During the peak of the think-piece surge in the mid-2010s, the South Asian diaspora found itself divided into two main groups: those who empathized with stories about brown children being teased at school for their peculiar lunches, and those who perceived these tales as evidence of a community that was overly focused on using past racial slights to define themselves as relatively privileged. As the passion surrounding this debate has cooled down, it has been replaced by a sense of hindsight. Nowadays, “White kids made fun of my lunch” is more about symbolizing how the oversimplified identity politics of that era overshadowed and homogenized the rich cultural experiences of countless people.
In the fresh Hulu series called “Deli Boys“, there’s a subtle wink to this topic that highlights the show’s greatest success. The zany comedy from Abdullah Saeed revolves around Raj Dhar (Saagar Shaikh) and Mir Dhar (Asif Ali), two privileged Pakistani American brothers who are unexpectedly tasked with managing a criminal family business following their father’s (baba’s) sudden demise. In episode three, the siblings, along with their late father’s associates, Lucky Auntie (Poorna Jagannathan) and Ahmed Uncle (Brian George), search for a fresh avenue to distribute the cocaine they conceal in pungent jars of achaar (South Asian pickles). They arrange a meeting with an Indian restaurant chain to dupe them into stocking their merchandise. “Try it,” Mir suggests, unscrewing the lid. “If your child doesn’t experience bullying by white schoolchildren when they pull this out of their lunchbox, it’s not Kaka-brand achaar!” In the universe of “Deli Boys“, this comment is neither a reference to racial discrimination nor a criticism of its portrayal; instead, it serves as a trope to play with. As much as any show featuring brown Muslim characters can, the show avoids discussing identity politics unless they contribute to humor. The way these characters identify themselves ethnically is irrelevant to the dangerous, high-stakes criminal world they find themselves in.
https://youtube.com/watch?v=watch?v=0VjeURFk5_s&ab_channel=Hulu
For Saeed, it wasn’t a deliberate intention when creating the series Deli Boys, but rather an outcome of writing a show in his distinctive style. Born in Pakistan and raised in Thailand, Saeed has a versatile background as a musician, journalist, screenwriter, activist, and host. He gained popularity from hosting Viceland’s nonfiction series Bong Appétit, focusing on cannabis-infused cuisine, as well as writing and acting on HBO’s High Maintenance. He’s difficult to classify, and the same can be said for his characters. He simply placed these characters in the world he envisioned and allowed their stories to develop organically from there. As he puts it, “They’re not forced. They’re not trying to validate or reconcile their South Asian culture with their American culture. That’s dull.
At what point did you initially conceive the idea for Deli Boys?
This script, which I worked on for three years at Searchlight, was a co-write – a rather lengthy, peculiar feature that wasn’t the best representation of my style. My manager at the time suggested I write something more authentic to my voice, and that’s when Deli Boys was born. It was created as an expression of the internal dialogue that many children of immigrants experience: the struggle between honoring one’s parents and embracing the freedom of not being in our old homeland anymore. The characters in the show initially embody these extremes but provide a comedic platform for exploring this tension, as we all find ourselves somewhere between these two thought processes.
How did the experience go of presenting our show concept to various networks and streaming platforms? Well, it was quite a journey. The only producer who showed interest in producing it after reading and liking it was Jenni Konner, but she was tied up with an overall deal at what was then Fox 21. We assembled a pitch based on her interest, which got picked up by Fox 21, the studio. However, we needed to collaborate with them further and pitch it out to networks. The process took longer due to restructuring within Disney’s TV studios: Fox 21 became Touchstone Television, then 20th Television. By the time we were prepared to approach potential buyers (Netflix, Hulu, FX, Peacock), everyone declined, and no other platforms seemed interested in hearing our pitch.
In 2022, as I geared up to seek opportunities in writers’ rooms once more, the producers hinted at one last hope: Onyx Collective. With a shrug, I thought, “Why not?” since I didn’t anticipate them taking my pitch seriously. But they did! It was an unexpected delight amidst the usual heartbreak of dreams dashed and cherished ideas lost. The journey wasn’t easy; we faced numerous hurdles like the pandemic, the strike, and other delays. At each stage, it seemed as if this project was destined to climb an uphill battle.
