The Hustle Behind the Swagger

Before the lights, the music videos, and the fashion spreads, Hanumankind was just a kid with headphones too big for his head and verses too bold for his time. Born Sooraj Cherukat in Kerala but raised across continents—from dusty Lagos to sun-baked Houston—he was never meant to stay still. His father’s oil industry job kept the family globe-trotting, and with every new country came a new rhythm: the bounce of Afrobeat, the pulse of Gulf club hits, and eventually, the gritty soul of Southern U.S. hip-hop.

It was Houston that cracked him open. That’s where Sooraj met the booming basslines of UGK, Project Pat, DJ Screw. At school, he’d freestyle under his breath during math class. At night, he'd listen to mixtapes like scripture. But no one—least of all himself—could’ve guessed that this obsession would one day take him to stages like Coachella.

When he returned to India in 2012 to study business at PSG College in Coimbatore, music still wasn’t the dream. The dream was something solid, secure—maybe finance, maybe fitness. He worked corporate hours at Goldman Sachs, hit the gym as a personal trainer, and dabbled in marketing on the side. On paper, he was a success story in motion. But off the clock? That’s when Hanumankind began to form.

The transformation from Sooraj to HMK didn’t happen overnight. It started in tiny Bengaluru studios, at sweaty open-mic nights, spitting bars into handheld mics, his voice fighting feedback and crowd noise. In 2017, when he walked into an underground battle tournament and left the crowd stunned, people started asking: “Who is this guy?”

By 2019, he dropped Kalari, his debut EP—a sharp, sonically rich project that blended English lyrics with desi grit and spiritual undertones. Tracks like “Daily Dose” weren’t just songs; they were declarations. He wasn’t trying to fit into Indian hip-hop—he was carving his own lane. That same year, he hit the NH7 Weekender stage. No big entourage, no special effects—just bars and presence. The kind that silences a festival crowd.

But Hanumankind didn’t stop at music. The man had vision. Slowly, his wardrobe evolved—camp-collar shirts layered with gold chains, streetwear silhouettes with Indian embellishments. He began working with stylists and designers like Falguni Shane Peacock, stepping into editorial shoots like they were album covers. He wasn’t just rapping anymore—he was performing in every frame.

And while the music world began buzzing, Sooraj was building an empire in the background. Brand deals started rolling in. He invested in real estate across Austin and South India. Rumor has it he owns a rubber plantation back in Malappuram—call it poetic or ironic, but the man quite literally planted roots. When asked about the money, he’s quiet—but those close to him estimate a net worth in the multi-millions, with streams of income flowing as steadily as his verses.

Today, Hanumankind is more than an artist. He’s a movement. A genreless storyteller. A fashion renegade. A businessman with an 808 heart. But it all began with one restless boy, a passport full of stamps, and a dream too loud to ignore. And trust—he’s just getting started.

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