Stand-up comic Zakir Khan at Express Adda: ‘My career isn’t about what I have done; it’s about what I dodged in life’

Your dialect carries the vibe of your region. My Hindi has a Malwa touch. When people speak in Lucknow, you can hear the Awadhi influence. All these flavours mix together to create the language. I’ve been lucky to have travelled a lot as a child, which helped me understand this diversity early on.

Then, English becomes important too. Everyone should know it. Ideally, everyone should know every language. This is my personal belief that every pronunciation is correct unless it’s intentionally wrong. There’s classism even within language. There’s hegemony. People say, “Oh, they spoke like this, not like that.” Language carries so much—where you grew up, what school you went to, your background, your neighbourhood. All of that shapes how you speak. If someone learned a word by reading instead of hearing it, they might pronounce it differently. That doesn’t mean they’re wrong. The same applies to Hindi.

When I started doing comedy, many people felt this art form came from outside India and therefore had to be in English. But I felt strongly that Hindi would connect more deeply with people here. The first three or four years were tough. Not because anyone was against us but sometimes you share a very personal story and people just don’t connect. That’s not personal failure. It’s generational. It’s a learning process.

The Internet changed everything. At first, a certain elite group felt the internet belonged to them. But as more people joined, everyday language became the norm. That’s when Hindi really found space.

We are living in an anti-elite moment. Wherever people feel excluded, they push back. That door is already cracking.

Zakir Khan with audience at the Express Adda

Anant Goenka: There’s also hierarchy. At home you speak Hindi but at a five-star hotel you switch to English. You subconsciously decide how to speak.

That’s true. There’s a colonial hangover inside us and that’s okay. It’s part of our history. The question is whether we ridicule ourselves or celebrate it blindly. Neither extreme is correct. English has helped us a lot, especially in the workforce. In India, speaking English signals education. From another perspective, if you come from a weaker economic background, language becomes like clothing. Clothes come from money. Language comes from learning. With language, you can show a different background. That opportunity is important.

Devendra Pandey: In your work, especially Papa Yaar, you peel layers off relationships, particularly between fathers and children.

My main focus has always been my personal relationships. Comedy, popularity, money, brands — those are secondary. I have spent a lot of time helping friends with their lives, marriages, family conversations.

I started earning young and learning how the world works. That gave me experience ahead of my peers. My grandfather, Ustad Moinuddin Khan, used to say that good advice shouldn’t be given directly because it hurts. Even poison should be given wrapped in a betel leaf.

There’s a lot of sadness and pain in the world. I can’t fix everything. But I can try to fix what’s close to me. The core of my work is about better personal relationships.

For the last five or six years, I have been thinking deeply about relationships with fathers and grandparents. These stories work because they come from genuine belief. If I don’t truly believe in something, it won’t translate.

Devendra Pandey: During this time, how did your relationships evolve, especially with your father? As you grew older and understood him better, did your perspective change?

Stepping out of the house helps a lot. When you live at home, parents feel like authoritative figures. You focus on what they didn’t do or couldn’t give you. But when you look at their lives, you realise they were carrying struggles from the generation before them. Every parent tries to do better than what they received.

You can’t compare your parents to others because everyone starts from a different place. Our grandfather was a certain way; our father tried to improve upon that. Maybe our classmates’ dads were different but this was our dad. And he was doing his best in his own way. When you live away from home, you start seeing your parents as people — not just parents. Daily friction disappears. You stop fighting over curfews and phone calls. Recently, my father called me just to tell me he met a friend’s dad and liked him. That’s new. Our dads weren’t always ‘gentlemen’. They’ve only recently become cute and expressive. But as they get to know you better, the relationship improves.

We three brothers also consciously make our father feel like a father — like he’s the boss, the king of the house. That structure matters. What’s the point of winning if you don’t know how to lose sometimes?

Anant Goenka: Your comedy comes from everyday life and friendships, which makes it relatable. But you once challenged the establishment. Now you’re part of it. Does that worry you?

That’s how history works. Every ruler was once a rebel. It’s a cycle.

Anant Goenka: Do you worry about losing touch now, with money, fame, famous friends?

Of course, there’s insecurity. Insecurity doesn’t have a season. That’s why I dress well now, thanks to my stylist. But I pay close attention to people who come from generational wealth. They have a handbook we don’t. No matter how high we build, our foundation is weak. I was supposed to be a school music teacher. I never got the training to handle success. It takes generations to learn ‘class’ —what to do, what not to do.

We live with constant anxiety because we don’t have backup. We belong to the ‘not-so-cool’ crowd. We were never allowed mistakes. Cool people can mess up a hundred times; we mess up once and we’re out.

