By Krishna Dua 
Gulshan Grover’s ‘Bad Man’: A Villain’s Journey in Bollywood
Mumbai, September 22, 2025 – In the glittering yet unforgiving world of Bollywood, few monikers have endured like “Bad Man.” Coined in the late 1980s for his chilling portrayal of the ruthless Kesariya Vilayati in Subhash Ghai’s Ram Lakhan, the label stuck to Gulshan Grover like a shadow he couldn’t shake—or perhaps didn’t want to. Over three decades, Grover has embodied the archetype of the suave, menacing antagonist, his gravelly voice and piercing gaze sending shivers down audiences’ spines in over 400 films. But on September 22, 2025—his 70th birthday—Grover reflects on this villainous legacy not with regret, but with a wry smile. “The Bad Man was never me; it was the roles that chose me,” he shares in an exclusive interview at his Bandra residence, surrounded by scripts and memorabilia from a career that bridged Hindi cinema’s masala era to its global aspirations. From the opium-laced dens of Ram Lakhan to the high-stakes betrayals of Tridev, Grover’s journey as Bollywood’s premier villain is a masterclass in reinvention, resilience, and the art of being deliciously detestable. As he promotes his memoir Bad Man (re-released in a 10th-anniversary edition by Ebury Publishing on July 19, 2025), Grover delves into the highs, lows, and unexpected humanity behind the mask of menace. This is the story of a Delhi boy who became Bollywood’s boogeyman—and how the industry, and he himself, learned to love the darkness.
Grover’s narrative isn’t just about celluloid sins; it’s a mirror to Bollywood’s evolution. In an age where anti-heroes blur lines and villains seek redemption arcs, his unapologetic embrace of the “Bad Man” persona stands as both relic and revelation. With upcoming roles in Heer Express (releasing September 12, 2025) and Sardaarji 3 (June 27, 2025), where he sheds the villain skin for nuanced shades, Grover’s path from feared foe to beloved icon underscores a truth: In Hindi cinema, the bad guys often steal the show—and sometimes, the heart.
From Delhi Streets to Dramatic Stages: Grover’s Formative Years
Gulshan Kumar Grover was born on September 21, 1955, in Delhi’s bustling Karol Bagh, the son of a strict schoolteacher father and a homemaker mother who instilled in him a love for literature and the arts. The youngest of five siblings, young Gulshan’s childhood was a tapestry of contrasts—Sundays spent at the local gurdwara reciting poetry, weekdays navigating the chaotic lanes of Old Delhi, where street plays and radio dramas sparked his thespian fire. “My father wanted a CA; I dreamed of curtains,” Grover recalls with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling behind signature aviators. A postgraduate from Shri Ram College of Commerce (1980), Grover’s academic prowess masked a restless spirit. It was the theatre that claimed him: In 1977, he joined the Little Theatre Group, a legendary Delhi ensemble founded by theatre stalwarts like M.K. Raina and Barry John. There, amid improvisations of Brecht and Beckett, Grover honed his craft, channeling raw emotion into monologues that left audiences spellbound.
Theatre wasn’t just rehearsal; it was rebellion. Grover’s early productions, like a 1978 adaptation of Waiting for Godot, saw him essay the brooding Vladimir, earning rave reviews from The Hindu’s critic who dubbed him “a force of nature.” But Delhi’s stages couldn’t contain him. By 1980, armed with a one-way ticket to Mumbai and a letter of introduction from director Sai Paranjpye, Grover arrived in the city of dreams. His first break? A bit role in Aap Ke Saath (1986), a TV serial where he played a sleazy landlord—foreshadowing the villains to come. “Mumbai tested me,” he admits. “I slept on Marine Drive benches, survived on vada pav, but theatre’s discipline kept me going.” Those lean years forged the intensity that would define his screen presence: A man who could command a frame with a mere glare, turning menace into magnetism.
The Birth of the ‘Bad Man’: Kesariya Vilayati and the 1980s Breakthrough
The moniker “Bad Man” crystallized on January 27, 1989, with the release of Ram Lakhan, Subhash Ghai’s magnum opus of sibling rivalry and redemption. Directed by the “Showman,” the film starred Jackie Shroff as the heroic Ram and Anil Kapoor as the vengeful Lakhan, but it was Grover’s Kesariya Vilayati—a opium-addled don with a penchant for poetic cruelty—who stole the thunder. Clad in velvet kurtas and sporting a nefarious sneer, Kesariya’s entrance—striding through a haze of hookah smoke, barking orders in a baritone laced with menace—set box-office records ablaze. The film’s iconic dialogue, “Main hoon Bad Man!” (delivered with a predatory grin), became a cultural catchphrase, spawning T-shirts and mimicry contests across India.
