Huma Qureshi, who believes that Mumbai’s show business isn’t a man’s exclusive world anymore, has belted out uber-powerful performances in the shows Delhi Crime Season 3 and the series Maharani. She has also spoken out frankly in defence of the much-maligned paparazzi on a TV interview. Over, then, to a conversation with Khalid Mohamed on her growth as an actor from her debut in Gangs of Wasseypur, and more.

This extensive interview with Huma Qureshi explores her performances in Delhi Crime Season 3 and Maharani, her journey from Gangs of Wasseypur, gender shifts in Indian cinema, OTT culture, paparazzi ethics, accent work, and the evolving power of women-led storytelling.

As you know, the tables have turned. Lead actors of neither gender are confined to goody-two-shoes roles in films or web series. In fact, practically most of the actors, shaded in charcoal-black roles, end up burgling the scenes.

Watching the somewhat tepid Season 3 of the otherwise remarkably forceful Delhi Crime series, Shefali Shah is flawless as ever as the tireless, upright cop uncovering heinous, despicable cases. However, I was jolted out of the tried-and-tested dramaturgy by the no-hesitations-barred performance by Huma Qureshi as the inter-state ringleader of a sex-trafficking racket.

Toxically vituperative and unapologetic, the actor had obviously taken on a part where others of her ilk may have feared to tread. Inexorably, that prompted me to watch her other show, Maharani, in which she portrays a simpleton rural wife and mother who scales up the political ladder to transform into a state’s Chief Minister, whose diktats amount to “Jo nirnay suna diya, woh suna diya.” 

Both Delhi Crime 3 and Maharani affirm that the actor has evolved majorly, ever since her eye-catching film debut in the two-parter Gangs of Wasseypur (2012).

Roots, Reinvention, and Resilience

My interview with Huma Qureshi, a History graduate from Delhi University’s Gargi College, indicated an actor who has brushed aside the mandatory disappointments in her career, which had kicked off in the capital as a model in ad films, stints in theatre, and working with NGOs for social reform.

The daughter of a family which runs a chain of restaurants, Saleem’s, she headed for Mumbai on being offered a leading role in a project titled Junction, which was shelved eventually. Here she is nevertheless, also ignoring the unverified blizzard of rumours connecting her with film director Mudassir Aziz and actor Rachit Singh.

Excerpts from a Q and A with Ms Qureshi:

Your performance as Meena, the Badi Didi in Delhi Crime 3 — where did that ferocity come from? Any role model or reference point?

Badi Didi came completely from my imagination, not imitation. I didn’t base her on any real person. I built her from scratch: her hurt, her power, her delusions, her self-righteousness. I wanted her to be terrifying because she genuinely believes she’s doing the right thing — that conviction itself creates ferocity.
And I’m someone who looks for small, odd inspirations. I remember watching the American psychological thriller Kiss the Girls (1977), in which the villain kisses every girl before killing her. That has stayed with me.

And Leonardo DiCaprio once said that to stay in character, he literally spat in a scene because the moment demanded it. Such instances remind you that unpredictability can be very real, very human. So with Badi Didi, I allowed myself that freedom — the weirdness, the violence, the softness, the madness. That’s how the character came alive.

Since you were born and brought up in Delhi, did the more than a century-old infamous red-light area of G.B. Road ever register with you?

Every big city has its dark corners. As a Delhi girl, I was aware of G.B. Road the way you’re aware of certain realities from a distance. You know it exists, you hear stories, but you don’t engage with it.

For the show, we didn’t treat any element literally. We focused on the fictional world and the emotional truth of these characters, not the geography.

There has been some criticism about your Haryanvi accent… did you have a coach?

Of course, I worked with dialect coaches for accuracy and consistency. And honestly, mixed reactions are normal. I take feedback positively; I’m all ears when my audience responds.

Accents have always been my strength because I come from Delhi, where you grow up surrounded by multiple dialects of Hindi. In Delhi Crime 3, I used a subtle Haryanvi tone, and in Maharani I switched to a Bihari dialect. But beyond the accent, what mattered most to me was the grounding of Badi Didi’s inner world.

Craft, Conviction, and Character

The first season of Delhi Crime was said to be inspired by the Nirbhaya case… do you think justice was done to the subject?

The show is a fictional narrative. It may take thematic cues from real events, but it isn’t a recreation. As actors, our responsibility is to treat the material with respect and sensitivity.

I’ve always been a fan of the franchise. The way Delhi Crime captures the nuances, its research, the humaneness, is remarkable. After being part of the current season, I’ve realised how much hard work and study goes into every detail. They’ve done a fantastic job presenting reality without sensationalising it.

For Maharani in its fourth season now, did you draw from the real-life personality of Rabri Devi?

No, never. My character, Rani Bharti, is purely fictional. I didn’t use any real-life reference points. I built her from instinct — as a woman from Bihar, a mother of three, suddenly pushed into politics. It’s actually a very emotional journey when you think about it.

She’s not very educated, she’s not worldly, so I kept asking myself: How would this woman react to these situations? How would she evolve? How would power change her? I embodied her strictly from that perspective and not from any real political figure. As an actor, I wouldn’t ever mimic anyone. That would be too facetious and fake.

Were you offered a role in the ensemble cast of Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Heeramandi?

