An intimate, insightful portrait of Jimmy Shergill—an actor of rare restraint and integrity—by Khalid Mohamed, tracing his choices, silences, collaborations, and quiet excellence across cinema, television, and life, far removed from hype yet rich in substance.

This in-depth profile of Jimmy Shergill explores his understated brilliance, career-defining performances, collaborations with leading Indian filmmakers, personal philosophy, and refusal to chase celebrity. A reflective piece on consistency, humility, and enduring class in Indian cinema.

“I’ve always gone with the director, acted in accordance with what has been conceived. If I have any reservations, those are discussed at the pre-production preparations. If my ideas are okay with the team, fine, or else no issues.”
“Before starting on Mukkabaaz, I felt that my character should have one blind eye, having been a boxer himself in the past. Anurag Kashyap, after shooting the scene both ways, went along with my suggestion, and said, ‘Throw one of your contact lenses away.’ Such incidents happen perhaps by luck, by chance.”

“I never let go of half a promising script, at times even if I have to reschedule my dates for other ongoing projects. And that’s only if there’s a consensus between all the parties involved. I could never ditch anyone just for my self-interests. By the way, I don’t have any qualms about portraying even a grandfather, since prosthetics can work miracles today.”
Those are just a bunch-full of quotes from the usually taciturn Jimmy Shergill over voice mail. He was filming a TV serial for Netflix in the remote locations of Madhya Pradesh, packing up late at night.

Why Jimmy Shergill Remains Underrated
It was high time that I had pinned him down. Ergo this column on the grossly undervalued Jimmy Shergill, which should have been written years ago.

On re-watching his brief but supremely stealth act as a small-town overlord in Anurag Kashyap’s Mukkabaaz as well as the TV courtroom drama, Your Honor, I could detect that his sustained approach towards acting hasn’t altered. No grandstanding, no gimmicky mannerisms, no belaboured effort whatsoever, always belting out class acts.

And to think that he once wanted to join the Armed Forces, had cleared the exams with high marks, but was turned down because of the inordinately high number of candidates. Next, he wanted to graduate in biology, but on the first day in class, was asked to dissect a cockroach. Repulsed, he switched to economics, hoping to do his Business Management next.

During his growing-up years, war movie classics and cowboy westerns—like The Great Escape, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Young Guns and The Good, The Bad and The Ugly—formed his movie diet. Today he cites The Godfather series, Apocalypse Now and the vintage classic, Casablanca, among his favourites.

Born Jasjit Singh Gill, 55 years ago in Gorakhpur, Uttar Pradesh, to a family of aristocratic landowners, he has never crowed about the fact that the legendary painter, Amrita Sher-Gil, was his paternal grand-aunt.
To that his remark is, “She has been an abiding presence in our extended family, some of them do own a few of her artworks. (Late) Vivan Sundaram, an iconic artist himself, her sister’s son, guarded the value of her priceless legacy.”
“Her artworks of village women have been one of a kind,” he elaborates. “In fact, whenever my parents would paint, there was a perceptible influence of Amrita Sher-Gil. They wouldn’t copy her but adopt something close to her style.”
With a light chuckle, he adds, “Lately, I heard that Mira Nair is making Amrita Sher-Gil’s biopic. Somewhere within me, I hope she casts me as her grandfather. I’ve been told that I resemble and behave like him. But then I can’t push myself into a project, irrespective of its size and scale, it’s just on my wish-list.”

From Maachis Onwards
To go back in time, without any fanfare, he had made his debut in Gulzar’s Maachis (1996). The director had been approached by Jimmy for the post of an assistant director. Instead, he was asked to choose between three roles, and he became Jaimal Singh, a significant character in the fictionalised narrative centred on the Sikh insurgency following the assassination of Mrs Gandhi in 1984.

For the actor, “Maachis seems just like yesterday. I remember every moment with gratitude, be it a dramatic shot or being a part of the ‘Chappa Chappa Charkha Chale’. And Gulzar saab had told all of us newcomers beforehand—don’t let the fate of the film become your fate. If it becomes a hit, don’t let it go to your head. If it doesn’t, don’t go into a depression. Just work as hard and as diligently as you can.”
Since then, Jimmy Shergill has featured in over 80 films, incarnating characters from the romantic campus youth in Mohabbatein and tough-talking police officers to the dude who never quite reaches a walk-into-the-sunset happy ending. Unwaveringly praised by the critics and regarded as an ace actor by the ticket-paying public, he should have been in a cushier zone. Alas, he isn’t. Reason?