Ram Lakhan wasn’t mere typecasting; it was alchemy. Grover, then 33, auditioned for a side role but convinced Ghai to expand Kesariya into a vortex of villainy. “Subhash ji saw the devil in my eyes,” Grover laughs. The film grossed ₹8 crore (a blockbuster in 1989 terms), earning Grover the Filmfare nomination for Best Villain—his first of many. Overnight, offers flooded: From Tridev (1989), where he menaced Sunny Deol as the arms-smuggling Ansari, to Jeet (1996), opposite Salman Khan’s righteous cop. The 1980s formula suited him—Ghai’s larger-than-life spectacles, where villains weren’t cartoonish but charismatic, their defeats as cathartic as the heroes’ triumphs. Grover’s Bad Man wasn’t one-note; he infused pathos, like Kesariya’s tragic backstory of betrayal, making audiences loathe and lament in equal measure. By decade’s end, he had 20 villainous credits, cementing a niche that paid handsomely—₹50 lakh per film by 1990—while peers like Amrish Puri and Anupam Kher vied for similar shadows.
Iconic Villain Roles: A Gallery of Grovers Greatest Foes
Grover’s villainy vault is a rogues’ gallery of Bollywood’s darkest delights, each role a chameleon shift that showcased his range. In Tridev (1989), as the cold-blooded Ansari, he orchestrated a heist with Machiavellian flair, his confrontation with Naseeruddin Shah’s cop a masterclass in simmering tension—grossing ₹20 crore, it spawned the “Bad Man” chant in theaters. Vishwatma (1992) elevated him to anti-hero: Playing the rogue ACP Azghar Bakhtiyar, a double-agent torn between duty and desire, Grover’s chemistry with Chunky Panday crackled, earning critical acclaim and a ₹12 crore haul.
The 1990s pinnacle? Gunda (1998), a cult B-movie where Grover’s Bulla—a mustachioed mafia lord with a penchant for philosophical monologues—delivered lines like “Chicken khurafat!” in a voice that became meme fodder decades later. Though panned, its low-budget charm (₹2 crore budget, ₹5 crore earnings) immortalized Grover as the king of camp. International forays followed: In The Second Jungle Book: Mowgli & Baloo (1997, Hollywood), he voiced the sinister Shere Khan, his growl haunting Disney’s adaptation. Back home, International Khiladi (1999) saw him as the suave Rana, opposite Akshay Kumar, blending sophistication with savagery in a ₹15 crore thriller.
The 2000s diversified: Gangster (2006) as Lakhan Hooda, a brooding don whose tragic arc resonated, netting a Filmfare nod. I Am Kalam (2010), a poignant drama, humanized him as the abusive father, earning National Award contention. By 2015’s Kaun Kitney Paani Mein, as the corrupt Kharu Pahelwan, Grover lampooned his image, proving villainy could wink at itself. Stats speak: 150+ negative roles, 12 Filmfare nods, and a box-office contribution exceeding ₹1,000 crore. “Villains are the story’s spine,” Grover opines. “Heroes shine because we cast the shadows.”
The ‘Bad Man’ Persona: Off-Screen Struggles and Stereotype’s Sting
The crown of “Bad Man” was double-edged. On set, it commanded respect—directors like Ghai and Mahesh Bhatt tailored scripts around his intensity—but off-screen, it isolated. “Women crossed streets to avoid me,” Grover reveals in Bad Man, recounting a 1990s incident where a fan’s mother barred her daughter from an autograph, mistaking his screen snarl for real malice. Socially, dinner invites dwindled; at parties, whispers followed: “That’s the guy who kills heroes.” The stereotype peaked in the 1990s: Typecast in 80% of roles, Grover turned down 50 hero offers, fearing dilution. “I could’ve been the next Sunny Deol, but Bad Man paid the bills—and the soul,” he muses.
Personal tolls mounted: A 1995 divorce from first wife Kashmira, amid rumors of his “dangerous” aura, scarred him. “Marriage needs normalcy; I was a myth,” he admits. Bollywood’s villain bias—rooted in post-Emergency escapism—trapped him, while peers like Jackie Shroff transcended. Yet, Grover flipped the script: Embracing the tag, he launched “Bad Man” merchandise in 2000, turning infamy into income. Social media, post-2010, humanized him: Instagram reels of him cooking biryani or mentoring actors amassed 2 million followers, dissolving the dread. “Fans saw the father, the poet—not just the killer,” he says. By 2025, the persona empowers: In Heer Express, he plays a benevolent patriarch, subverting expectations. Struggles? Sure. But they sculpted a survivor whose growl now whispers wisdom.