Were you receiving feedback that the networks found the content too similar or overlapping with other projects, particularly those featuring South Asian or Muslim characters? It’s possible that the executives, being predominantly white, may not fully grasp the intricacies of these representations. I recall one network mentioning they were working on “Homeland Elegies,” but you pointed out that it bore no resemblance to your project because both are Pakistani-themed. It felt like they were dismissing your work without fully understanding its uniqueness.
In this project, we cast a diverse pool of actors because I’ve always advocated for Pakistani representation. However, finding suitable candidates can be challenging due to cultural nuances that not everyone may fully grasp. It’s easier to cast Indian actors in Pakistani roles since there are more options available. We reviewed countless audition tapes, and my wife, also an actor, helped me evaluate the performances. She commented, “Everyone here is putting so much heart into this.” I was left thinking, “I wish I could cast all of you,” wishing that everyone with a passion for our work could be involved. Unfortunately, we couldn’t. So, along with the other executive producers and the entire team, we chose the two standouts who exceeded our expectations. They were far superior to anything we had imagined.
In your own words, how did you avoid turning the show into a discussion about representation from the start? Since the script was on spec, I didn’t feel any pressure to cater to it early on. Instead, I focused on expressing my unique voice and letting my characters be true to themselves. Essentially, I let them be themselves without forcing emotional narratives or trying to reconcile their South Asian culture with their American upbringing, as I find such themes uninteresting and tiresome. The humor is the core of everything for me.
It appears they effortlessly blend their Pakistani and American cultures, picking and choosing elements as needed. In the initial episode following their father’s death, Raj and Mir are seen in a mosque unsure of how to pray, but there are instances where Raj sports an Allah pendant on a chain. Many Muslims identify with their faith without it constantly shaping their thoughts, simply living and being. I personally consider myself Muslim, though my religious practices may not be consistent, and someone else might argue I’m not truly Muslim. However, to that person, I say “fuck off” because I am a Muslim—this is my identity. There are over a billion of us, and we defy these simple categorizations. My goal is to encourage people to abandon those binary questions, as this perspective is a part of mainstream culture’s narrow view of us. I want to define myself based on who I truly am, not what white America assumes I should be.
In many TV series featuring South Asian characters, the characters often defy or challenge the model-minority stereotype. When considering where your characters fit on this spectrum, it appears they all actively reject it. For instance, Baba, who is a flamboyant entrepreneur, breaks away from the typical portrayal of white businessmen. Although there might be criticisms about his exuberance, such as people saying “This dark-skinned person is too wild,” Baba doesn’t care about such judgments. His vision of the American Dream was accumulating wealth, wearing pinstripes, and raising spoiled children, and he has achieved this without seeking validation from others.
Later on, we have Raj and Mir, who simply live their lives as they are, engaging in actions some might find questionable or immoral. However, our showrunner Michelle Nader emphasizes that “Criminals don’t see themselves as criminals!” They’re just making the best of their circumstances. A significant aspect of the series is that they don’t have to conform to stereotypes of model minorities. Why should any of us?
In the show, a humorous scene reminds me of when Raj and Ahmed Uncle debate over partition. Ahmed Uncle presumed that Raj’s grandmother perished during partition, to which Raj retorted humorously, “You’ve been joked! Grandma actually passed away in an American nursing home due to neglect!” This idea of placing your elderly relatives in a nursing home is strongly frowned upon in South Asian culture, but these characters are not bound by those traditional expectations.
To put it simply, the values portrayed here are very much American. The concept that you would pay someone to care for your parent instead of doing it yourself is deeply ingrained in the American Dream’s functioning. When we refer to “Dadi,” that’s clearly Baba’s mother. Essentially, he was saying, I’m working tirelessly like an American does to achieve the American Dream, so I don’t have the time to care for my mom myself, so I’ll put her in a nursing home.
This scene could be about assimilation, but it could also be just a funny moment where Raj is saying, “Got you! My grandma died in a much more unfortunate manner!” For me, the humor lies in the money aspect.
