The Siege Refuses to Fake It

The Siege is not one for pretending. He doesn’t care for positioning or building a brand around something he doesn’t believe in. “I’m not a rapper who’s constantly out there selling myself,” he says, seated calmly, almost quietly. “But when I do speak, I know I have something to say.”

That ethos runs through his music—layered, introspective, and free of theatrics. Tracks like “Kabhi Na Mili” and “Ek Din” don’t scream for attention; they sit with you. With each verse, The Siege (real name Siegen Moopanar) constructs a mirror—not just to his world, but to the world reflected in every listener’s experience. His lyricism, often scripted from everyday moments and conversations, carries the weight of lived experience. “Most of what I write is based on what I’ve seen or heard around me,” he shares. “Real things people have said.”

He’s not afraid to ask difficult questions—about class, about identity, about where we’re all really headed. Whether it’s the frustration and realism in “CBSC” or the emotions embedded in “Salim,” Siege refuses to trade honesty for trends. “I’m not interested in gimmicks,” he says. “If I’m going to put something out, it has to come from somewhere real.”

It’s that same realness that shaped one of his most personal milestones: performing at GullyFest 2024. For the first time, his mother was in the crowd. “She’s heard the music,” he says. “But seeing her out there while I was on stage—it grounded me.”

The back story: Born and raised in Mumbai, The Siege didn’t have a roadmap for the path he’s carved out. What he had, instead, was the music itself—and a hunger to use it as a lens to understand the world around him. He speaks of his upbringing with clarity but not cliché, never romanticizing the struggle, never reducing it to a hook. “There’s always been a pressure to package your story,” he says. “But I’ve never wanted to sell pain. I want to process it.”

Early influences: He discovered rap early on through artists such as Nas, Jay-Z, Eminem, and Kanye West—rappers whose verses doubled as self-examination. “It wasn’t just about what they were saying, but how they were saying it,” he explains. “There was structure, sure, but also chaos. Vulnerability. Anger. Pride. It made sense to me.”

Deep dive into the creative process: Over time, his songwriting became less about mimicry and more about instinct. The Mira Road rapper stopped forcing a track into being. He, instead, started letting it unfold. “Sometimes I’ll sit with a beat for days. It’s like it needs to sit with me first, not the other way around.” That approach is evident in his sound—it’s unhurried, deliberate. Every word sounds like it had to be there, and nowhere else.

What sets it all apart: The Siege has a way to stay unpredictable without losing depth. At a time when virality is the currency of relevance, The Siege is content walking the other way. “I don’t believe in scripting everything,” he says. “Music, art—none of it should be predictable.”

It’s a stance that’s made him a bit of an outlier in today’s ecosystem, but it’s also what’s earned him respect from those tuned into what really matters. While others chase visibility, The Siege is building something slower—but far more lasting. “I know people who hear my music might not get it all at once,” he says. “And that’s okay. I’m not trying to be digestible in one listen. If it stays with you, that’s enough.”

His quiet confidence isn’t arrogance—it’s clarity. He knows exactly what he wants from his art. And perhaps more importantly, what he doesn’t.

What’s happening now?: These days, The Siege splits his time between writing, recording, and staying plugged into the world that inspires him—sometimes that means keeping his ear to the street, sometimes that means just listening to friends vent over dinner. “That’s where the songs come from. It’s not always dramatic. It could be something simple someone said that just hits differently.”

Perspective: He’s also cautious about overstating his journey. He knows there’s a long way to go, and he’s not interested in pretending otherwise. “I’m still figuring stuff out,” he says with a shrug. “But I’m doing it my way.”

For an artist who doesn’t like selling himself, The Siege has a presence—calm, sharp, and deeply observant. In person, he might be reserved. On stage, he becomes a vessel. It’s less performance, more transmission. No hype tactics. No pretense. Just a guy who found his voice, and is slowly, methodically, making sure it’s heard.