Hon. Union Minister for Food Processing Industries and Lok Janshakti Party (Ram Vilas) chief, Chirag Paswan, speaks about his journey from films to politics, the lessons he inherited from his late father – the legendary politician Ram Vilas Paswan, navigating personal and political setbacks, and carrying forward his father’s legacy while building his own identity in public life.
By Andrea CostaBir
As the son of Ram Vilas Paswan — one of India’s longest-serving and most influential political leaders — Chirag Paswan grew up watching public life from close quarters. He also experienced a deeply traditional Bihari family environment shaped by discipline, respect, and routine. Long before he entered politics himself, he remembers his father not as a national leader, but as someone who made time for PTA meetings, family dinners, games of ludo and carrom, and weekends spent cooking for the family despite an intensely demanding political career.
Before eventually stepping into Parliament, Chirag briefly explored Bollywood with ‘Miley Naa Miley Hum’, a phase he now describes as the experience that gave him clarity about where he truly belonged. A political campaign in Bihar soon became the turning point that drew him into active politics, eventually leading to his first Lok Sabha victory in 2014.
But the years following Ram Vilas Paswan’s death in 2020 became the most challenging phase of his life. From internal party splits and losing the party symbol to rebuilding a political organisation from scratch, the period tested him both emotionally and politically. In this interview, he speaks candidly about loss, resilience, meditation, public scrutiny, caste politics in Bihar, and the pressure of carrying forward one of the most significant political legacies in contemporary Indian politics, while attempting to carve out his own path.
My memories with my father are very personal because I didn’t realise how big he was as a politician. We come from a traditional Bihari household where the respect for one’s father is immense. My direct interaction with him was almost nil. Communication with him usually happened through my mother. I started speaking to him directly only after I became a Member of Parliament and joined politics. Before that, even if I needed something, I would tell my mother and she would communicate it to him.
I had huge respect for him, to the extent that I never used to sit in front of him. My only response to anything he said was, “Ji, Papaji.” That was my communication with him. But one thing I remember very clearly is that as a father, he was always there for us no matter how busy he was. This is something I’m still learning — the kind of time management he had. I remember those yearly diaries and calendars people used to keep. On the 1st or 2nd of January, he would personally sit with a pen and mark all important dates — his marriage anniversary, my birthday, my sister’s birthday — and block those dates for the rest of the year. No appointments, no engagements, nothing.
He was always there for our PTA meetings. In the evenings, he made sure he came home by six or seven. We used to play ludo and carrom, and watch movies together. In that sense, he was a very handson father, always there for me, my sister, and my mother. On weekends, he used to cook for us… I think very few people know this, but he was a very good cook.
So he was a very homely, familyoriented person, yet a thorough professional. His commitment to work was extraordinary. The way he balanced both sides is something I’m still learning.
What personal values or habits did you inherit from your father that continue to shape your decisions today?
Continuing from where I started, time management is something I’m still trying to learn. Another thing is humility. I hope and believe I’ve inherited it, though I’m still working on it. I have never seen my father disrespect anybody, even the smallest worker in the party. He used to remember people by name, remember their issues and problems. His memory was better than any computer these days. That showed the kind of commitment he had towards his work.
Despite handling multiple responsibilities — family, party, ministry — he always met people with a smiling face and utmost humility, no matter how stressed or overworked he was. These are the qualities I’m still trying to work on within myself.
Before politics, you explored acting and appeared in ‘Miley Naa Miley Hum’. Looking back, how do you remember that phase of your life, and what did it teach you about yourself?
(Laughs) After the disaster that I did, the only thing that comes to my mind is, “Oh my God, how bad I was.” Thankfully Kangana was there, so things looked a little better, but even she couldn’t help because I was so bad.
Having said that, it taught me something important. Sometimes a wrong decision gives you clarity about what you truly want. After entering movies, I realised this wasn’t where my heart lay.
Today, whenever I interact with students in colleges and schools, I tell them: Follow your heart. The day your passion becomes your profession, there’s nothing like it. If you’re constantly looking at the watch, waiting for lunch break or the end of the day, it means you’re not enjoying your work.
I can relate to that now. Back then, if I had a call time at 12 noon, I would wake up at 12 noon. That’s how disinterested I was. But today, if I have a meeting at 8 a.m, I wake up at 4:30 a.m or 5 a.m to prepare, meditate, and work out. I’ve become more organised because I genuinely enjoy what I do. Even if I’m working 18–20 hours a day, I don’t feel tired because I enjoy it.
Doing that movie gave me clarity that I wasn’t meant for films. I knew that once I entered politics, I’d be tagged a ‘nepo kid’, but what else could I have done? I tried acting. Politics is something I grew up seeing because of my father, so it comes naturally to me. That’s why I enjoy it so much. Looking back, my movie days gave me clarity that I’m meant for politics, and that’s why I’m enjoying and loving what I do today.