Twenty years later, people will understand that my career isn’t about what I have done; it’s about what I have not done and dodged. It’s a minefield out there. One wrong step and you’re sidelined. That insecurity stays. But when it comes to my work, I feel secure. My community is small and loyal. What I say on stage, in podcasts, interviews, it’s all the same. No act.

I always imagine a 17-year-old listening to me — someone without their own room, believing, ‘If Zakir bhai said it, it must be right.’ That responsibility guides me.  If money comes, I’m grateful. If it doesn’t, I’m still grateful. Life is a journey — sometimes five-star, sometimes roadside dhaba. The question is: am I becoming a better artiste and human being?

Devendra Pandey: How much self-censorship do you employ, knowing young people follow you?

Everyone should self-censor. ‘Say whatever comes to mind’ is overrated. There’s a gap between thought and speech that one must process.

Every culture has its own sensitivities and they change with time. We’re not America or the UK. Saying one culture is better than another is nonsense. Culture is like family — poha is made differently in different homes.

Devendra Pandey: Javed Akhtar once said modern comedy relies too much on abuse for shock value. Your thoughts?

I respect him immensely. But context matters. When language had elitist control, breaking that structure came with roughness. Every revolution brings mud with the water.

As artists grow, they refine themselves. We did too. If you want a wider reach, you give up some things. That’s natural. Society moves four steps forward, three steps back.

Devendra Pandey: Did you ever feel, ‘I’ve made it’… from hunger to Range Rovers?

I’m not a Hindi film hero. I’m proud of what I am — my parents, upbringing, language. You must believe you’re the best; otherwise, why would anyone else? We always believed success would come — maybe late, but it would. We stayed disciplined when money arrived.

I’m a musician first. I’ve played sitar for 19 years. My dreams came from watching ustads perform at the Royal Albert Hall. Comedy just happened.

Even now, there’s an imposter syndrome. I’m just talking — everyone can talk. In music, I practised nine–12 hours daily. Here, people come just to listen to words. It humbles you. You accept it with grace.

Anant Goenka: There’s strong camaraderie among comedians, not rivalry.

Because we had no patrons, no nawabs or royal backing. It was the world versus us. So we stood together. There was no handbook. We made the path ourselves. Yes, competition exists. But what we’re fighting for is bigger than us. That creates unity.

Devendra Pandey: Your shows take massive preparation.

I’m at home on stage. I grew up there, slept there. After 100 shows, a performance becomes automatic. Then the magic happens. And that moment — aamad —is like magic. Our grandfather used to say, ‘what you do isn’t really yours.’ It’s all about timing and opportunity. It’s God who blesses you at that moment. Often, we don’t even know what we’re going to say. But then, somehow, an extra line just slips in and it turns into something else. So you just wait for the right moment to come. The hard work you put in isn’t to make your work perfect. You work hard so that when God gives you the chance, you’re ready to handle it.

Devendra Pandey: Has it ever happened that you have recorded something but regreted it later?

It’s been a long journey, and stuff like that happens a lot. It’s like having a bad day at work — some things you think will work, but they just don’t. But mistakes happen only to those who work. Without working, how can there be mistakes? We were recording Tathastu. The set we made turned out wrong. The pillar fell. The design of the set was such that people couldn’t see anything. We were trying something different. It got messed up. There are many things like this. But whatever I did, it felt right at that moment.

Devendra Pandey: Why are there no sofas on your shows?

Everyone is a VIP. If you love my work, sit anywhere. Why bring hierarchy into comedy? Respect people equally. Those who bought tickets first shouldn’t feel like second-class citizens. If you love me and really want to listen to me, just sit anywhere. What difference does it make? I want to see whoever comes to watch my show as a citizen.

Anant Goenka: Hierarchy is deeply rooted in the Indian culture and it comes up in your work often. But you don’t see it abroad. Do you see it changing in India?

No. It’s cultural like eating with hands. Respect for elders, gurus; that won’t change. And it’s not wrong. The knowledge and experience they have gathered over the years; that is what they are passing on to you. But respecting adults is one thing, and hierarchy is different. Hierarchy shouldn’t decide what I deserve. Respect is fine; domination isn’t. I decide which doors are closed. I’ll knock, break and open them myself. That’s my journey.  If I had settled,

I’d be a music teacher in Indore. The right to demand better is between me and my God. No one else gets to decide that.

Devendra Pandey: Where did this conviction come from?

From my father and grandfather. They always told me I was meant for greatness, and to behave like it. That’s why success never made me lose balance. We weren’t rich but we travelled. Not in luxury but in buses, general compartments. We learned life early. That grounding built belief.

