When Double J The Rapper first heard that he would be rapping on an A.R. Rahman composition for Moonwalk, the feeling was not excitement or disbelief. It was something quieter, deeper. A sense of faith being answered.
“It came with pride, excitement, everything,” he says. “But more than that, it made me believe again in manifestation and in God. I always felt that if you truly believe, things will find their way to you.” Working with Rahman, he admits, was never part of his plans for 2026. “It wasn’t even on the cards. That’s what made it crazy.”
The collaboration itself did not happen in a grand studio moment. There was no dramatic first meeting across a mixing console. Double J was in Canada. Rahman was elsewhere. Everything moved virtually. Demos were sent, passed to the director, forwarded again, and then silence. Long, uncertain silence.
“It wasn’t easy,” he says. “I never knew if I was still in the race or if I was already replaced.” Then came the message that changed everything: Double J is good enough. He is good to go.
“That was it,” he smiles. “That was the biggest validation of my entire life.”
A.R. Rahman is known for choosing voices that carry feeling, not just technique. When asked what Rahman might have heard in him, Double J answers simply. “My voice. That’s what everyone said. Even the director told me it was my voice.”
That truth came as a surprise to him. Years of failure had taught him to doubt himself. Deals falling through. Opportunities promised and then taken away. “You fail ten thousand times and you start thinking you are good for nothing,” he says. “But failure is not rejection. It is preparation.”
Out of the entire independent music scene, he was the one chosen. “That is something I will carry to the grave,” he says quietly. “So many people dream of this. I lived it.”
The collaboration changed him. Not just as an artist, but as a person. “Earlier, I was very scared. Very panicky. I doubted myself all the time,” he admits. “Now I walk with confidence. Chin up.”
Seeing Rahman in person for the first time, performing on stage, was another shift. After that, things around him began to change. Artists started approaching him. The industry began to look at him differently. “That’s the best part,” he says. “You feel seen.”
Before all of this, the journey was rough. In Kerala, choosing to rap in English felt like swimming against the tide. “Quitting was very easy,” he admits. Almost twenty-five opportunities collapsed after seeming complete. On top of that, there was the question of identity. “In Kerala, you need Malayalam. In Bangalore, Kannada. And here I was, an English rapper.”
He kept asking himself what to do next. If YouTube did not work, he tried Spotify. If collaborations were too expensive, he scraped together money. If that failed, he looked for another way. “That’s how I survived,” he says. “Reels changed my life. If it wasn’t for reels, nobody would have found me.”
Today, he is known as the fastest English rapper in India. But behind that speed lies pain, discipline and survival. As a child, Double J had a speech impairment. He stuttered. He was bullied. He was afraid to speak.
Music became his escape. Listening to artists like Eminem and Busta Rhymes changed everything. “I thought, this is powerful. This is freedom,” he says. Eminem, in particular, inspired him. “His stories, his honesty, his journey. If it wasn’t for music, I wouldn’t be here.”
Practising endlessly was not about fame. It was about healing. “To overcome my speech impairment, I had to aim high,” he says. “I practised and practised until fear stopped controlling me.” Today, his speed is not just skill. It is proof.
Reels changed my life. If it wasn’t for reels, nobody would have found me.Double J The Rapper
When he broke his own record at 6.9 words per second, it was not about proving others wrong. “It was about proving myself right,” he says. Rap, he believes, has always carried an element of boasting. “So I told myself to be better than yesterday.”Today, he stands as India’s fastest rapper.
Labels still follow him. Fast rapper. English rapper. Regional rapper. He understands why. “People tune in for fast tracks,” he says. “But I have made poetic songs too. Social songs. Political songs.” He names Neethi, Niram, Just Friends. “That is also me.”
His social awareness comes from empathy. Songs like Neethi address violence against women without sensationalism. “Awareness is still low,” he says. “I want to speak where silence exists.” Inspired by artists like Tupac and Eminem, he sees rappers as preachers, not just performers.
The most painful lesson of his journey came in 2017. Promised a breakthrough, he borrowed money from eight people to collaborate with a famous personality. The song never released. The promises vanished. “Two lakhs was everything I had,” he says. He worked odd jobs, hid from lenders, and slowly paid everyone back. “That taught me how many scams exist in this industry. Now, nobody can fool me.”
Success, he believes, has made him humbler, not louder. “You don’t need arrogance to reach the top,” he says. “Rahman sir is the peak. There is no shortcut to success.”
If he could speak to his younger self, he would say this: be consistent, be careful, and do not chase money blindly. “Money comes when your name comes,” he says.
After working with A.R. Rahman, do his dreams look bigger? He pauses. “There is nothing bigger,” he says honestly. “But now I have power. Not pride. Power with humility.”
The legacy he hopes to leave is simple. “Anything is possible,” he says. “Hard work, consistency and love for music should define you, not other people’s opinions.”
And when the mic is off? Double J laughs. “I’m just a fun guy,” he says. “Terrible dad jokes. That’s it.”