The theme of wealth is intriguing as it’s a common factor among many South Asian Americans of this generation, such as Raj and Mir, whose parents have achieved significant success, shielding them from any real class or cultural camaraderie. A line in the pilot that amused me was when Raj said, “It’s up to us to enjoy life for everyone who looks like us but doesn’t have it.” This showcases a feeling of survivor’s guilt which is prevalent among immigrant children. However, I believe guilt is a misplaced emotion. Feeling guilty about those who share our heritage but are struggling elsewhere – what purpose does that serve? It might inspire us to take action through volunteering or donations, but how much guilt do we truly feel versus the actions we actually take? In a way, Raj’s perspective can be understood, where he expresses something like, I wager there are more people who would see me and say, “Go ahead, brother. We’re all struggling, but at least you can live that life for us.”
It’s quite ironic to consider a life of luxury and carefree ease as activism, isn’t it? In many aspects, Raj seems more like a false activist. He’s privileged, yet he espouses these lofty, idealistic views. His privilege allows him to hold such views, which is a stark reflection of American society. It’s almost like an investment banker who attends spiritual retreats.
It was a fantastic opportunity for me, as I got to cast my wife, Alexandra Ruddy, in a role I created. This experience was incredibly rewarding because it allowed me to express myself creatively and showcase her exceptional comedic talent. Plus, she’s absolutely stunning, and I still can’t believe that she chose to be with me!
As a movie critic, I found myself delving into the character of Director Simpson, played by Tim Baltz, who, to put it mildly, might not be the sharpest tool in the shed. In this era where discussions about television police portrayals and avoiding “copaganda” are prevalent, I was intrigued to learn if this aspect was considered during the character’s conception.
Indeed, there exists a complex relationship between Muslim Americans and the FBI, which forms the basis for our narrative. Through exploring stories of Muslim surveillance, we have come across instances of heavy-handed undercover operations and internal agency corruption that often result in less-than-stellar outcomes, making their way into episodes of “This American Life.” And it’s not uncommon to hear people exclaim, “The FBI is a bunch of idiots!
It’s clear that the high number of FBI agents doesn’t explain everything, but when you create a department to catch criminals, they’ll find them, even if there are none around. And indeed, Agent Mercer has a knack for it because she senses something is amiss, no matter how well-hidden. Agent Simpson initially comes off as arrogant, but I believe he eventually recognizes the determination in this younger agent that perhaps he himself lacks, which ignites him to bend the rules. The opportunity to work with Tim Baltz was fantastic since he’s one of our most skilled comedic actors. And let me tell you, they also got to act alongside Chris Elliott in our series finale. Chris Elliott portrays a character I take great pride in called Sergeant Angelo Testicola, a Philly PD cop who feels inferior to the FBI.
In this version, I’ve aimed to keep the essence of the original text while making it more accessible and natural to read.
How did the chance to make Tan France debut as an actor in Deli Boys come up? Well, after they had gone through the scripts for the initial part of the season, Saagar, Asif, and Poorna were brainstorming for cool South Asian actors who could fit some of our roles. Turns out, Poorna is friends with Tan. At first, they thought, “Maybe Tan can be Murderwala in episode three?” Then, he worked with Jenni and Michelle on Zoom, testing his acting skills; they were impressed and said, “This guy has real acting chops! In fact, after he’s in this show, people are going to see him as an actor.” We had a role written by Feraz Ozel for a British Pakistani gangster, and it was like fate. Tan had the right accent for it, and when we saw him play a tough, intimidating character, it was quite a shock. I’m glad we got to show that side of him to the world.
Was your experience with cannabis and drug decriminalization prior work a factor in how you portrayed drugs in “Deli Boys”? To put it another way, could it be said that the depiction of drugs in the show is an expression of the culmination of your career’s focus on cannabis advocacy? Indeed, I believe the casual inclusion of drugs in the series reflects my long-standing efforts, which included championing pro-cannabis causes. However, times have changed, and I think it’s crucial for people of color to recognize that cannabis is part of our heritage. It’s found in Ayurveda, and its historical and cultural significance among South Asians has been obscured by colonialism. Breaking free from this mindset is vital. The boundaries we draw between drugs, food, and medicine are culturally constructed and not universally accepted; we don’t have to follow the Western standard. Raj, the character, embodies this reality very well. I genuinely feel this way about cannabis, believing that we should embrace its natural teachings instead of keeping ourselves away from it. And yes, I use phrases like “plant teachers” because I truly believe that!
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2025-03-06 19:44