From a Manhattan homeless shelter to TIME 100‘s Most Influential People, the Amritsar-born chef has built an empire on food, family, and the conviction that every guest is sacred.
When he first came to America, nobody knew his name, and most struggled to pronounce it. He could hardly speak English, worked as a house cleaner, and was an ordinary member of the kitchen staff at modest desi restaurants in Manhattan. For a time, he was homeless and lived in a city shelter.
The impressive arc of Vikas Khanna’s life and career from those challenging times is now triumphantly validated: he was recently recognized as one of TIME magazine’s 100 most influential people in the world for 2025. In his profile for this recognition, the magazine describes Khanna as “a man of extraordinary heart,” emphasizing that his influence comes not only from his culinary achievements but from his generosity and humanitarian work across communities worldwide.
This rare recognition is just the latest cherry on the top of a long list of claims to fame, including Michelin recognition, James Beard Foundation honors, and coverage across international media. He has cooked for world leaders, including President Barack Obama. As a celebrity judge on the wildly popular “MasterChef India,” his fan base runs into the millions.
As if cuisine were not enough, he is also a relentless entrepreneur and an ambassador for major brands. A recent viral reel shows him atop a New York yellow cab, celebrating the launch of his Bungalow mixing sauces at Walmart.
Khanna has a finger in several pots. He has written more than 35 books and directed award-winning shorts and feature films starring veterans of Indian cinema, such as Neena Gupta and Shabana Azmi. A dramatic marker of his rags-to-riches story is that he just bought an apartment in the same luxury Manhattan building where he once cleaned homes. His is a tale of grit and reinvention. Born with a clubfoot to a middle-class family in Amritsar at a time when cooking was considered a woman’s job, he turned both stigmas into starting points.
The trinity that made him
Three women shaped the man Vikas Khanna has become.
From his grandmother, Biji, and his mother, Bindu, he learned as a child to cook for, serve, and feed strangers at the langar in the Golden Temple. That early dedication to humanity has remained his mantra. During the pandemic, it would resurface in dramatic form when he became almost a one-man lifeline between two continents, feeding people across multiple regions of India through his Feed India initiative.
From his beloved sister, Radhika, he learned about love and loss. She had come to America before him and was his lodestar in everything he did — the one who urged him to dream big. But before that dream became reality, she passed away. Her spirit guides him still. Each morning, he places a drop of Ganga jal in the flowers outside Bungalow, ensuring her presence at his door.
Radhika’s shattering loss transformed him. It made him aware of the true meaning of life, and kindness and caring became the anchors that held him steadfast in the tempests that followed.
And then there is the newcomer: Mysha, the 18-year-old daughter of his business partner, who has Down syndrome and has become almost the symbol and spirit of Bungalow — playing host, server, and on occasion, boss. Khanna is nurturing her toward a rich, multidimensional life, and her presence on the restaurant floor is one of its quiet signatures.
Bungalow: temple, community, home
Bungalow, his East Village restaurant, is completing its second year but has already become part of New York City’s life and folklore. Reservations are notoriously hard to come by; crowds without bookings often gather outside, hoping to meet the chef or score a tasting. Every Indian festival is marked here with outdoor music, dance, and culture, woven so firmly into the rhythm of the neighborhood that the restaurant has become a kind of marker of Indian identity in Manhattan.
In Indian culture, the guest is akin to God. Khanna takes the idea further: every human being is sacred and deserves to be included, to be seen. He strives to make each one happy — with a taste of Indian mango, a comforting home dish, a hug, or, at the very least one of his warm smiles.
Bungalow is more temple, more community space, more home than it is a mere restaurant. Perhaps that is why Vikas Khanna is the phenomenon he is.
I first met him in the 1990s, when he was working at a small restaurant called Poornima. He was already a work in progress — all heart, all dreams, being shaped by life and circumstance. The man I sat down with three decades later is the same man, only deeper. What follows is a conversation about that journey: about the women who raised him, the losses that remade him, and the restaurant that may be his fullest expression yet.
A Conversation with Vikas Khanna
Most people would be content with the status of celebrity chef. You are so much more — entrepreneur, filmmaker, philanthropist, author. What is the driving force behind all these interests and initiatives?
The driving force is simple: I want India to be understood beyond stereotypes. I want people to experience the depth, intelligence, beauty, and humanity of our culture. Sometimes a dish can do that. Sometimes a film can. Sometimes a book can. I just follow the medium that best carries the story.
I have never seen food as a profession alone. For me, food has always been memory, emotion, identity, diplomacy, healing, and storytelling. Growing up in Amritsar taught me that food was never just about eating. It was about faith, community, generosity, and dignity. My grandmother’s kitchen was a place where everyone belonged. I think everything I do today is still an extension of that kitchen.
Every path I have taken — filmmaking, writing, humanitarian work, building restaurants — comes from the same desire: to preserve stories and create human connection.
What is the secret behind your success?
Gratitude and discipline. I truly believe gratitude changes the way you work. When you come from scarcity, every opportunity feels sacred. I never forgot where I came from, and I never believed success was permanent. That keeps me hungry to improve.
The second part is consistency. Talent is celebrated, but consistency changes lives. Showing up every day, especially when things are difficult, matters more than inspiration. And honestly, I have never worked only for recognition. I worked because I loved what I was creating. Awards and visibility came later.
You have spoken about growing up in Amritsar, learning to cook at your grandmother’s side, and starting your own catering business at 17. Looking back now from New York, what was the single most defining moment of that early journey?
