Thursday, April 28, 2011

by Gursimran Khamba


I’m finally moving to Bombay in June. To study. I’ve been waiting for this for the last two years now and my hunger to get back into a classroom scares me. This I realise is ridiculous because I know I’ll be bitching about everything that’s wrong with studying around a week into my programme - but for now, I can’t wait. In my head, the only place I wanted to be if I had to stay in India was TISS. I’m glad I’m going to be there. So if you’re around, drop by and say hi if security lets you.

The second reason I’ve been slow to update my blog is that I’m in a new relationship. This I have come to realise takes a lot of time because early on in a relationship all you do is watch one shitty movie after the other because that’s the only goddamn place that’s dark with air-conditioning in Delhi where you can go because you’ll get shot by Jats if you goto shady pubs and shot by parents if you stay at home. Also, holy fuck when did dating become so expensive? How do poor comics actually afford dating someone without going for lunch to a gurudwara or Andhra Bhavan? And you can’t even shout at your better half if they call at 5 in the morning “just to talk” if you’re within the 3 month period where everything has to be nice and sweet. Also, I assume when we start fighting I’ll turn angry and bitter again and that is absolutely the best thing that can happen to a comic. I’m going to stop talking about this now because by the time she’s done reading this I’ll be single again. I’m kidding, she can’t read because she’s blind. Actually she isn’t, that was a lie. But suppose she was, I bet half of you would go “awwwwwwwwwwwww, such a selfless thing to do” like we’re supposed to show pity to people who are visually impaired like they can’t date anyone or are sub-standard human beings. They don’t need your pity. We’re blind to half the shit that goes around us despite us having eyes and no one pities each other. So why them?

But that’s not what this post is about. This post is to rant about things that have been stifling me when it comes to stand up comedy, how I view it, how I feel about it, my place within the “industry”, its role within our social structures and how we view it. And it’s also the reason I’m stopping myself from blogging somewhat because I can’t seem to move ahead with it till I have this resolved in my head.

I’m pissed off that we don’t have an original voice in India - anywhere. We don’t have anyone who speaks truth to power. All we delve in is safe stereotypes about things we know the audience we like. We know saying bhenchod will make people laugh. We know every comic in Bombay will diss Delhi and make a rape reference and everyone will lap it up. We know no one will make a Muslim joke because they’re afraid of how it might be perceived. We will makes jokes about bra sizes and how Bengalis read and Punjabis abuse and spend money and the same old clusterfuck of template based mediocrity that has permeated the entire system while we crib about what we see on TV is even worse. There is no Bruce or Hicks. Everyone’s running around in circles making the same old pointless jokes which don’t break any new ground but we do them because we’re safe and tried and tested because the audience always has to be right when infact they don’t because they don’t have as much of an academic understanding of shape or form or technique. We tell jokes to get into the public eye so someone offers us a TV writing gig where we end up peddling the same shit we claim to not be able to stand. Maybe we just don’t have the ability, or maybe we’re just too comfortable knowing we work not because we’re great but because everyone else around us sucks even worse. There is no revolution. With everything going on around us, there is no push back. No counter culture. Fuck, no culture. And on top of that we have idiots peddling morality and what is humane and what should be spoken about and what shouldn’t because that is what we’re bloody best at – preaching morality, resisting change and then going back to cribbing about status quo for it being shit.

Comics are insecure beings. They forget to laugh at other comics because all they’re doing is analyzing what is making a joke and audience tick. They say shit like they’re in it for the laughter but that is mostly not true. There might be nothing wrong in peddling jokes that make people laugh but have no soul to them – but they make no difference, influence no behaviour and eventually you die a miserable death with no one to bloody remember you. And I am starting to feel that I am falling into similar traps. Where has the ruthlessness gone? Why can’t comics be angry at things around them because they’re afraid of pissing off an audience? Where are audiences willing to be open to facing adversaries on stage instead of punchline inducing slot machines? Where is the lack of fear that allows people to cut loose without giving a shit about whether the audience laughs or not? Why are lameass puns and shitty wordplays considered comic genius? Why do people still do voices when they’ve been done to death 20 years ago? Why are comics not discussing ideas instead of plying SMS barbs? Why does there have to be a choice between going mainstream and talking about things you want to talk about? Why do people bring 3 year old kids to open mic nights knowing full well they’ll start crying and the comic not allowed to tell the kid to fuck off and grow up with some character? Why do comics keep a water bottle next to them and pretend to drink from it in a 10 minute set when talking to people on the phone for 40 minutes invokes no such reaction?

