Hanumankind is a rap storyteller on a quest for freedom

As a crimson light bleeds over the shoulders of his knitted jacket and toned abs, Hanumankind roars at the camera, mane big and grin wild. He stands with such power that you don’t even notice the medical crutch tucked under his arm or hear his winces and the sharp breath he sucks in between shots. He holds it together, powering through because all he knows is to keep going. In the thick of a London heatwave, NME finds the man born Sooraj Cherukat in a stuffy, blacked-out basement studio, mere days after he dislocated his patella on stage during the final gig of his debut UK and European tour.

“Last show of the tour, right? I’m feeling good, feeling great. I’m like, ‘Alright, we’re going to really wild out with everybody,’” Hanumankind recalls, telling us about the ritualistic jumping routine he gets the crowd to do every gig. “I’m trying to lead the way and my knee just popped out of its place.” He insisted that he had to finish the set because he “couldn’t let the folks come down and have a half-assed performance like that”. This resilience and recklessness are what the rapper has hinged his career on, culminating with his most recent release, his debut mixtape ‘Monsoon Season’.

Most of the world met Hanumankind last summer after the release of the boisterous, Houston-homaging, Project Pat-inspired ‘Big Dawgs’ featuring Kalmi. It was a gritty, high-octane rap track that climbed to Number 23 on the Billboard Hot 100 and the Top 10 on Billboard Global 200 – the first time an English song by an Indian artist ever achieved such a feat. Its virality on YouTube, TikTok and Spotify saw it garner over 700million plays across all three platforms.

Before that, he was already quietly sharpening his blade. Born in Kerala and, thanks to his dad’s job in the oil industry, raised across Egypt, Trinidad, Nigeria and the US, he absorbed this patchwork of cultures that still colours his sound today. Hanumankind’s creative instincts were first lit by his mother, whose ghost stories, fables and folklore unlocked a lifelong obsession with storytelling and writing. “Stories give perspective – they’re a window into how people think and feel,” he reasons. “A good story is a good story. It doesn’t matter where it’s from.”

“I’m not a fucking role model. But I also recognise that I’ve affected people in my country and people who are like me”

As he matured, he tried to find his calling, briefly working for Goldman Sachs in Bangalore. Soon, though, he swapped the nine-to-five grind in favour of underground cyphers, punk shows and indie-rap circles. His early EPs, 2019’s ‘Kalari’ and 2020’s ‘Surface Level’, earned him a reputation for unflinching lyricism, while his live shows made him known as a bruising performer – two things he still lives up to this day. As he worked to establish himself, he still didn’t chase stardom – it was always about stories, challenges and craft.

Fame seems to be calling for Hanumankind regardless. The unexpected success of ‘Big Dawgs’ has been a blessing for the fast-rising rapper, but it’s also taken some getting used to. “We made music from a space of needing to create, needing to feel OK with ourselves,” he explains, tucked into a cushioned office chair once The Cover shoot is done. “It’s not about money. It’s not about how many people we reach. It was an incessant need so we can feel OK and make something our hearts align with. Then, all of a sudden, people are like, ‘Oh shit, ‘Big Dawgs’…’ or whatever. A wave of attention came, but we didn’t plan for that.”

Since that big breakthrough moment, Hanumankind has reaped the rewards: a set at this year’s Coachella, a spot on the NME 100 and a collaboration with “savant” Fred Again.. on ‘Victory Lap 3’. Now, on his debut mixtape ‘Monsoon Season’, he wants to show that he is “trying to be a better storyteller every day”.

If ‘Big Dawgs’ was a tsunami clearing a space for him in the rap world, ‘Monsoon Season’ is what settles after the flood: contemplative, raw and rich with personal excavation. “Everyone associates me with a heavier energy,” Hanumankind explains. “But I like to take my time to think about things and put it down in music because that’s the only space I feel I can truly be honest.”

The mixtape isn’t a genre stunt or a brand exercise. Unpolished and intentionally jagged, it chronicles years spent grinding in silence, building identity through trial, failure and instinct. The songs, built long before virality found him, reflect that internal and emotional urgency, like philosophy masked by 808s and brooding synths. In a way, Hanumankind is wiping the slate clean while honouring how his “old self got [him] here”. “I want to step into things with a fresh headspace,” he says. “There’s a lot I’ve been holding on to in the past that I also need to let go, and this mixtape is that, too.”

