'My Emmy award is in Godrej cabinet wrapped in thermals': Controversial comedian Vir Das comes clean on The Hustle podcast

Dubai: In the latest episode of Gulf News’ video podcast The Hustle, Emmy-winning comedian and actor Vir Das shows up exactly as expected — in sunglasses indoors, armed with razor-sharp wit, and unapologetically self-aware.

Dubbed by The New York Times as one of “the most beloved voices in comedy,” Das is no stranger to polarising audiences.

His now-famous monologue Two Indias split viewers down the middle, earned him global attention, death threats, and an International Emmy Award. Yet sitting across from him at the Emirates Airline Festival Of Literature in Dubai last weekend, the man behind the headlines insists none of it truly defines him. For those wondering, he was at the fest to talk about his gloriously witty and self-deprecating book, The Outsider: A Memoir for Misfits and it delivers exactly what it promises.

“Your talent belongs to you. Your reputation belongs to other people,” Das told host Manjusha Radhakrishnan.

“You’ll never be in charge of it. Some days they love you. Some days they want to cancel you. Then they want selfies again. Trying to control that will drive you insane.”

A self-proclaimed misfit

Das calls himself a “misfit who made it” — someone who never quite belonged in any one box: not Bollywood hero material, not a conventional stand-up comic, and certainly not a safe, agreeable public figure.

“I function best when I’m very far away from success,” he admits. “There’s nothing more exciting than being at the bottom of a ladder.”

Despite an Emmy win and sold-out international shows, he remains drawn to discomfort. After conquering stand-up stages across the world, he has now stepped into filmmaking, co-writing and co-directing his first feature film -- a small, absurd comedy that quietly surprised everyone by surviving at the box office alongside massive Bollywood releases.

“Nobody ever expected I could pull people into theatres,” he says. “And yet, here we are in our second weekend.”

For Das, learning matters more than winning. Working closely with Aamir Khan’s production team, he calls the experience “the best film school in the world”.

“You can’t pay for this kind of education,” he says. “Whether I make another movie or not, I’ve already gained something priceless.”

Why awards don’t impress him

Asked how the Emmy changed his life, Das laughs.

“It’s in a Godrej cupboard wrapped in thermals,” he says.

“If I went on stage with an Emmy, I’d have the worst show of my life.”

Stand-up comedy, he explains, is built on relatability — not aspiration.

“You make such an idiot of yourself that the audience feels better about their own lives. Movies are about putting someone on a pedestal. Stand-up is about stepping off it.”

Self-deprecation, he believes, is the only honest contract with an audience. “You have to make fun of yourself more than the audience. Otherwise, you’re just talking at them.”

Cancel culture and survival

Das’s Two Indias monologue remains one of the most defining moments of his career — praised internationally and condemned at home. It led to police complaints, social media outrage and threats.

Rather than fight it, he learned to surrender.

“Whatever the label is, it lives in someone else’s mouth, not on your body,” he says. “You can’t own it.”

For him, polarisation is not failure — it is proof of relevance.

“Love me or hate me, just don’t ignore me,” he says.

Gen Z, mental health and hustle

While hustle culture is often romanticised, Das believes Gen Z has rewritten the rules.

“For our generation, the big battles were racism and sexuality. For Gen Z, it’s mental health,” he says.

“They have no stigma about therapy or anxiety. That’s their rebellion.”

Instead of mocking younger audiences, he admires them — and admits they now form a large part of his ticket-buying base.

“I’m reluctant to take a dump on Gen Z,” he jokes. “They pay for my shows.”

Where he truly belongs

Despite bullying at boarding school and years of feeling like an outsider, Das knows exactly where he fits in.

“Put me on a stage and I belong. Zero fear. That’s home,” he says. “Since I was four years old.”

Dubai audiences, he adds with affectionate criticism, are among the warmest — though notoriously late.

“You have great roads, no traffic, public transport… what’s your excuse?” he laughs.

What’s next

Das shows no signs of slowing down. On his wish list: Broadway, another film, and an edgy Indian sitcom that doesn’t take itself too seriously.

“We’re still a young country. We take ourselves very seriously,” he says. “Maybe in our 40s as a nation, once things are sorted — education, equality, safety — then we can finally relax and have some fun.”

Until then, he’s happy stirring the pot.

Because for Vir Das, the job of a comedian isn’t comfort — it’s conversation.

“Everything I do should entertain and polarise,” he says. “Otherwise, I haven’t done my job.”