(Laughs) I keep hearing this! So, I would just go with the words, “No comments.”

On second thoughts, the comment is I love Mr Sanjay Leela Bhansali and would happily make myself available whenever he called me. I loved every minute of working with him on the special song (Suna hai unko shikayat bahut hain) in Gangubai and I think there is much left to be explored creatively together. 

Doesn’t overexposure on OTT, the streaming channels, worry you?

Not at all. If the performance is strong, the platform doesn’t matter. And I’m balancing films, shows streaming on channels, simultaneously immersing myself in films as well as content production. So, I don’t feel overexposed at all. In fact, I feel creatively active.

Considering your family background, were they okay with your film career?

My family comes from a food business background, yes, and they’re protective, but at the same time, they’ve always been consistently supportive. Saqib (Saleem), my brother and I were always encouraged to dream big. The only rule at home was: work hard, keep yourself rooted in reality.

How did your first break happen? Any struggle?

Gangs of Wasseypur changed my life. I was this young Delhi girl featuring in several ad films. During an ad shoot, Anurag Kashyap was on the sets, I was wearing the full ‘ad shoot make-up,’ and he pointed at my face and asked, “What is this?”

In typical Delhi attitude I told him, “Mera dasva ad hai, aapka pehla hoga.” I think that’s the moment when he decided I was perfect for his film. He could detect a certain attitude and rawness in me. It wasn’t dramatic, it was just an impromptu moment that changed my life forever.

Besides Wasseypur 1 and 2, which films and shows are you proud of?

Maharani, Badlapur, Leila, Delhi Crime 3, Single Salma, Jolly LLB, Monica, O My Darling, each one of them was a learning experience. But Mohsina from Wasseypur will always be closest to my heart.

Okay, so you’ve been into writing and production. Any projects coming up?

Yes! Under our Saleem Siblings banner, the big one right now is Baby Do Die Do. I’m producing it and also playing a female assassin, which I’ve never attempted before. It’s stylish, twisted, and allows me to tap a new side within me as an actor. Production has made me involved hands-on; it’s empowering to back stories I truly believe in.

Any dream projects or ideal role?

Any role that scares me a little. Anything that pushes me into unknown territory. I love layered characters with their contradictions, flaws, fire. If the script is great, I’m in.

Which female actors have inspired you? Which is the first film you remember seeing?

The inspirations have been Tabu, Meryl Streep, Madhuri Dixit and Sridevi — women who can change the energy of a room with a single expression. And the first film I remember watching in a theatre was Hum Aapke Hain.. Koun! with my family.

Are there any books which have impacted you?

Brianna Wiest’s The Mountain Is You, Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things, and, to be honest, any engrossing crime thriller. I’m a comfort reader.

Power, Politics, and the Present Moment

Does it matter being an outsider, unrelated to the film industry?

It matters only if you let it define you. Yes, outsiders work harder and hustle longer. But talent and persistence eventually cut through.

Your name is often mentioned among the circles of big banners… then silence. Why?

It happens to every actor. Meetings happen, discussions happen, and sometimes projects don’t move forward. That’s okay by me; the right films find you at the right time.

Haven’t your parents ever pressured you to marry or join the family business?

Ha, ha, never ever! My parents just want me to be happy in work, in life, in everything. That’s the only expectation.

Is filmmaking still a man’s world? Any unpleasant situations?

By and large the film industry is changing; it’s not an exclusive man’s world anymore. There are more women directors, writers, producers and showrunners. As for unpleasant situations, they exist in every profession, but I’ve learned to counter them firmly with grace.

There has been a recurring buzz about your marriage to a director and liaisons. Any truth in them?

Believe me, they’re just a figment of someone’s fertile imagination. I don’t respond to gossip, which is part of the territory. When there’s something real to share, I’ll announce it myself.

Of late, in the course of a TV interview, you’ve been frank, at the cost of being ‘politically incorrect’, stating that actors themselves call up the paparazzi to be seen and heard — that actors need them and vice versa.

Nothing ‘politically incorrect’ about it. What I said is already a well-known fact. And without alluding to anyone else, I was speaking purely from my own personal experience. Suppose I’m wearing a certain type of dress and the paparazzi is trying to get a cheesy angle, that’s not nice. At times they do cross those lines, but if I politely request them not to use those shots, they say, “All right ma’am, no problems.”

Everyone is doing their job; it’s the ecosystem today. Take the media in its entirety, we have a certain responsibility to talk to one another with mutual respect. If I’m asked a question, say at a press meeting, which invades my privacy, or anything which I’m not comfortable with, that’s not on.

As a newcomer I used to be sehmi hui si but now I can call out the journalist to say, “Excuse me sir… or ma’am… that’s disrespectful,” and it ends there.

Specifically with the paparazzi, I have a healthy relationship. Let’s not lie. When we need them for film promos or to communicate some aspect of ourselves, we do call upon them. So I wouldn’t throw the paps under the bus. My genuine belief is, “Na badtameezi karo, na badtameezi hone do.”

What are your expectations from yourself in 2026?

I’m genuinely excited for next year. There’s been plenty of work which I’ve poured my heart and soul into. Some new chapters are just beginning. I feel as if I’m entering a phase where I will know myself better as an actor and as a person. That makes the work way more fun than it already is. It feels like the perfect time to fly without a shred of fear.