over the years, it (image) has changed.

Vir, in your case, you seem to be doing only comedies. Do you think you have been bracketed?
Vir: By the end of 2014, I actually thought of doing things I am not known for. So I signed Mastizaade, which is an adult comedy, a first for me. My next is a drama, followed by an actioner and a family film.

Milap, many people attack you on social media. Does that affect your confidence?
Milap: I have seen success and failure. There was a phase when nothing right was happening for me. Then a few films came my way as a writer. But, many people say that I do the same kind of writing. Many have criticised that I write only commercial films. Everyone likes good reviews, but I have learnt that people, who put in money, should make money. If a film fails and one household might have to go without food, or someone who might not find work after that, I feel responsible. So, it is my priority to try and ensure that the film is a box office success. When one of my films flopped, I wept in my car like a child and the producer was trying to console me.
Vir: Yes, Milap cries a lot ( laughs).

Debarati Sen (BOMBAY TIMES; July 21, 2014)

Aanchal Tuli & Kashika Saxena (BOMBAY TIMES; April 21, 2014)

Kangana Ranaut and Vir Das on their outrageous characters in Revolver Rani, the ephemeral love of the audience and the tussle between critical acclaim and mass popularity. Excerpts:

Queen attracted a lot of family audiences and made you a household name. Are you worried that that crowd is going to go for Revolver Rani and come out quite surprised? 
Kangana: I am. It feels nice to be in a place where you have nothing to lose and you can just keep saying yes to films. After Queen, it’s been overwhelming, how people would call me from the theatre and say, ‘This theatre is full of people over 60. We can only see grey hair or no hair. And they’re laughing, cheering, crying.’It was overwhelming how these people connected with me. With Revolver Rani, I didn’t think like that. It’s an outrageous film, and you can’t relate to this character. It’s a completely dark character, and the film is darker than that. But I think they might just like this too.

You had also said that no one is going to marry you after they watch Revolver Rani? Do you really feel that way?
Kangana: See, I myself am not very keen on getting married and that’s why I do characters like these (laughs), and also, I was asked if I would like to get married at the Taj Mahal and that’s where this came from. But I do believe that our country is not as evolved as the audience in the West. There is a lot of vyakti pooja in this country. And they really think you’re that character. After Queen, girls used to come and hug me, and I was like, ‘No, you can’t touch me like that’, and they would be like, ‘No, but we love you’, and I was like so what! So, you can’t be like Anthony Hopkins and play a baby meat eater and still be loved for that, for doing those courageous roles or like Nicholas Cage, be a real baddie and be loved. I do understand that and I really don’t care. It’s all right.

A lot of actors use the words warmth and love. There’s this perception that the people who come to see them in droves actually love them. But then, when Yuvraj Singh comes back from surgery, the world loves him. And then he can’t score in a match and people throw stones at his house. Actors tend to use the word love, when sometimes people are just the flavour of the season. Actors don’t owe it to their fans, that just because they love me I should do it. Fans outgrow you in two days.
Kangana: It’s very hard to come to terms with that. I never felt like this before Queen, but once in a while such films come, when people connect to the actor on a higher level, and that is overwhelming. And that is, in a way, a spiritual sort of experience. You can get addicted to that experience. For it to slowly dissolve is one thing, but for you to lose it, that’s a difficult thing to deal with. As opposed to when everyone just says bad things about you, so then you also make these cool statements and be the b***h. It’s easier to be like that, as opposed to when you’re loved.

Is love opposed to critical acclaim? The National Awards list came out recently, and the five movies that made the least money in the whole year were all there. If tomorrow you get a film offer from those directors, they are unlikely to get you too much love because no one sees those films. So, public acclaim versus critical appreciation? 
Vir: I learnt something very cool from Aamir (Khan) once. He said that it’s more important for your fans to trust you than to flatter you. It’s about a relationship of credibility with the audience, that’s the only thing that leads to longevity. You know an Aamir film comes once a year. You are going to go see that film because there is a trust. You may not want to know what he’s wearing, where he lives, but you’re going to go see the film because of his immense credibility. Actors like Rajkummar (Rao), films like Shahid or Ship Of Theseus — I think credibility has more longevity than flattery. Queen is one of those films that got both.
 
