Vir Das On Doing Things Scared

Contrary to his name and general public perception, Vir Das (pronounced VEEr DAHs) is not completely devoid of fear.

You would be forgiven for making the assumption, considering the sheer laundry list of people his new show Sounds of India takes shots at.

Das, whose first name means “brave,” in his native tongue Hindi, describes it as “a show that was unapologetically about us and not just about me”, and the almost two hours encompasses a plethora of experiences from around the country.

Sounds of India has been several years in the making, with concepts he developed even before facing police complaints in 2021 for his now infamous “Two Indias” monologue.

The six-minute performance at the Kennedy Center, which spoke about contradictions he’d observed within India, triggered multiple police complaints filed by politicians including members of the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party. Das was called a terrorist and faced seven charges in India for allegedly defaming the country on foreign soil.

The backlash became international news, covered by outlets from CNN to The Washington Post, transforming Das from Emmy nominee to public enemy overnight —at least in certain circles.

And yet, Sounds of India pulls very few punches.

Doing It Scared

Backstage after the first of three sold-out Bangalore shows, I ask him why, in this bleak environment for Indian comedy and comedy in general, he chose this moment to finally come out with this show.

“In retrospect, the controversy is ten days really, and the public moves on very, very quickly,” he says, nursing a mug of chamomile tea, which he insists is not fancy, just necessary to prevent losing his voice (this has happened before, so I believe him).

“The paperwork of a controversy takes a while to clean up though,” he continues. Once he was free of that, it was straight on to the next thing.

“The process is the punishment, right?”

I half-expected the death threats, rape threats, and general fallout from the controversy to have mellowed out his material, I tell him. Is he not afraid?

“I’m scared before every show, even tonight,” is the immediate reply. “I have a base level of fear that I think keeps me going. Fear is directly proportional to my ambition, and I think I love that also.”

“So I don’t think I want to lose fear.”

Fear has been a common thread in Das’ conversations recently. In a September interview with Variety’s Naman Ramachandran, he said he was going to spend the next many months doing things that made him scared.

Since then, he’s kept that promise and more.

There’s Sounds of India, which he’s touring internationally with sold-out shows. Then there’s Hey Stranger at the Lincoln Center Theater — a completely different show about spending your life with strangers, which he plans on taking to Broadway. (“I think I have the same producer as Jake Gyllenhaal, which is wild,” he mentions casually.)

Then there’s his memoir, The Outsider: A Memoir for Misfits. “I’m too young to have written a memoir, right?” the Emmy-winner acknowledges with a laugh. “So it’s a book about failure, which is the reason I wrote it.”

And then there’s Happy Patel, his first Hindi film in nine years, which he co-directed with Kavi Shastri and produced with Bollywood veteran Aamir Khan . “It’s a mad spy comedy,” he explains, his excitement palpable. “An action comedy that takes the action as serious as it takes the comedy.”

Each of these projects represents something new for Das, whether it’s technical elements he’s never used before, formats he’s never attempted, or creative control he’s never had.

I have been forbidden under pain of displeasure from divulging any details of Sounds of India — at the end of the show Das publicly asked any journalists in the crowd to not reveal spoilers and “do journalism instead” — but he tells me it’s the first time he’s used a set, the first time he’s incorporated tech and sampling, and it packs more jokes than his average show because it has to cover 60-70 topics in rapid-fire succession.

“That’s terrifying,” he says. “To see if it will work everywhere.”

The Edgy Question

When I bring up the current discourse around “edgy” comedy — comedians who wear their uncancellability as a badge of honor and preemptively refuse to apologize — Das is quick to distance himself from the label.

“I would never call myself edgy,” he says firmly. “I think any comedian that refers to themselves as edgy or uncancellable — you see a lot of this America — I think they’re in trouble as an artist anyway. And those guys are usually the first to fold in my experience.”

He leans forward, making his point clear: “Comics just keep writing jokes and you call us what you feel the freedom to call us. We’re just thinking about the next show. So no, I would not call myself any of those things. It’s not my privilege, it’s yours.”

It’s a fascinating stance from someone who has every reason to lean into the “edgy comedian who won’t back down” narrative. But Das is seemingly uninterested in that kind of posturing.

“I don’t think controversy is adding any currency in art,” he says. “I don’t, because I think it’s a trap. Then you’re constantly going to be chasing that.” He gestures back toward the theater. “But I also don’t think you can predict what will get you into controversy. It’s the thing you never thought.”

Why Comedy Matters Now

Given the current global climate around free speech — the crackdowns, the self-censorship, the increasing pressure on artists to toe certain lines — I ask Das if he feels like he has a shortening window to say what he wants to say.

“I think the tectonic shifts in free speech are global as much as they are local,” he begins. “And I think with each shift, it elongates how much time comedians have. The more you crack down on free speech, the more comedy you’re going to stress into being.”

He brings up the Obama era as an example. “Saturday Night Live sucked [then]. That era is not great for standup.” He acknowledges that comedy now has swung into “very bro-edgy” territory, but also notes it swung from being overly safe and “pantry-like.”

“The more you crack down on free speech, people will crave nuance and people will crave truth,” he continues. “So comedy will always be needed.”

It’s a hopeful take in an increasingly bleak landscape for comedians, particularly in India where multiple comics have faced legal trouble for their material. But Das seems genuinely optimistic, and his optimism is grounded in something tangible.

“Look at the age group of the crowd that came tonight,” he says. “We have all these sold-out shows. They’re so young. They’re not my age. “

He lets that sink in. “To be my age and to have this many people this young come out and see you is a sign of something, that this generation recognizes the need to laugh. That gives me hope.”

There’s more to it than just the desire for entertainment, he argues. “In a world where nobody knows what’s real anymore, anything that makes you feel any sort of truth, whether it’s a song or a movie, will undeniably win.”

Full Circle Moments

Before we wrap up, I share with Das that this interview is something of a full-circle moment for me, and that in a roundabout way, he is a major part of my current journalism role.

I ask if he has similar full-circle moments, times when he returns to places or situations that once seemed impossible or hostile.

“Bangalore,” he says without hesitation.

Right after the monologue fallout, he had had two scheduled shows at Bangalore’s Chowdiah Memorial Hall. They’d sold 2,000 tickets for a 5 PM show, and there were 500 protestors outside the building.

“It was the middle of the storm,” he recalls. “We canceled that show at 3:30 PM.”

He takes a beat, and then smiles at his team member Akash. “And then every time we come back to Bangalore, we’re kind of like, ‘Yeah, okay, now it’s good to be back in this city.’”

“Like, ‘Hey, still here. Still funny.’”