(From left) Anant Goenka, Executive Director, The Indian Express Group, Devendra Pandey, Deputy Associate Editor, The Indian Express, and Zakir Khan in Mumbai

Rapid Fire with Anant Goenka

How many flights have you missed this year?

On the US trip, I missed around 14.

What is it about Indore and its people that makes it the cleanest city?

It’s got a bit of that competitive spirit, which we (Mumbai) kind of lack.

Why isn’t Mumbai a clean city?

Its design and geography make it a bit difficult. The huge influx of people makes it even harder.

The last romantic encounter you used as material in your show.

I don’t use my personal life.

The one life lesson you have learned from your time in Indore.

There was a mechanic, Lala bhai, in our college. He told us, “When a person becomes well known, they should slow down.” I keep that in mind.

The one life lesson you learnt from your time in Delhi.

Having no hope is the worst thing.

One takeaway you hope your audiences take from the following shows:

Tathastu:

What the love of grandparents feels like. The happiness we get from them is really special.

Chacha Vidhayak Hain Humare Fake it till you make it.

Mannpasand:

That friendship is great for your mental health.

Unpack the popularity of the following contemporaries:

Kunal Kamra: Rebellious

Tanmay Bhat: Visionary

Vir Das: A pioneer

Samay Raina: Audacious

Anubhav Singh Bassi: One of my favourite storytellers

One thing that’s changed in Indian society when it comes to adult relationships.

Everyone has their positions — some orthodox, some liberal. They oscillate  between them. No one has a permanent stance. In life, no matter what you believe, when it comes to relationships, it’s just a man and a woman  deciding what works for them. Falling in love these days is like passing a serious test.

One thing that has changed with parents.

Parents nowadays are a bit softer. We grew up getting our butts kicked.

One thing that has changed and hasn’t changed with Indian bosses.

One thing that’s changed… there’s a lot of pressure on them to show off. One thing that hasn’t changed is randomly asking questions from applicants.

One thing that has changed and that hasn’t changed with Indians’ relationship with money.

If you’ve got cash in your pocket, you’ve got respect. People feel a certain way about GPay and all but honestly, online transfers just don’t have the same feel as getting bills in your hand.

Audience Questions

Nishan Tiwari

Nishan Tiwari
Senior Consultant, Wipro

How conscious are you when you assess your own success? Do you think luck is a factor?

So there are two parts to this —one is what we have earned, and the other is what we’ve received. Sometimes we feel like we haven’t really used up everything we got. It’s really something to be grateful for when people love you, when they care about you. The more they do, the more it affects you.

Sai Ghare

Sai Ghare
Partner, MK Ghare Jewellers

You always set high goals for yourself. So, what do you plan to achieve in the next five years?

Honestly, I want to do it all. Imagine there’s a mountain peak. You reach the top, clouds roll in, and then you realise there’s another mountain to climb. If I didn’t think like that, I wouldn’t be able to survive. Now, I want to make a movie and I’ll do the best I can.

Anjali Bansal

Anjali Bansal
Investor and Board Member, Avaana Capital

For our young people across different places in the US, what advice do you have?

I feel once you go abroad, it’s not easy to come back. Once you step out, only a lucky few get to return. It’s a big deal and a real trap. Once you’re in, it’s hard to come back. What I want to say is, for those studying abroad, remember that generations of hardwork has gone into sending you there. Your parents worked really hard for this. No matter how comfortable life may seem there, never forget that someone at home is waiting for you. Stay in touch with them.

Bandhav Desai

Bandhav Desai
Business consultant, Marine Solutions

You perform for all kinds of audiences across the world. Does it matter to you if they are foreigners or locals?

I perform mainly for the Indian diaspora. And the audience is basically a reflection of the artiste. The same people will buy tickets for Honey Singh or Jagjit Singh but they will behave differently there. My wish is no matter how big the room I perform in is, I just want to turn it into a living room. That’s my flex. Even if I’m performing in a stadium, it should feel like you’re just chilling on the couch with me.

Gargi Chavan

Gargi Chavan
Student

You were in the music industry before. How did you get interested in comedy?

I was lucky to be born into a musicians’ family. During my school days, I happened to get my hands on some joke books. I learned all the jokes and started applying them with my friends. That’s when I realised that being the funny guy in the school had its perks and I understood the power of being funny. I guess that’s where my interest began, and over the years, it slowly grew.

Sourabh Das

Sourabh Das,
Social Media Lead, The Indian Express

Anyone who wants to be a comedian should do open mics. This is a skill that comes with practice. You’ve got to do it to get better. You gotta go on stage. For pretty much every other art form, you can practise at home. But comedy is the only art where you have to get up on stage and perform. That’s where you practise too. So, spend less time overthinking and more time doing it.