The most defining moment was realizing that food could give me dignity and purpose. As a child, because of my physical disability, I often felt different and underestimated. But in the kitchen, none of that mattered. The kitchen became the first place where I felt equal. It became my confidence.
I still remember serving people during those early catering days in Amritsar and seeing joy on their faces. That feeling stayed with me forever. It made me understand that feeding people was not a small act. It was meaningful work.
You have been open about overcoming disability, financial struggle, and even periods of homelessness in your early years in the U.S. When things were at their hardest, what kept you anchored to the belief that food could still be your path?
Faith. Not just religious faith, but faith that hard work and honesty eventually find their place in the world. When I came to New York, there were moments of deep loneliness and uncertainty. I had no safety net. But I carried India within me — its smells, spices, prayers, rituals, and memories. Cooking became my way of surviving emotionally. Food also gave me a sense of identity at a time when I felt invisible. Every dish reminded me who I was and where I belonged.
What is your thought process behind designing a menu? How do you balance “comfortingly Indian” with “surprising and new” for an American audience?
Indian cuisine is one of the world’s oldest and most sophisticated culinary systems. My responsibility is not to dilute it but to translate it thoughtfully.
Comfort comes from emotional memory. Surprise comes from presentation, technique, or storytelling. At Bungalow, the soul of the food remains deeply Indian, but the experience feels contemporary and global. I want someone tasting a dish to feel both discovery and familiarity at the same time.
You are the author of more than 35 books, including the magnum opus Utsav, often described as one of the most expensive cookbooks in the world — a tribute to India’s festivals and culinary heritage. When you were conceiving Utsav, what story did you feel had never been properly told about India?
Most books about Indian cuisine focus only on recipes. But India cannot be understood through recipes alone. India’s food culture is inseparable from its spiritual and emotional life. Food in India is tied to festivals, seasons, prayers, rituals, grief, harvests, migration, and memory.
Utsav was my attempt to document the heartbeat of India through celebration. I wanted future generations to understand not just what we cooked, but why we cooked it.
Millions of Indians and their diaspora know you as a longtime judge on MasterChef India, as well as on shows like “Twist of Taste” and “Mega Kitchens.” As a mentor on national television, what responsibility do you feel toward the home cooks and young chefs watching you?
A very deep responsibility. Television reaches homes where people may never enter a culinary school or a luxury restaurant. So the message matters. I always wanted young cooks to feel proud of their roots. Earlier, many people believed success meant copying the West. I wanted contestants and viewers to realize that their grandmother’s recipes, regional traditions, and local ingredients also carry greatness. Mentorship is not about creating clones. It is about helping people discover their own voice.
From the first season of MasterChef India to the current one, you have said that the food, ingredients, and even the audience have evolved. What change in the Indian home kitchen over these years has excited you the most?
Confidence. Today’s generation is reclaiming regional Indian cuisine with pride. Earlier, many traditional recipes were disappearing because people considered them old-fashioned. Now I see younger cooks celebrating forgotten ingredients, tribal foods, millet traditions, temple cuisines, pickling techniques, and hyperlocal cooking. That excites me deeply because India’s culinary diversity is one of the greatest in the world. The audience has also become more curious and educated about food. That evolution is beautiful to witness.
You have often said that despite Michelin stars and global awards, your Feed India initiative during the pandemic is your most meaningful achievement. How did that project change your relationship with success and recognition?
The pandemic stripped success down to its most basic meaning. During that time, awards, titles, and luxury meant very little compared to the urgency of feeding someone hungry. Feed India reminded me that food’s highest purpose is service. It changed me permanently. I stopped measuring achievement only through recognition. The real question became, “Who did we help? Whose suffering became lighter?” That period also restored my faith in humanity. Ordinary people showed extraordinary compassion.
New York has called you one of its “hottest chefs,” and Bungalow earned a Michelin Bib Gourmand recognition in 2024. What did you want Bungalow to say about Indian food in New York that your previous projects did not?
Bungalow was deeply personal. I wanted it to feel like an emotional homecoming rather than a fine-dining performance. I wanted guests to experience India in its fullness — not just through food, but through flowers, music, festivals, hospitality, scent, memory, and warmth.
For decades, Indian cuisine abroad was often reduced to a few predictable dishes. Bungalow was created to show the sophistication, regional diversity, and emotional depth of India. It is not just a restaurant. It is a cultural conversation.
You have said the dishes you cook at Bungalow are “entirely desi” at heart. Can you share one dish from that menu that feels like your personal love letter to India — and what memory it carries for you?
The Old Delhi Chole at Bungalow is very emotional for me. It carries the memory of railway stations, street vendors, temple visits, family journeys, and the energy of North Indian bazaars. Chole is not just food for me — it is sound, movement, chaos, comfort, and belonging. We treat that dish with enormous respect because simple dishes are often the hardest to perfect. They carry memory, and memory is unforgiving.
After all the milestones like Michelin stars, bestselling books, and global recognition, what still scares you creatively when you open the doors of a new restaurant in New York City?
Failure never stops being frightening. Every restaurant is a new act of vulnerability. New York is one of the toughest cities in the world because audiences are incredibly informed and expectations are high. But what scares me even more is repetition. I never want to become comfortable or disconnected from emotion. The day creativity becomes mechanical, the soul disappears from hospitality. That fear keeps me alert, humble, and hungry to evolve.
Lavina Melwani is a New York–based writer for several international publications. She blogs at Lassi with Lavina.