Deli Boys: one of the most bingeable shows about the Muslim diaspora imaginable

The new Hulu/Disney+ sitcom follows two brothers who discover their father’s deli business is a cover for his drug empire

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DELI BOYS - “First Look” - When their convenience store-magnate father suddenly dies, a pair of pampered Pakistani American brothers lose everything and are forced to reckon with their Baba’s secret life of crime as they attempt to take up his mantle in the underworld.
When their convenience store-magnate father suddenly dies, a pair of pampered Pakistani American brothers lose everything and are forced to reckon with their Baba’s secret life of crime. Photograph by Elizabeth Sisson/Disney 

Nothing beats settling into the sofa for something lewd, crude and utterly hilarious. It is with this in mind that I recommend Deli Boys, a 10-part sitcom made for Hulu in the US and Disney+ in the UK. 

Despite being a comedy, it is as violent as Final Destination, with characters frequently getting dismembered or coated in gallons of blood. For those looking for a subtle exploration of the Pakistani-American experience, this is not for you. But it is one of the most bingeable shows about the Muslim diaspora imaginable.

Deli Boys comes from Abdullah Saeed, a Pakistani American producer, composer and journalist best known for his gonzo Vice documentaries. His prior work focused on drug use and he was nominated for the prestigious James Beard award in 2017 for Bong Appétit, a series featuring chefs cooking marijuana-infused dishes, after the legalisation of the drug in some US states. He ceased working with Vice in protest after accusations of sexual harassment and a toxic work environment were made against the company. Now Saeed brings us his highest-profile project yet.

Deli Boys kicks off with two brothers, Raj (Saagar Shaikh) and Mir (Asif Ali), waking up to go golfing with their father Babba (Iqbal Theba). Laid-back Raj untangles himself from a drug-fuelled orgy while his strait-laced younger brother brews artisanal coffee in his pristine flat decorated in tasteful neutrals. They are both immensely wealthy thanks to their father’s booming business. Baba, we learn, came to the US from Pakistan with nothing and started a series of delis, coffee cup companies and golf courses. Raj argues that the privileged job-free existence this affords him is, in fact, a revolutionary act: “It’s up to us to enjoy this life for everyone who looks like us but doesn’t have it.”

Unfortunately for Raj and his many decadent hangers-on, his stress-free existence comes to an abrupt halt when a poorly aimed golf ball cracks open his father’s temple. The brothers then discover that their father’s businesses are in fact a cover for his drug empire.

Two brothers burdened with a cursed inheritance sounds like it could be a Breaking Bad-esque dissection of the American dream and an unflinching tale of the second-generation immigrant experience, but that couldn’t be further from reality. While the humour is infused with a refreshing specificity — with punchlines about assassins refusing jobs because they sound “super haram”, or lines from the older Pakistani characters stating: “We don’t work with Indians. They’ll rob us blind like they did with partition” — Deli Boys is primarily concerned with having a grand old time.

This is best realised in the series’ MVP, Poorna Jagannathan as their auntie Lucky. The actor is best known for the role of nurturing mother in Mindy Kaling’s Never Have I Ever, but in Deli Boys she plays a sharp-witted, ruthless killer able to run a cocaine empire in an ornate shalwar kameez. Even with a script packed to the rafters with sharp jokes, Jagannathan rolling her eyes at Raj and Mir provides its most effective punchlines.

The show is not exactly highbrow in its humour, but it is grounded in genuine intelligence and apt observations. At one point, the brothers need to convince a bougie hotel’s staff that they are different to another pair of South Asian gangsters. It dawns on them that no disguise is needed because these sorts of white people can’t tell South Asian men apart anyhow, and all they need to do is smile sweetly and show the “faces we put on for white strangers so we don’t sketch them out because we’re brown guys with facial hair”.

DELI BOYS - “Lucky Boys” - It’s Chickie Lasagna’s epic “Big Game” party, and the Pennsylvania “Football Birds” are playing. But the gang is too busy trying to expand their turf and discovering that Chickie’s daughter Gigi is a hot psycho.
While Deli Boys is infused with a refreshing specificity about the South Asian immigrant experience in America, it’s primarily concerned with having a grand old time. Photograph by James Washington/Disney

As ridiculous as many of the twists and turns of Deli Boys are, each episode is infectious, with a propulsive, kinetic energy throughout. The show feels fresh and edgy in a world where actors like Shaikh and Ali are so often absent or relegated to the role of stereotypical, two-dimensional roles. 

Even watching Theba as Babba, I think back to one of my favourite sitcoms, Community, where he played Abed Nadir’s dad. While Theba was excellent in the part, he was playing a well-worn cliche of an emotionally unavailable conservative father. In Deli Boys, it’s truly refreshing to see him dial it up to 11 as a fun-loving, dodgy drug lord who abhors sexism and adores making whimsical videos on iMovie explaining his schemes.

While on its surface Deli Boys may have more in common with the filth of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia than the artful humor of Ramy or Mo, they are all welcome in their subversive representation of the diaspora. After decades of widespread erasure, we’ve all earned the right to just have a little fun.

Deli Boys is showing on Disney+ in the UK from 6 March.

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