Will you sign a movie like Ship Of Theseus, Kangana, which might not run for too long?
Kangana: Yes. This is how I see it. Everyone values that human being who is more concerned about others than his own personal goals. That person is more valuable to everyone.I think few makers go beyond just entertainment and pleasing people by sensual pleasures. Films like Ship Of Theseus are so great and one must watch them. I know no one would like to sit through them again and again but they must be watched. Cinema should have that sort of responsibility. If these people aren’t thinking about money and commercials, how difficult it must have been for them.They should be respected and felicitated. If tomorrow I get such an opportunity, and I am in my senses, I should definitely be doing such work. As individuals, there are things that we do as our personal goals, but if one can go beyond that, it’s a nice thing to do. I have done Revolver Rani. I mean, that’s such an act of selflessness (laughs). I mean,who could have done Revolver Rani? Kabir (the director) was going crazy. Every actress who was hearing the script was like, ‘What?!’ So, they finally decided that they should take Irrfan Khan, make him a woman and then make this film.
Vir: No chance I would have done the film then. I am a good actor but I am not that good an actor.
Kangana: Tishu sir (Tigmanshu Dhulia) knew me, so he said, ‘Let me talk to Kangana’. Kabir said, ‘Why are you bothering’. When I heard this narration with my sister and came out, her face was pale, because she knew I was going to do it. She told me, ‘You are not doing it’. I said I will. She said, ‘How will you play a chaalis saal ki baanjh who has a toyboy and who throws money to sleep around? You can’t do this!’ I was like, yes!

Vir, you play a toyboy in the film, so how was that experience?
Vir: The first time I heard this script, I instantly looked at Kabir, and said, ‘I am not your guy. I am wrong for this, please, why me’. My character is this alpha male, always had his way with women, morally vacant, used people and left them, doesn’t take his eyes of the ball, power, fame, success, money, willing to sleep with anybody, kill anybody, be violent, abuse anybody to get what he wants. My reference for him was a Roadies contestant. You know those Roadies candidates, ‘Main kar ke dikhaunga, kuch bhi’, they have that. I think, in my head, he’s a cross between a Roadies contestant and a victim of 80s Bollywood. He’s very like, ‘Main kar ke dikhaunga and baba ka sandwich kahan hai?’ He’s that guy where if you had a conversation with him, in under two minutes, the muscle he worked up that day would be part of the conversation. If a girl sent him an SMS, he would show it to six other testosterone-filled boys. The strange thing with him is that he is very filmi and is very wannabe and he overacts. I am acting like somebody who is overacting. The dichotomy here was, and I was telling Kabir also, how do I play a bad actor without acting badly? How do you overact without overacting? How do you play filmi without being filmi yourself?

In the promos, there are so many scenes where Kangana or someone else is directly talking about your masculinity or the lack of it. Did that bother you?
Vir: It bothered the hell out of me, but it helped with the role. This character has a certain arch and a certain frustration that explodes, and Kabir shot it in a way where I genuinely felt that way to get into the character. It was one of those films where I put too much pressure on myself because I was with these amazing actors. So, I felt as genuinely frustrated as I could feel so that it could help with the film.

When you’re acting as a team, how important is it that you personally like your co-star? Like, if you look at his face and you hate him, can you still do the scene together?
Kangana: That’s how it’s been for me, most of the times, but not with him (laughs). But that’s all right. It shouldn’t change anything. For me, somehow, I really do envy the older actors who say, ‘We used to have a party on the sets. There were no vanities, no phones,a nd we used to share books and meals and have picnics under the trees and all of that. That’s not how it is. These days, people don’t talk to each other and it’s just like who will say hi first. No one talks to each other, especially me. And that’s also because I do these very intense characters where I can’t afford to be exercising my sense of humour. So, I have to stick to business. But I don’t know about him. He must be one of those jolly, happy-go-lucky kinds.
Vir: Ya. This film was tough because everybody in this film is so gritty; even the caterer is gritty in this film. I showed up with my guitar, you know, happy and enthu. But like I said, this is a different university of cinema where you know not to be boisterous, and to give actors their space is something that I’ve also learned on this film.

There are so many crazy accessories in Revolver Rani, Kangana, if you get a chance to take back something from the sets, what will you take?
Kangana: Honestly, her style is not something that I aspire for because everything she wears is so crazy — those vintage shades or those metallic bras.
Vir: I’ve taken those.
Kangana: What?
Vir: The metallic bras.
Kangana: (laughs) Now those are gone too. I think I’ll take the combat boots, those were really cool.