A Delhi boy. A boarding school. A stage.
And everything he unlearned along the way.
There’s a certain expectation we place on men as they grow, that they sharpen, steady, perhaps even shed the parts of themselves that feel too soft, too playful, too unguarded. That somewhere along the way, the boy must make way for the man.
Aashim Gulati never quite subscribed to that exchange.
When we met him earlier this year, what stood out wasn’t an attempt to perform ease, but the absence of performance altogether. There was a lightness to him, unforced and instinctive.
Gulati grew up in Delhi before being sent to a boys’ boarding school, an environment he remembers as “quite unforgiving.” By his own admission, he was “quite rebellious about following rules.” The sort of rebellion that doesn’t disrupt the room, but refuses to be defined by it either. Boarding school, he says, was less about polish and more about survival. “In order to conquer the world, you have to start with your own bed, make it.” A philosophy that feels almost quaint, until you realise how much of adulthood it continues to explain.
It was here, almost incidentally, that he found theatre. What began as an escape soon became something far more defining. “It was magic… I could be different characters,” he says, “and live vicariously through them.”
Bombay followed, with all its movement and unpredictability. Fifteen years on, what remains is not a singular transformation, but a series of selves, tested, shed, reassembled. “I’ve seen so many different versions of myself,” he reflects. What the city offers instead is time, the long, unglamorous apprenticeship of patience. “Good things take time. Great things take longer.”
There is resilience here, certainly, but not the kind that asks to be admired. Only the quiet work of showing up, again and again. “If I’m not happy with myself, I better stop expecting it from the world.”And perhaps that’s where this story truly sits. Not in what he has let go of, but in what he has chosen to keep. Not The Boy You Knew isn’t about growing up. It’s about recognising that the curious, instinctive, unafraid boy was never meant to be left behind.
“It was the most liberating feeling in the world. It made me feel alive and seen. Gave me an instant feeling of this is where I belong.”
– On first encounter with theatre.
Tell us about your first encounter with theatre.
Euphoric! It was the most liberating feeling in the world.
What did theatre and acting unlock for you?
It gave me a safe space to express things through characters that were otherwise difficult to express in real life. It gives you the freedom of not being judged, because it’s just a character I’m playing. I can be whoever I want and live vicariously through them, which also unlocks emotions I didn’t know I had.
“I used to play female as well as male characters in theatre, in an all boys school. So, on the contrary, I pushed my own version of ‘masculinity’ onto them.”
– On masculinity as a young boy.
What is your version of masculinity?
The idea of masculinity, and masculinity by definition needs to change. It’s how vulnerable you can be and still uphold yourself gracefully by not being scared of being seen. To be comfortable equally with your feminine side as you are with your masculine and being able to balance the two.
What’s something you’ve had to unlearn about yourself along the way?
The need for validation, especially when in our business it’s all in the hands of the audience. So, I’m still learning to unlearn it and then let that come from myself first. If I ain’t happy with myself, I better stop expecting it from the world.
“It’s the calm, the peace, the quiet strength that the ocean brings and how beautifully it humbles me. A reminder how little you have in your control and how important it is to let go and not take this beautiful life for granted. It’s everything!”
– On his love for scuba diving and life underwater.
What did you come to Bombay for?
To chase something bigger than myself.
You moved to Bombay 15 years ago. What has the city taught you?
That nothing good comes out of being impatient. And you have to be a tiny bit delusional to be able to go after what you really want. And that resilience isn’t optional.
Was there a phase in your journey that quietly changed you the most?
I was both quietly and loudly evolving, changing, transitioning, transforming, becoming and unbecoming all at the same time. It’s Mumbai, there is nothing quiet about it, haha!
Quick takes…
Men should talk more about…
The fact that they don’t say enough.
I wish someone had told me earlier that…
Progress beats perfection. Always.
Masculinity, to me, now means…
Vulnerability.
Strength today looks like…
Consistency.
I feel most myself when…
Laughing at the most nonsensical things with a friend who gets it.
“How I’ve learnt to go through it all. Good, bad, and ugly. And considering where I come from, how far I’ve come.”
– On what would surprise his younger self the most.