Musically, the mixtape sidesteps expectations of Desi-pop dramatics and leaned-out Dirty South replicas, two ideas often pushed onto him. Houston, the city where he spent his formative years, “was a big part of my life”, but his globe-trotting upbringing has always ingrained the idea of fusion in him. “My roots are important to me, but they’re not what defines me,” he states.

“Music is the only space I feel I can truly be honest”

What really defines Hanumankind’s artistry is his philosophical accessibility. Though he is “not very religious” and has his own “turbulent” relationship with God, his spiritual upbringing in a Hindu household clearly influenced this need for higher learning. He named himself after the Hindu god of self-discipline and loyalty, Hanuman, after all. Or maybe he is emulating his inspirations – Kendrick Lamar, J. Cole, Logic – as the wordsmith that he is. Nonetheless, he conveys truth in a way that hits immediately.

There’s a throughline of freedom across ‘Monsoon Season’, exploring both its liberating and confining nature. “This whole endeavour that I’m on is a quest for freedom,” Hanumankind says. “The outside world might see that I get to make music, you get to do whatever the fuck you want, but your freedom can become what enslaves you. I’m also confined to my head, my actions and what limitations and possibilities that brings.”

That tension reaches a boiling point on the Rudy Mukta-assisted ‘Cause’, the mixtape’s moral anchor. Over disjointed, haunting production, Hanumankind unpacks how belief systems can both ground and consume us. “What’s the cause you believe… that will make you push past your limits, go above and beyond?” he questions on the track, examining the line between purpose and obsession. “[Would you] do what it takes even if they’re alarmed, even if what it takes is to hurt and to harm?”

“There are so many people who have leaned into a cause, and it’s a good thing for a while until it finally isn’t,” he explains. “Sometimes all people know is their religion, or their political alignment, and humanity and love kinda goes out the window.” That paranoia of slipping into blind devotion or empty striving isn’t abstract for him. It’s personal. “If I don’t dive into things that actively engage my mind, soul and spirit, I’ll start looking for things that can give me feeling or purpose, or the illusion of pursuing something,” he confesses.

“My roots are important to me, but they’re not what defines me”

So, what is Hanumankind’s cause and purpose? Is it the freedom to experiment like he has done on ‘Monsoon Season’? Is it to be a mirror for India’s youth or even an ambassador of the country’s rap scene? “Sure, there’s pressure,” he comments on the latter. “It can overwhelm you and eat away at your happiness, your comfort, your love for things. I try not to get lost in the sauce… I’m no fucking perfect person. I’m not a fucking role model. I didn’t get into this thinking that I was going to be. But I also recognise that I’ve affected people in my country and people who are like me.”

The rapper hopes to “bring a semblance of change in the way other people see” Indian creatives. He defiantly sticks his middle finger up at those who diminish his identity: “Shut the fuck up. You don’t get to tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to sound like or be like. You know nothing about our history and culture.” And if it’s not him, then it’s going to be someone else to take the torch: “India is moving. We’ve got artists who’ll blow your minds… I’m just doing my part.”

Hours after the studio session, Hanumankind squeezes in his first mixtape playback at boutique bar Spiritland. The crowd at this small soiree is predominantly South Asian – and vocal in their appreciation. While discussing the desire to represent the true, everyday experience of India, someone in the audience shouts, “You’ve done us proud.” Hanumankind replies: “Honestly, I’m honoured and I’m blessed for that, but now the internal journey is to make myself proud.”

While he encourages everyone “to stand for something” on ‘Monsoon Season’, Hanumankind is still figuring out what his own path looks like. “To me, it’s always been more than music,” he muses. “This is a quest for me to find out more about myself, and in turn the world, my people, everything around us. Through my journey of learning, of seeking truth, maybe I’ll be able to leave something behind: something of love, respect, or just something worthy of remembrance.

“In the end, you don’t really have any control over anything. Whatever happens, happens.” Though the road ahead remains unwritten, Hanumankind will continue his mission, one step at a time.

Hanumankind’s ‘Monsoon Season’ is out now via Capitol Records/Universal Music India.

Listen to Hanumankind’s exclusive playlist to accompany The Cover below on Spotify or on Apple Music here.

Words: Kyann-Sian Williams
Photography: Faysal Hassan
Styling: Connor Gaffe
Styling Assistance: Frank Williams
Label: Capitol Records/Universal Music India

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