In a short space of time, Indian rapper Hanuman has quickly risen to the top of the country’s booming hip-hop scene. His song “Big Dawgs” not only topped charts around the world, but also briefly surpassed Kendrick Lamar’s diss track “Not Like Us.” The BBC explores the rapper’s meteoric rise to fame.
In the video for big mouth wolf31-year-old Sooraj Cherukat, also known as Hanumankind, exudes endless energy.
Filmed inside the Maut ka Kuan (Well of Death) – a jaw-dropping show where drivers perform gravity-defying stunts inside a giant barrel-like structure – he stomps around the pit as a group of drivers jump from him Speeding by.
The song, produced in collaboration with producer Kalmi Reddy and director Bijoy Shetty, has received over 132 million plays on Spotify and 83 million views on YouTube since its release in July, catapulting Cherukat to fame.
On the surface, Cherukat’s music follows a hip-hop template, telling poignant stories of street life through explicit lyrics and raw prose.
But a closer look reveals that the rapper uses his music to straddle his own unique identity.
Born in the southern Indian state of Kerala, Chelukat spent his childhood around the world – largely because his father worked for a leading oil company – in France, Nigeria, Egypt and Dubai. Pass.
But he spent his formative years in Houston, Texas, where his music career began to take shape.
Unlike America’s famous East-Coast rap rivalry, Houston also has a unique hip-hop culture that stands out in its own right.
In Houston’s hip-hop scene, cough syrup is the drug of choice. Its dizzying effect led to the creation of the “screwed up” remix, in which the track was slowed down to reflect the syrupy influence.
Cherukat has often spoken of his music as a veiled homage to Texas hip-hop legends such as DJ Screw, UGK, Big Bunny and Project Pat, who he grew up listening to.
While their influence on his rapping is obvious, his style evolved further after he returned to India in 2021 after dropping out of college.
He got a business degree and worked at firms like Goldman Sachs before realizing it wasn’t for him. It was then that he decided to pursue rap full-time, which had previously been a hobby.
Like his personal life, Cherukat’s music reflects his efforts to shed his cosmopolitan identity and reconnect with his Indian roots.
His songs often boldly explore the struggles of street life in southern India, blending hard-hitting vocals with catchy beats. At times, tabla beats and synths complement his verses.
“Our country has a problem because the parties are at war,” he quipped in a song called “Genghis Khan,” which was shot in the lanes of Bangalore, where he lives.
In Big Dawgs, Cherukat ditches flashy cars, choosing to focus on small-city stuntmen from poor families who are part of India’s dying art form, offering an alternative to the opulence and extravagance that comes with mainstream rap.
“These guys are real adventurers…These guys are real big dogs,” he told Complex website.
But while the combative energy in his music managed to attract attention, he also had his share of critics.
Some believe his songs have less impact on Indian audiences. Unlike many of his peers who rap in the vernacular, Cherukat sings in English, which may limit his resonance with non-English speaking audiences.
Others criticized him for being too imitative of Western artists and for taking a tokenistic approach to his Indian identity.
“His songs have made Indians and South Asians important players in the Western rap scene, which is great,” said Abid Haque, a doctoral student in New Jersey.
“But he sounds too much like an American rapper, taken out of context to fit into the Indian scene. While Big Dawgs’ music video relies on Indian aesthetics, the lyrics and music feel disconnected from Indian reality,” he added.
It can be said that Chelukat’s own understanding of his work also reflects this duality.
On the one hand, returning to India was a way for him to find a sense of belonging: “I think it really shaped me into someone who never really had a place to call home… It shaped the way I perceived music. , the people and the culture,” he told Complex.
But he also insisted on seeing himself in a broader perspective: “I’m not an Indian rapper, but I’m a rapper from India,” he said in an earlier interview, explaining that he positioned himself within the context of the country’s booming Developing scenes outside of hip-hop.
The rapper has faced a flood of racist comments online for his unique style. Some international audiences had a hard time accepting that he was from India because he didn’t “look or sound” like what they expected. At the same time, his Indian audience mocked him for the same reason, wanting him to more closely match their image of Indian identity.
But it’s this sense of non-belonging in his work that makes it so beloved by fans.
To them, he is a cross-genre street poet who takes the age-old hip-hop tradition he grew up with and injects it with fresh social commentary.
“He’s not trying to pander to the Indian audience, and that shows in his music, and he’s unapologetic about it,” said Delhi-based psychiatrist Arnab Ghosh, who recently spoke to Big The Dawgs discovered the Hanu humans.
“When I listen to his music, it can come from anywhere in the world. That universality appeals to me.”
Overcoming expectations of what a South Asian rapper can achieve and establishing himself on his own terms may be Chelukat’s biggest triumph — and challenge.
As he once said: “You take certain things as your roots, but you adapt to circumstances and go with the flow, as long as you don’t compromise integrity.”