The Actor Filmmakers Trust
Perhaps Jimmy Shergill has never craved publicity, promotion or hankered after magazine covers. He is taken for granted, always expected to deliver the goods, which he has with perfect professionalism. Not surprisingly, then, he has been the actor-to-go-to for a range of filmmakers. Count among them Raju Hirani (Munna Bhai series), Tigmanshu Dhulia (Haasil and the Saheb Biwi aur Gangster franchise), Neeraj Pandey (A Wednesday, Special 26 and the TV show Sikandar ka Muqaddar) and Anand L Rai (the two-parter Tanu Weds Manu as well as the romedy Happy Bhaag Jayegi and its sequel produced by Rai).

Indeed, the A-lister helmer Shoojit Sircar, who made his debut close to 20 years ago with the little-remembered war drama Yahaan, showcased the actor in the central role of an army commander posted in the strife-ridden valley of Kashmir. “That was another kind of unforgettable trip altogether,” the actor recalls. “Shoojit wanted to shoot in some very volatile locations of Kashmir, where I’d shot before. I was wearing an army officer’s uniform to boot and there could have been a flare-up at any corner. Yet Shoojit stuck to his decision, shot with hidden cameras in nearby houses, and his risk-taking showed up impactfully. Shoojit cast me in his next film, Shoebite, headlining Amitabh Bachchan, but it hasn’t been released because of legal hassles over copyright issues.”

Personal Life and Parenting
Married in 2001 to Priyanka Puri, the first girl he fell in love with and courted for five years (“There was an objection from her family that film industry types are not reliable”), he remembers that Yash Chopra and his son Uday flew from Mumbai at short notice to be at the wedding.
Jimmy’s 20-year-old son, Veer—who could have been a sportsman in football or paddling—enrolled in a film school in LA and is now interning with a director. Veer has been allowed to make his own career choice without an iota of pressure from his parents.

Unlike most Bollywood celebrities who tend to be limelight moths, Jimmy would rather meet up with his close friends. And he reads every night, before sleeping, be it The History of the Mongols, the Upanishads or a John le Carré and Stephen King thriller.
When I asked him why he’s shy of the media, his response was, “This could be my fault maybe. I’ve never solicited interviews and photo-sessions. I guess I didn’t ever pick up the tricks of the trade.”

If he’s quizzed on why he has far too frequently blended into the acting ensemble’s woodwork, he has shrugged, “I’ve no ego hassles about multi-starrers, as long as my role has semblance of substance. At times, I’ve just done a handful of scenes. If I’d insisted only on playing the hero, I would have been jobless. Moreover, I’d have missed out on the Munna Bhai and Tanu Weds Manu films.”

Money, Production, and Core Competence
At one point, Jimmy Shergill had turned producer of Punjabi films, which command a huge market, especially overseas. If he doesn’t venture into the area of production any more, it’s because he’s not business-savvy. “I can’t tell you how crazy it is to get into finances, you have to be hands-on 24x7,” he explains, adding, “My core competence—if I may call it that—is acting, not investments or money-making.”
Okay, so how can I vouch for the fact that he’s unusually cool about the money factor? Speaking from personal experience, when I asked him to portray the third end of a love triangle in Silsiilay, he agreed to take on the role without a second thought, and did it practically for free.
On location in Dubai, where we filmed extensively for a fortnight, he was infallibly punctual and focused. He would only ask for a strong cup of coffee at the pre-shoot breakfast table.

Jimmy Shergill, who’s travelled to Dubai often, was helpful in scouting locations and obtaining permissions to film at the Jumeirah beach. Uncharacteristically, he was hesitant about performing a scene, and mumbled if it could be avoided, since it involved sharing an intimate moment with his co-star Riya Sen.

The next day, he apologised, “My fault, please accept my apologies. Just let me gulp down a double espresso and I’ll do that scene today.” Which he did, in a single perfect take, and remarked bashfully, “An actor should never say no to his director.”
I don’t know many actors who would offer an apology. Subsequently, we’ve discussed several projects which we could collaborate on. He’s always been gung-ho, even if the film’s budget-plan was merely a bag of peanuts.
To conclude, Jimmy Shergill knows the importance of being earnest. And I’m sure that he will be acknowledged, loud and clear, as an actor who has consistently done the right thing.