The national JOKE

A recent US magazine poll claimed that we were among the most self-important and serious people in the world. Thats apparently why we cant take a joke. My view is the opposite. I think our seriousness is our comedy. A friend in the Foreign Service told me the story of a senior Indian delegation visiting Scandinavia in the early 1990s with a certain deputy prime minister who could only drink fresh cows milk. So there we were, he recalled,in Savile Row suits. The entire upper echelon of the Indian Foreign Service,all extremely serious,walking around Copenhagen looking for a cow.

I think 63 years on,whether we have a sense of humour or not is nearly an impossible analysis because it would take a lifetime to understand what covers we and another to define sense of humour. For example,the we range needs to cover Rajasthani tribal women having a laugh to South Mumbai PG Wodehouse Societies losing it over words like Bigglesworth. And sense of humour needs to cover everyone from Shekhar Suman to Borat,from Mehmood to Oscar Wilde,and everyone in between.

It is a near impossible task not because of the time and effort it would take,but because there really isnt a common ground,a thing called an Indian sense of humour that a billion people across the board can immediately connect and start laughing at. Well,except Bappi Lahiri.

The Copenhagen incident was not told to me as a joke; it was told to me as information. Even though hilarious,we dont include this within the range of what we find funny. So I started thinking through some of the areas where we exert our comedy. And the nature of it.

There are cocktail party nuggets about various Indian communities mostly jokes about Sardarjis,a late 1980s phenomenon that has sort of thankfully died down; theres tiresome Laloo joke e-mail,often involving Bill Gates,something to do with rustic cowbelt ways outwitting western sophistication. An equally painful set of jokes exists in the ether about bossy wives or satisfying multiple women in bed often told by men who look like they can barely satisfy themselves and the perennial favourite,Viagra.

There are Hindi reality TV shows where stand-up comics do traditional mimicry and Navjot Singh Sidhu and other judges start laughing even before the stand-up comedian has finished mentioning his name. Clearly,the TV producers have sensibly concluded that nothing funny has to be said; in fact,nothing has to be said,if the funny synthesiser and drum noises are loud enough. And the TV audience,caught somewhere between confusion and persuasion,will start laughing as well,mostly driven by nervousness. Regardless of my useless view,this kind of comedy is a national phenomenon. If you get on any domestic flight and notice the flight entertainment system,most people are watching it. Its stars go around India doing Amitabh impressions at political rallies and opening beauty salons. Raju Srivastav,probably the most famous Hindi comedian,was last seen in Bigg Boss waddling in an inflatable baby pool,wearing baby trunks,crying like an infant. Perhaps,in old age,he will not look back on this as one of his more dignified moments.

Nationwide,there are laughing clubs whose point I seem to miss,except waking up very early in the morning and laughing for absolutely no reason. As Graham Greene once said of humour,To laugh heartily is delightful. To laugh heartily without a reason,is a sign of lunacy.

Finally,for the more refined,theres urban English humour. Previously on DVD,now on YouTube and an ever increasing number of local stand-up comedy gigs. Its a new thing. Everyone who thought they had a refined sense of humour now find themselves in a room filled with everyone getting esoteric references they thought were only theirs. And immediately,many articles and stories have been written on this to try and understand if we have this erudite sense of humour. There are more articles now analysing whether urban India can laugh at itself,than people just sitting back and laughing. As an English standup explained,When you identify with an anecdote and laugh,theres something immediately inside you going,hmmm,why did I laugh at that? What does this mean? Do I have a sense of humour? I must analyse this.

So there you have it. A broad crude analysis of what India is laughing at on her 63rd birthday. But these varied attempts at laughter feel like fixes,forced efforts,desperation to play a sport we have no hunger for. Comedy for the sake of it.

Perhaps because,at our core,we arent inherently looking at the world in a funny way,at the ridiculousness of it all. Perhaps because ours is a culture on the verge of something. One that encourages achievement,optimism,constant progress,always reminded of not being something poor. So like Octavius said when building Imperial Rome,Nothing here should make us look foolish. Therefore,our seriousness in all things. We dont have the benefit of a wealthy developed nation whose people have seen and done it all,who can now take a step back and write jokes about how everything is crap.

Perhaps someday,when our seriousness has made us the world power we have set our eyes on,the gravity and the tense brow that bring us skyscrapers,supermarkets,stock-market booms,faster internet speed and 8 per cent growth can be deployed to a different use. The angry Indian patriarchs face has immense comic potential,the least of which is trying not to look like he needs to use a toilet.
Anuvab Pal is a playwright and screenplay writer of films such as Loins of Punjab Presents and The President is Coming.