New Delhi: Vishal is a bouncer and a dreamer. The 22-year-old from Hisar, who has been working in Gurugram since the age of 16, dreams of managing crowds abroad. None of his friends or the bouncers he knows have been to a foreign country. Vishal wants to change that, and has put Dubai and Thailand on top of his list. He isn’t quite sure about Malaysia though.
“There’s more money to be made abroad. That’s the main reason. But I’d like to go to a new place to also learn something new,” he says. Besides being a bouncer at high-profile events, Vishal occasionally serves as a personal security guard. On a good day, he makes between Rs 10,000-15,000. On average, he earns about Rs 50,000 every month––a chunk of which goes to his family back in Hisar. He has the classic bouncer build, tall and broad.
Recently, the Haryana government advertised positions for 50 bouncers in Dubai, and Vishal could suddenly see his dream getting fulfilled. Then he read the fine print in the government offer and all his hopes came crashing down. Since bouncers are often typecast as thugs, the government’s two-year contract contains riders for applicants: fluency in English and tattoo-free. Vishal doesn’t fit the bill.
The government’s advertisement announcing jobs for construction workers in Israel, bouncers in Dubai, and nurses in the UK received a lukewarm response in the state. According to an official in the Haryana Kaushal Rozgar Nigam, they received only 3,000 applicants, even though they were offering over 10,000 jobs. The government has extended the last date for applications, with the last day now in January.
The overwhelming majority of jobs are for construction workers in Israel. The requirements for bouncers are stringent, but the monthly salary is about Rs 1.5 lakh. In addition to being tattoo-free and English-speaking, the eligible candidate must be at least 6 feet tall, have no scars, and be “smart.” They should also have a “good understanding of legal guidelines and public safety” in the UAE, a dramatically different nation, culturally and ethnically.
It’s impossible for them to get their passports verified, Sunny, owner of Devil Bouncers in Gurugram
While aspiration may be alive, according to Sunny, owner of Devil Bouncers and Personal Security Services in Gurugram, the issue is that many bouncers have FIRs against them. “Cases lag jaate hain. They’re with the client and the client talks badly to them. Then they get into fights,” he says casually. “It’s impossible for them to get their passports verified.”
According to Sunny, this is the case with about 90 per cent of bouncers he has worked with. The clients in question are bar owners and event managers, and the fights start off innocently, but end in arguments and sometimes violence.
Deepak Bahadur, a 36-year-old bouncer from Nepal, once lifted Indian rapper Yo Yo Honey Singh, (yo-yo not needed) held him overhead, and placed him in his car. The fans were going berserk and he had to get involved. “There was no maar-pit [big fight], par kuch haatha-pai to hui thi [but a small altercation did take place],” Bahadur says.
Bouncers are a common fixture in the news, sometimes for breaking up clashes between customers outside clubs, other times for causing them. Every few months, a video of a bar brawl goes viral, splattered across Instagram and X.
Despite their reported inability, according to Jawahar Yadav, Haryana Chief Minister Khattar’s OSD, in the villages of Haryana, young men are lining up to go abroad –- to the point where it’s led to the proliferation of dalals. “What we are doing is eliminating the middleman,” he says. “This ends the dalal system. They don’t have to spend 4-5 lakhs in going abroad.”
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Fatehpur Beri bouncers
The bouncers are physically imposing and full of caste-pride. Vishal’s WhatsApp status reads “Bouncer Vishal Jaat” with a bicep emoji. But more often than not, they aren’t treated in a manner befitting their personas.
Between the high gates of farmhouses, wedding banquet halls and traffic that moves at a snail’s pace is Rinku’s Gym. It’s easily missable, but training inside are the men of Fatehpur Beri village. Their biceps strain against their too-tight T-shirts, and all of them have versions of the same haircut—sharply mown undercuts. They lift weights to the rhythms of Punjabi EDM music, stopping to converse and compare.
Their bodies have already been whittled down to some version of perfection, even as they continue to spend hours at the gym and eat enough eggs to sustain a small family. After all, excellence doesn’t come easy. Each V-shaped body—alarmingly broad on top and correspondingly narrow at the bottom—is an ongoing project.
Fatehpur Beri, with a population of about 6,000 on the outskirts of Chhatarpur, belongs to a predominantly Gurjar community. And it was once described as the birthplace of bouncers. It’s an image they’re now trying to shed.
Typecast as thugs, they’re guards outside glamorous venues—sometimes going unnoticed, other times objects of aggression. Parties are more luxurious than ever, and brawls are more frequent. Now with the Haryana government’s offer, they have the opportunity to go abroad. However, aspiration is accompanied by a lack of awareness and zero knowledge of what the move entails.
“People used to think we were gundas [goons]. We’re from good families; it [hooliganism] is not something we could’ve ever done in the open. We were protecting people, but they used to call us gundas,” says Anu Gurjar, a towering 6-foot-5 figure with a perfectly trimmed bread matching his chiseled jawline.
These men started out as bouncers, but are now proprietors of the doors they once stood outside. Lala Gurjar currently owns six clubs spread across Gurugram, the majority of which are in Sahara Mall –– Sapphire, Blue Rate, Vampire, and Queens. He struggles to name all, and his ‘brothers’ readily chime in, helpfully adding WTC and Coco.
Everyone knows now that it’s a dirty industry to be part of. That’s why I got into event management, Sunny
“Why should I only be a bouncer? I used to maintain the crowd, and the owner used to give me various responsibilities,” he says. “Toh maine apna hi kar liya [so I made the club my own].
Sunny is well aware of Fatehpur Beri’s exit from the industry. They’re not the only ones. “Everyone knows now that it’s a dirty industry to be part of. That’s why I got into event management. It’s also why I don’t hire on a permanent basis. I don’t want to shoulder that burden,” he says.
