
The music of revolution, the rhythm of resistance, the beats of the masses... That’s rap.
Since long, this power-packed genre has been synonymous with counterculture movements across the world. Few other musical styles have captured the essence of societal evolution like rap has.
With origins deeply rooted in the African-American communities in the US, especially the Bronx in New York, rap music has long been a powerful voice of expression for the unheard and the marginalised. Its inception can be traced to cultures of African-American storytelling and talking blues.
While being traditionally rooted in black literature and music, the genre has gained traction across the world, with multiple people appropriating the rhythmic style to express themselves freely. And among them, Indian rap has also come of age.
It encompasses a million stories from a country with a million cultural identities and languages. Be it the experiences of growing up amidst the fields of Punjab or hustling in the slums of Mumbai, from the established club music of Yo Yo Honey Singh to the newcomer star Hanumankind, rap and its variants stemming from the hip-hop movement is as vast and diverse as the culture here.
In Kerala too, the relevance and popularity of rap have been on the rise. However, amid the huge fan following and the top charters of artists such as Fejo, Dabzee and Vedan, women rappers remain a rarity.
It’s to this arena that the sari-clad all-women hip-hop collective Wild Wild Women came out as fresh air, spitting bars like they are made for it.
Founded by Ashwini Hiremath (Krantinari) in 2021, Wild Wild Women is a group of artists and activists, whose collective journey revolves around exploring the intricate experiences of women in society and integrating these often marginalised narratives into their artistic works.
The one-of-a-kind group features four talented rappers — HashtagPreeti (Preeti N Sutar), M C Mahila (Shruti Raut), JQueen (Jaqulin Lucas), and Pratika (Pratika E Prabhune) along with two break-dancers FlowRaw (Deepa Singh) and MGK (Mugdhamangaonkar) and graffiti artist Gauri Dabhaolkar.
Seamlessly switching between Hindi, Marathi, Tamil, Kannada and English, they critique patriarchal order, social injustices and female experiences. These women use their art to speak truth to power. Caste, sexuality, religion, and gender — no subject is off limits.
Hip-hop has always been a language of the streets, born of struggle, resistance, and identity. And today there are a handful of Malayali women breaking barriers and carving out powerful narratives. These women may not be headlining music festivals or making chart-topping hits, yet. However, they are part of a broader cultural shift.
TNIE speaks to three such women rappers from Kerala about their experiences, love for the genre and more.
Indulekha Warrier
She’s not just a rapper. As a trained classical and playback singer with years of experience in melody, she broke barriers when she emerged into the world of rhythm. Indulekha predominantly works in Malayalam cinema in addition to Tamil and Telugu films.
“It was my father’s teacher who introduced me to the rap scene. Initially, I didn’t think I was capable enough for it. But by around 2019, I started getting into rap more myself. My first rap became viral on social media, through some blessing,” Indulekha recalls her beginnings.
When it comes to hip-hop, she follows more Tamil rappers such as Navz-47, whose style and commitment to social justice have influenced Indulekha.
According to her, Kerala’s independent hip-hop scene is huge. “People are now finding the courage to create art. Women, however, haven’t broken into the scene as much. I think there will be a gradual change. As someone who started as a classical and playback singer, I’ve often felt that others disapprove of my rap. There is a marked difference between the reception of male rappers and female rappers. You need to be thick-skinned and very gutsy to get into this industry.
She remembers the social media trolls that came her way for covering Neeraj Madhav’s Panipaali. She wrote and published her first rap, Penn Rap as a sort of response to that virulent hate.
“I think my music is like ‘puli inji’,” she laughs. “Not everyone likes it, some find it unbearably sour and some enjoy the sweet aftertaste. I think it’s the perfect mix of sour, sweet, and a little spice,” she smiles.
Ameekha Liyana Ansar (VENO MISS)
Advocate by day, and rapper by night — Ameekha Liyana Ansar can do it all. Venomiss is a rising voice in Kerala’s underground hip-hop scene, known for her fierce lyrics, unapologetic energy, and powerful presence.
Rapping in Malayalam, she brings a raw honesty to her verses, often addressing themes like gender, identity, and social resistance. As one of the few women rappers carving space in a male-dominated genre, Venomiss is not just making music — she’s making a statement, through songs like BNS and LDMT.
She came into the hip-hop industry at the very young age of three. However, she trained in classical music. “My older brother used to listen to ‘90s hip-hop, artists like Snoop Dogg, 50 Cent and Dr Dre. They inspired me a lot, exposing me to the culture. I began learning those lyrics and singing those songs,” she says.
What she loves about hip-hop is the lyricism, the way people use it as an avenue of expression, as catharsis. “It’s how they explore their lives and hardships through rhythm and rhyme. Rap is an expression of everyday life, its joys and hardships, ups and downs,” she feels.
Ameekha started writing her own songs when she was in 12th standard. She was an ardent listener of Malayalam underground rappers such as Asuran, Street Academics, etc. But she didn’t know a single female rapper. “And that made me think, why not give it a try? I am part of a legacy of women who aren’t afraid to express themselves. I hope more women will rise to take the baton forward. I am a proud Malayali, Malayalam is my mother tongue, and I keep that very central to the music I make.”
‘Verses speak louder’, that is her tagline.
Aditi Nair (MXRDERROR)
Aditi Nair R (MXDERROR), formerly known as Rap Kid India, is one of the youngest rappers, singers, lyricists and composers in the state. At 20, she holds the title ‘Rising Singing Sensation’, a recognition levied by the Asia Book of Records 2020.
Her debut as a playback singer was in the Malayalam movie Kilometers and Kilometers. She has also written and sung music for the movie Kho-Kho. Her introduction to the genre was through a song by Nicki Minaj, the American rap sensation.
“One time, a radio programme played Side to Side, by Ariana Grande and Nicki Minaj. Hearing Minaj rap was such a contrast to the singing. It really got me curious about hip-hop. When I was 11, I wrote my first hip-hop track called Feel Free to Dream. It featured the word ‘dream’ in 27 different languages,” says Aditi.
When she was 16, she made a mark for herself in the film industry, by turning lyricist, composer, and playback singer for the 2021 Malayalam movie Kho-Kho. Deeply inspired by the likes of Michael Jackson, Aditi strives to keep her work connected to her roots by blending the depth, innate rhythm and storytelling of Kerala’s culture and language.
When asked for three words that define her music, she replies instantly — “Raw. Reflective. Rebirth”.
“Kerala’s rap scene is still growing. But that’s what makes it so exciting. It’s real and unfiltered. For women, it’s both a challenge and an opportunity,” she says, adding that, “there’s a strength in being seen and heard in a space that wasn’t always built for us.”
According to her, many believe women can’t rap with the same intensity or edge as men. “Or that we’re doing it for attention. Others expect us to stick to ‘safe’ topics. But the truth is, we’ve got stories that hit just as hard, if not harder,” she explains.
Being a woman rapper means constantly breaking stereotypes, she feels. And the local rap scene, she says, has definitely shown support.
“However, it is different with the broader audience who see our videos. The constant sexualisation is a hindrance. There’s a real need for people to shift how they view women — not as objects, but as voices,” she signs off.