I know I’m being judgemental and I know our scene hasn’t evolved as much – but I’m pissed at having fallen for all if not most of everything I have stated above and that to my conscience is just not acceptable. None of us is a goddamn comic. We’re just a bunch of punchline peddlers hoping to run away from our inner voices hoping the gleaming lights of acceptability where our desire to always be loved by everyone distracts us from listening to it. We talk about change and influence and making people think hard about issues but we do nothing. What we do now is not what comedy is about. Or maybe it is – but I’m not comfortable with how it defines itself and where it seems to be stuck.

Today I chose to not get eaten up by this shit – and god help me if I don’t do everything within my power to bloody break it.

Rant over. Thanks. And she just called, I’m single again.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

A conversation from the Alchemist


"There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve:the fear of failure."

"I am not afraid of failing. It's just that I don't know how to turn myself into the wind."

"Well, then you'll have to learn; your life depends on it."

"But what if I can't?"

"Then you'll die in the midst of trying to realize your destiny. That's a lot better than dying like millions of other people, who never even knew what their destinies were."

-The Alchemist

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

a poem written by a terminally ill girl in a hospital


Ever told your child, we’ll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste not see his sorrow?

Ever lost touch, Let a good friendship die
Cause you never had time To call & say “Hi”?

You’d better slow down. Don’t dance so fast.
Time is short. The music won’t last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere
You miss half of the fun of getting there.

When you worry & hurry through Your day,
It is like an unopened gift…Thrown away.

Life is not a race. Do take it slower
Hear the music Before the song is over

Monday, April 25, 2011

The man who wanted to live


He was standing in the criminal's box in the packed courtroom. All eyes were on him. He had been charged by the government of the state for defying the rules of the society and had become an outcast.

He was defending his case himself. His defence lawyer had backed out. The prosecution cried, 'What gives you the right to think that you are right? What is it that you fight for?'

"I fight for my own happiness. What makes you think that you are right? I don't accept your rules. I don't accept anybody's rules until they agree with my sense of reason and logic.  By what standards do you judge your life and by what standards do you judge anybody else's life?" he hollered.

There were people who looked aghast at the courage and the fearlessness of the man in the box. They were taught that he was to be hated and that he deserved the hatred. Nobody had any right to go against the tide. Nobody had any right to believe in what he thought been right. It was a collective society and every belief was meant to be a collective belief. 

The room was silent as he continued. 

"In fact, I don't understand what do you live for? By the way, you aren't even living. You are just surviving. You go from one day to another having passed through it. You stay in painful relationships fearing what society would think of you otherwise. You do work you have no interest in because you want to survive.

You know what? I don't what to survive. I either want to live or to die. I don't want to survive. Not anymore. Animals are born to survive. They get up in the morning thinking of nothing but getting enough food to survive. They exist to survive. I am not an animal. I am a human. I exist to live."

The public prosecutor who had been flabbergasted by this outburst of an accused tried to regain his calm and said,    

"That's all too easy to say. You kid yourself. You foolish idealist! You dumb utopian! We also need to survive. We need to compromise with life and make sacrifices for others. We have to do things even if we don't like them. That is not easy either." 

"By whose standards? When you do things you don't like, you kill yourself everyday and kill any chance to really become who you are or who you ought to be. You fake everything to sustain your fake sense of existence. You justify the things that cause pain and eulogize them rather than criticize them. You lack the courage to speak up or it will jeopardize your survival."

"So you mean you are not scared?" refuted the prosecutor.

"No. I am not. Not now. Not anymore. I am willing to put my life at stake to stand by my convictions."

Nobody said anything. It did not matter anymore. It did not matter what the judge announced as the punishment for the criminal or if he was exonerated. There stood a man who was willing to die for his convictions. There stood a man who was willing to live or die.

There stood a fearless man who wanted to live for his happiness and was willing to put his life at stake for it. 

The man was acquitted. He was set free to live or die. It did not matter if he lived or died.

What did matter was what he was fighting for. He fought for his own happiness.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

do what you love

Doing what you truly love certainly has its rewards. In Making a Life, Making a Living, Mark Albion cites a study carried out by Srully Blotnick. The careers of 1,500 business school graduates were tracked from 1969 to 1980 and were split into two groups: group A said they wanted to make money first so they could do what they really wanted later, and group B said they would follow their interests first, regardless of financial considerations. At the end of the study, there were 101 millionaires. 


All but one came from group B. 

Freedom!

There are 2 kinds of people on earth.

those who are free to speak their mind. free to act on their will. free to be. These make a minority of the human population.

the second type of people are called slaves. 95% of the world's population is a slave.

Satinder Sartaj!

daulatan te jag te baterian
paise to zaruri hondi pag ji
baki tusi mere to sayane o
mai tan aiyon kadya e chajh ji