Your decision to move from films to politics was a significant shift. Was there a defining moment or conversation — perhaps with your father or family — that influenced this choice?
Yes, I remember very clearly how it all started. I was still in Mumbai, working on a few projects and meeting directors and writers. Then one morning, I got a call from my mother saying papa wasn’t well, so I came to Delhi to see him.
Looking back now, I sometimes feel papa had scripted it all. He was hospitalised at the time, and we were allied with the UPA. He got a call from Laluji, whose party was contesting a by-election in Maharajganj, Bihar. Laluji wanted papa to come campaign, but papa said he was hospitalised. Laluji said it would send the wrong message to voters if nobody represented him, and then immediately suggested, “At least send Chirag.”
By then my film had released, and the Bhojpuristyle song ‘Katto Gilehri’ had become popular in Bihar, so I was a somewhat known face there. Papa looked at me while speaking to him, and instantly I said yes.
When I went there, it was like tasting blood for the first time. I realised this is what truly excites me. It was my first time on a political stage, sharing it with a veteran like Laluji, and the response I got gave me clarity about the difference between reel life and real life.
In movies, you only know the audience reaction after release. Here, the feedback was instant — the cheering, the energy. That’s when I realised I should explore this further.
Later, papa asked me if I wanted to continue, and I said yes. Gradually I shifted into politics completely. In 2013, he gave me a major responsibility in the party by making me Chairman of the Parliamentary Board. Then there was no looking back. I contested my first election in 2014, became a Member of Parliament, and today I’m a thirdterm MP.
Family often plays a grounding role in public life. How has your family supported you through the transitions from actor to politician and then to party leader?
Family support gives you immense confidence, and it’s extremely important. Today, I understand what a big thing it was for my father — such a senior national leader and Union Minister — to support my decision to enter acting.
He was probably my biggest fan. Even after the movie released, despite how bad I know I was, he promoted me with pride. He organised screenings for journalists, party workers, and colleagues from Parliament. He was genuinely proud.
My family has supported every decision I’ve taken. After papa passed away, my mother became my strongest pillar of support. I went through a literal roller coaster after his death, and she stood firmly behind me. Her support is the reason I could survive that phase. I often tell her she became my biggest motivation to work harder and rebuild everything we lost.
I remember the night of June 13, 2021, when everything started collapsing. I lost my party, my family split, and I was left with nothing. My mother is an extremely strong woman, and I had never seen her emotional before. But that night, I saw tears in her eyes. I hugged her and told her, “I don’t know how, but one day I’ll bring everything back.”
Then on June 9, 2024, when I took oath as a Cabinet Minister, she came to my room, hugged me, and said, “Today you have given me back everything.”
So yes, she has been my biggest source of strength and motivation.
After your father’s passing in 2020, you stepped into a larger leadership role within the Lok Janshakti Party. On a personal level, how did you navigate that period of loss alongside political responsibility?
That phase from 2020 to 2024 was extremely difficult. I lost my father, there was a split in the party and eventually in the family as well. I was even thrown out of the house I had lived in for 34 years. Within three hours, all my belongings were out on the road.
It felt like holding sand in my hand — the tighter I tried to hold on, the more I lost. But I knew I had only two options: Either sit and cry, or fight. Because of my family — my mother and sister — I chose to fight.
The biggest thing that supported me, apart from my mother, was my mental strength. I started meditating intensely. Even today I meditate daily, but during those years I would meditate for over an hour because it gave me immense mental control.
Every morning I woke up to some new negative development — court cases, losing the party symbol, losing the party name. Meditation helped me stay balanced and prevented me from falling apart emotionally.
It taught me emotional stability. Bad news no longer drags me into depression, and good news doesn’t make me lose balance either. That neutrality gives a lot of inner strength
The formation of Lok Janshakti Party (Ram Vilas) marked a new chapter. How did that phase shape you both as a neta and as an individual?
After losing the original party name and symbol, I had to start from scratch. Initially, I could have stayed emotionally attached to the old identity, but instead I started looking at it differently. I realised that carrying my father’s name in the party title would give both emotional and political strength. So I applied to the Election Commission and formed a new party — Lok Janshakti Party (Ram Vilas).
The truth is, because of how pampered we “nepo kids” are while growing up, I had no idea how to actually start a political party. I didn’t know the procedures, organisational setup, or paperwork involved. I learnt everything during the process.
Starting afresh gave me a lot of personal satisfaction. Now our symbol is the helicopter. Many people sided with my uncle after the split, so this became a completely new beginning with a new team. At least it gave me excitement and purpose again — the feeling that I had something meaningful to build.
As a Member of Parliament from Hajipur, what moments with constituents have stayed with you on a human level?