For the men of Fatehpur Beri, money has never been an issue. Farm and agricultural lands in a city that is home to palatial farmhouses and one of New Delhi’s foremost ‘up and coming’ cultural hubs are worth many crores. One resident, who was a once a bodybuilder, claims he is sitting on a land worth Rs 60 crore. What they thought they’d acquire as bouncers was respectability, and a social status reflective of the kind of capital they command. Some of them have leased and sold land.
“First, we used to depend on wrestling. But there are few jobs for wrestlers, and we need to use our bodies. We thought our only option was to work as bouncers. But we’ve received a lot [respect and security] as physical education teachers,” he says.
Men from the village are convinced that there’s something in the water. How else could their boys and men be this strong?
Anu Gurjar, one of many strong men, now spends time managing various clubs. As a child, the centre of his life was his neighbourhood akhada, then he shifted to the gym. Now, even the gym has been relegated to a corner of his life because he has to manage the several clubs he owns. He negotiates with investors and co-owners, handles customers—and is responsible for the 15-20 bouncers he has hired.
He looks at the last seven years as a walk on a path that was treacherous at first. But the more he walked, the wider it became, and the more opportunities opened up. He’s currently looking at starting an import-export business with Nepal as the base. He refuses to divulge more details.
Anu has stakes in clubs, bars, and lounges peppered around Delhi NCR: Skyy in Ansal Plaza, a couple of properties in Hauz Khas Village, and one in Noida. He’s currently making inroads in Gurugram. He’s bought a Prince Paan franchise, a go-to “premium” paan store. “It’s the highest building in Gurugram, where Virat Kohli has a house,” he says.
As for the men he now gives opportunities to, “They are mostly boys from Fatehpur and Noida –– my own Gurjar people,” he says. “They need work and I pay them salaries at par with the industry. So, they stay loyal to me.” However, according to Sunny, the state that houses the maximum number of bouncers is now Haryana. They’re predominantly Jats, who come from Hisar, Jind, and Sonipat.
While the erstwhile bouncers of Fatehpur Beri have moved on to bigger and better things, the industry is still burgeoning. The number of bars, clubs, and high-class events has mushroomed and there’s immense pressure from owners to create a ‘safe and secure’ environment. New Delhi is especially notorious for being dangerous and unsafe for women. Restaurateurs and club owners pumping in crores of rupees don’t want to risk their investments.
Bouncers need to be professional. They need to be able to speak to high-class clients, Sham Singh, Secura Security owner
Sham Singh, owner and director of Secura Security, pays his bouncers between Rs 25,000 and Rs 30,000 for every eight hours of duty. There are certain compulsions in place. The bouncers need to be at least 25 and not older than 35. And of course, they must be beefed up. But at the same time, they can’t be only brawn. Like cricketers and supermodels, bouncers also hit their prime, following which they’re phased out. Their careers begin to wane, and the quality of jobs begins to dip.
“When we’re hiring for events in New Delhi, behaviour is important. Bouncers need to be professional. They need to be able to speak to high-class clients,” Singh drawls, lounging in a cramped, poky office in Dwarka’s Ramphal Chowk.
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The Haryana touch
The government’s advertisement about overseas employment has also raised alarms, with some questioning whether it insinuates a shortage of homegrown jobs. But for Yadav, these are what he calls “lay people.” “These are not business owners or researchers. They’re not going to create any jobs. A construction worker in India will be a construction worker in Israel,” he says, referring to an apparent lack of growth.
While Haryana government officials are convinced that the state’s youth are desperate to go abroad, through whatever means possible, some in the bouncer industry think otherwise – they think it’s an aspiration that is impractical.
“If you ask them, they’ll say yes. But they don’t know what it entails. They aren’t willing to sign even a paper,” says Sunny. “If I put out a message asking for five boys needed abroad, everyone will say yes. Par phir koi na koi locha ho jata hai [but then some issue always arises].”
There is not much difference in the salaries either. The presumption is that there’s more money abroad. But Sunny knows a couple of boys working in Thailand currently, and they’re earning around Rs 50,000. “This much you can easily make here,” he says. There’s a sense of romance and dreaminess associated with going abroad but without real-world information.
“They’ll (bouncers) have to do so much work before they go. Especially on their English skills,” says Singh, despite the fact Secura Security has no operations abroad.
While there may not be an overt competition between New Delhi and Haryana bouncers, there’s a difference in perception. Those working in the national capital are perceived as being more educated and polished — whereas Haryana bouncers are stereotyped as rowdier and more aloof.
The ‘problem’ for Singh arises when “Haryana-type”, as he calls them, enter the mix. “They have that Haryana touch,” he complains. They come from smaller towns and villages and consequently do not have the language skills, or the social skills that his clients have come to expect.
These bouncers are employed at film shoots, or at other locations where the priority is crowd management–wherein language skills and social markers are not on full display.
Sunny, of Devil Bouncers and Personal Security Services, has about 100 bouncers on call. None are permanent employees. They’re hired depending on when a call from a client comes in. Funnily enough, in a job that provides security, there is none –– Secura and Devil use WhatsApp groups with “trusted bouncers”, and those who are available are subsequently put on duty.
Secura hires security guards as well, and despite the glitz and access to the high life that comes with being a bouncer, Singh finds that young men prefer to become security guards. The stakes are lower, and the conditions are less demanding. There’s no height requirement, no gruelling gym schedule, and no merciless diet to abide by. The body doesn’t have to be pruned to perfection. There are many permanent jobs even if the salary isn’t as much.
But for the original gym-bros, who were wrested into the spotlight over a decade ago, it defines the contours of their identity. “We were never just bouncers. We’re warriors,” declares Anu Gurjar.
(Edited by Ratan Priya)