International Ventures: The Bad Man Goes Global
Grover’s villainy transcended borders, making him Bollywood’s first true global antagonist. Hollywood beckoned in 1997 with The Second Jungle Book, where his Shere Khan roared opposite Bill Campbell’s Mowgli—a Disney venture that grossed $82 million worldwide. “They wanted exotic menace; I gave them Pashtun fire,” he recalls. Follow-ups included Gupt: The Hidden Truth (1997, Zee5 international cut) and Desperate Endeavours (2010), earning Best Actor at New York and Houston Film Festivals for his spiritual guru turn.
Punjabi cinema embraced him: Sardaarji (2015) as the sinister Rana, blending menace with mirth in a ₹20 crore hit. International collabs peaked with Rose Margaret (2023), a German-French bilingual where he played a revolutionary leader, falling in love amid exile—premiering at Berlin Film Festival. By 2025, Grover’s footprint spans 20 countries: Cameos in Canadian Vaapsi (2016) and US Chehere (2015). “Bad Man traveled well—universally hated, universally hooked,” he quips. Stats: 50 international credits, collaborations with 100+ global talents. This diaspora didn’t dilute; it distilled his essence, proving Bollywood’s bad could conquer worlds.
Recent Works and Reinvention: Beyond the Bad Man Mask
The 2020s mark Grover’s renaissance, shedding typecasts for textured turns. Badman (2016), a mockumentary directed by Soumik Sen, was meta-mastery: Grover as a fictionalized self, the aging Bad Man plotting a heroic comeback with sons Suresh and Gaurav, cameo-laden with Rishi Kapoor and Farah Khan. “It was therapy—laughing at my own legend,” he says. Grossing ₹5 crore on a ₹3 crore budget, it critiqued Bollywood’s underbelly, earning festival laughs.
Kaun Kitney Paani Mein (2015) lampooned him as Kharu Pahelwan, a water-hoarding tyrant— a satirical swing at environmental woes, opposite Pankaj Kapur. I Am Kalam (2010) humanized: As the tyrannical father to Chhotu (Harsh Mayar), his brutality masked vulnerability, netting National Award nods. 2025’s Heer Express, directed by Umesh Shukla (releasing September 12), casts him as a wise uncle in a family drama with Divita Juneja, Ashutosh Rana, and Sanjay Mishra— “No guns, just guidance,” Grover teases. Sardaarji 3 (June 27, 2025) reunites him with Diljit Dosanjh as a quirky ally, blending supernatural laughs.
Reinvention thrives off-screen: Producer via 4 Lions Films (Noor, 2017), mentor to newcomers like Prit Kamani. Philanthropy—funding Delhi theatre schools—grounds him. “Bad Man was act one; now, it’s encore,” he affirms. With 400+ films, Grover’s arc from antagonist to auteur reflects Bollywood’s maturation: Villains evolve, but their fire endures.
Legacy of the Bad Man: Influence on Bollywood and Beyond
Gulshan Grover’s Bad Man isn’t legacy—it’s legend, influencing a pantheon of performers. From Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s layered foes in Gangs of Wasseypur to Pankaj Tripathi’s comedic menace in Mirzapur, his blueprint—charisma laced with cruelty—permeates. Directors like Anurag Kashyap credit him: “Grover made villains human; we just amplified.” Awards tally: 12 Filmfare nods, IIFA’s Lifetime Achievement (2020), and Padma Shri whispers.
Beyond screens, he bridges worlds: Hollywood’s Jungle Book opened doors for desi actors; his memoir Bad Man (2019, updated 2025) dissects the craft, inspiring memoirs like Nawaz’s An Ordinary Life. Socially, he shattered stereotypes: Post-#MeToo, his “gentleman villain” ethos empowers women co-stars. At 70, Grover eyes direction—a biopic on a forgotten villain? “The Bad Man writes his own end,” he muses. In Bollywood’s ever-shifting sands, Grover’s journey endures: A testament that true icons don’t fade—they frighten, fascinate, and forever fascinate.
As September 22, 2025, marks his septuagenarian milestone, Gulshan Grover toasts not to the Bad Man, but the man who wore the mask. In a industry of fleeting fame, his villainy is virtue—eternal, unyielding, unforgettable.