My first constituency was Jamui. In 2014, I specifically wanted to contest from there because my party had never contested that seat before. I knew I would always be called a “nepo kid,” so I wanted the personal satisfaction of nurturing a completely new constituency myself.
Papa had suggested that I contest from Hajipur while he shifted elsewhere, but I told him that if I did that, I would never become a leader in my own right — I would always just remain “papa’s son.”
So I went to Jamui, worked there, and nurtured the constituency. In 2014, I won by 85,000 votes. In 2019, that margin increased to 2.5 lakh, which gave me confidence that people had genuinely accepted my work.
But after papa’s passing, when I came to Hajipur, the love I received there was deeply emotional. Almost every household had some story or relationship with my father because he represented Hajipur for so long. The way people there treat me — like their own son — makes me feel completely at home in Hajipur.
You are often seen as one of the younger voices in Indian politics. How do your personal experiences influence the way you connect with young people today?
I think the biggest thing is that I don’t try to act like a stereotypical politician. I just remain myself, and that makes the connection natural.
I also openly challenge many traditional political ideas. Bihar politics has long been dominated by caste equations, and many politicians hesitate to speak against it out of fear of losing vote banks. But I openly say that I don’t believe in caste politics.
I talk about “Bihar First, Bihari First” — an idea of inclusive development, not dividing people by caste or religion.
When I started traveling across Bihar as a party leader, I noticed that people introduced themselves first through caste identities — Brahmin, Rajput, Dalit, Muslim — but rarely simply as “Bihari.” That disturbed me because I grew up in Delhi and worked in Mumbai, so I never internalised those divisions.
I think young people connect with me because I openly say what I truly believe without fear of political consequences.
Public life comes with constant scrutiny. How do you maintain emotional balance and personal space amid political pressures?
I don’t allow everything to bother me. Meditation gives me a lot of self-control. There have been controversies around me, but I just remain myself. I don’t think twice before wearing a fancy jacket or a watch because of what social media might say. I don’t allow trolls to control my mood or my day. Every controversy has a lifespan. I’m more interested in increasing the shelf life of products in my Food Processing Ministry than increasing the shelf life of social media trolling.
This is something I learnt from my father as well. Whenever there was negativity around him, he would simply switch off the TV and disconnect from it. He never allowed negativity to enter his mental space. He used to tell my mother, “Tell him not to watch these debates. Tell him to switch off social media for two days.” He believed everything settles down with time, and I’ve learnt the same approach from him.
When you think of your father’s legacy, what is the one lesson or principle that you feel most responsible for carrying forward?
His legacy is enormous. I can’t even fully comprehend the weight of what I carry on my shoulders. Every day I pray that even if I cannot add to his legacy, I should at least never do anything that diminishes it. If I can preserve it with dignity, I’ll consider myself successful. In today’s political environment, it’s almost unbelievable that someone could spend over five decades in politics without even a single corruption allegation. That was my father. I simply want to uphold that standard and carry his legacy forward with honesty and dignity.
Outside of politics, what does a typical day in your personal life look like — what helps you unwind or stay grounded?
Meditation is a major part of my life. I also believe in staying fit and aging gracefully, so I work out regularly. Earlier I used to do heavy weight training, but now I focus more on cardio, yoga, and stretching.
I genuinely believe that if you can’t take care of yourself — physically and mentally — then there’s no point in anything else. Most people spend all their energy solving external problems while neglecting themselves.
I dedicate three hours every morning entirely to myself. Even if I have to leave home at 6 a.m., I wake up at 2 or 3. I meditate, exercise, and spend time doing puja before stepping out. That spiritual grounding gives me a lot of balance.
At the end of the day, though, I unwind very differently. I watch movies and binge-watch web series. Sometimes a series is so good that even if I know I have to wake up early, I still continue watching it till the end.
I’m very aware of what’s happening on Netflix and Amazon Prime. I’m also someone who likes staying informed about everything — fashion, films, trends, current affairs. I scroll through reels a lot too.
Looking ahead, what kind of legacy do you hope to build — not just politically, but also as a son carrying forward the name and ideals of Ram Vilas Paswan?
Carrying the name Ram Vilas Paswan comes with an enormous sense of responsibility. It’s not easy to live up to that legacy. He entered the ‘Guinness Book of World Records’ twice — once for winning with the highest margin and then for breaking his own record. He served as a Cabinet Minister under six Prime Ministers. These are unparalleled achievements.
So yes, I’m deeply aware of the responsibility I carry. And as I said earlier, even if I cannot add to his legacy, I have no right to diminish it. Every day I try to work harder so that I can live up to the standards he set. In the end, I’m not just carrying forward a name — I’m carrying forward a legacy.
Inputs: Monali Singh
