Rajkummar Rao on going rogue and hyper-violent in Maalik: ‘I’m not here to play it safe’

Dubai: “I can’t just keep doing the same thing that you expect out of me as an actor, then there won’t be any growth for me,” says Bollywood Rajkummar Rao in an interview with Gulf News —and just like that, he drops the mic on safe choices and plays it like a boss.

If you thought he was going to spend the rest of his career being Bollywood’s poster boy for vulnerability (Queen, Trapped, Bareilly Ki Barfi)—think again. In Maalik, Rajkummar storms onto the screen as a hyper-masculine, power-thirsty menace, flipping his sweet-and-sensitive image on its head.

So, has he sold out or levelled up? Let’s get into it.

The glow-up you didn’t see coming

Rajkummar isn’t just switching lanes; he’s bulldozing the entire road. His decision to channel a cold-blooded, chest-thumping alpha in Maalik isn’t just bold—it’s borderline rebellious. It’s a slap to the idea that actors should stay in their comfort zones and spoon-feed audiences what they expect.

“I want to give you new experiences,” he says, with the same quiet intensity that made you fall in love with his past roles—only this time, the gloves are off.

This isn’t your typical "oh-look-he's-playing-a-baddie-now" rebrand. Rajkummar is shattering his own archetype and rebuilding it from scratch—with muscle, menace, and unapologetic ambition. Typecast who?

Power, violence, and some seriously dark mojo

Maalik doesn’t flirt with grit—it deep-dives into it.

Rajkummar’s character is no misunderstood anti-hero; Maalik is a man who has tasted power and is drunk on it. The violence isn’t just for flair—it’s part of a larger, bloodier ballet of ambition.

“Power is way more dangerous and maybe more scrumptious than blood,” he quips. Simply put, he’s not here to look pretty; he’s here to make you uncomfortable because Maalik isn't cardboard-cutout villain. He’s layered, broken, and disturbingly magnetic.

It’s not about justifying the violence; it’s about understanding what pushes a man to the edge. And then watching him jump.

From method to madness (and muscle)

Gone is the lean, lanky frame of Shahid. In Maalik, Rajkummar is bulked-up, booted-up, and brimming with brute force. “I beefed up a lot for this film because I wanted to feel very strong,” he admits. But don’t mistake the muscle for vanity. This was a mindset shift. A new gait, a new glare, a new gear.

He didn’t just memorise lines—he weapon-trained, immersed in dark music, and channeled enough rage to power a small city. It's character embodiment on beast mode, and Rajkummar clearly didn’t come to play.

Therapy? Try patralekha and meditation

Sure, playing a violent maniac might rattle the average actor, but Rajkummar doesn’t do emotional chaos. While Nicole Kidman smashes plates post-scene, Rajkummar jokes that his therapy comes courtesy of his long-time partner Patralekha—and a hefty dose of meditation. “You tend to carry some part of it… subconsciously,” he confesses. But instead of spiraling, he centers.

It’s this grounded, almost Zen-like quality that makes his transformation into Malik all the more terrifying. He knows where to park the rage—and when to unleash it.

The state of bollywood? messy. deliciously so.

Post-pandemic Bollywood is one big roulette table, and Rajkummar’s not afraid to place high-stake bets. “Exciting times are there,” he shrugs, acknowledging the wild swings in audience taste. Big-budget blockbusters are bombing, scrappy indies are soaring, and Rajkummar? He’s thriving in the chaos. “People have started going back to theatres,” he points out—proof that audiences are hungry for stories that punch them in the gut.

And he’s serving.

Still human, even when covered in blood

Yes, Malik is violent. Yes, he’s unhinged. But Rajkummar insists his characters will always have a beating heart. “When you tell a human story, you connect,” he says. That’s his north star. No matter how many guns he carries or bones he breaks, Rajkummar digs for the soul beneath the savagery.

Malik isn’t a monster—he’s a man twisted by power, circumstance, and rage. And that’s what makes him terrifyingly real.

Audience over applause

When asked if he craves box-office success or critical love, Rajkummar doesn’t flinch: “It’s the audience that matters the most.” Period. He knows the critics will chatter, the reviews will come and go, but if the people feel it? That’s the win.

So, if you’re still waiting for him to go back to playing boyfriends who cry in the rain—don’t hold your breath. He’s busy torching the playbook and writing a new one in all caps.

Maalik is messy, monstrous, and magnetic—and so is Rajkummar’s new era. So buckle up. He’s not your indie darling anymore. He’s the storm.