COIMBATORE: It is not easy being a stand-up comedian, says Bhavneet Singh. Once, when he was performing in a hotel, the diners asked him to pause for 10 minutes so that they could order. “We are seen as part of the ambience.”
Vivek Muralidharan’s paati thinks he is a theatre actor. “People give you blank looks when you say you are a stand-up comedian,” he says. So, they don’t bother to explain any more. As for Mukesh Manjunath, he finds himself lucky if his social commentary aka jokes get some feedback.
The three young men from Hyderabad performed at On The Go, Coimbatore, recently. Vivek is a 26-year-old software engineer, who needed a creative channel to vent his frustration against his work schedule. “But, I like a soft bed under my ceiling. My job is important.”
Mukesh, a humanities graduate from IIT-Chennai, and Bhavneet a 22-year-old journalism student, are pursuing stand-up full time, and enjoying waking up late. “We sleep on our friends’ couches. That’s okay,” says Bhavneet.
They are familiar faces in the open mic circuit in Hyderabad. “We have two open mics a week. The scene is picking up. If you are experienced, you may try new content. We used to open for people bigger than us. This is the second time the three of us are performing together,” says Bhavneet.
Instant feedback is the best thing about stand-up. “There is a reaction or applause to every joke or punch line,” says Vivek. And, the worst is stoic silence. His jokes have ruffled the feathers of 45-year-olds at a show. Similarly, Mukesh’s sati-related jokes won him a few enemies. “It was an eldery crowd. They began shaking their heads disapprovingly.”
Stand-up gives you a unique high; you are the boss of your show. “You are your own playwright and director. You are not mouthing someone else’s lines. This is totally one-man show,” says Mukesh.
Indians have still not figured out stand-up comedy. “Some of them think it is just mimicry,” says Vivek. There is a bias against comedians in the country, Mukesh observes. “Even in films, they are ugly people cracking crass, vulgar jokes. But, things are changing.”
Each has different strengths. For instance, Mukesh’s witty reflections on Hinduism shock a few. “For me, it is all about talking about my feelings. Humour is the way you define it. You do not have to tailor yourself for the audience.” Bhavneet’s forte is his bubbly, cute nature, personal experiences during his childhood and observations on his religion. “Jokes just show how messed up my thoughts are,” he explains.
A thread of black humour runs through Vivek’s jokes. His jokes may be inspired by a break-up, a suicide or a bad drunken night. “That’s why stand-up is therapeutic for me. If I can make a joke about my ex, it means that I am over it.”
The best part of being a comedian is that you train yourself to see everything in a light vein. For instance, something really tragic happened a few days ago, says Bhavneet. “Mukesh got a seizure. It was pretty serious. But, we were laughing our heads off. It was funny to hear his voice. We are going to make joke about it at some point. He himself will.”
Were they funny as kids too? Not him, says Bhavneet. Comedy happened after college. Bhavneet blames it all on the newspaper he worked with and Vijaywada, “which will make you give up hope in life”. Mukesh was done with academia at IIT, where he did development studies. “I did not want to go through the usual rut of publishing papers in journals. And, academic writing has become quite horrible. I was happy with my Masters’ course.” He had already performed in college plays, so performance was not new territory.
About the Tanmay Bhat video controversy and the attack on stand-up comedians in general, the trio says people are taking them too seriously. “A bad joke just needs a bad show. You don’t need to file FIRs against it. If a joke is bad, just let it be,” says Mukesh.
But, should comedians be responsible for their jokes? Vivek finds the question amusing.
“Do you ask politician if they are responsible for their election manifestoes? Why ask us this?”
What is so fear inducing about a guy with a mike? “Is it because we resemble politicians with mikes? And responsibility is a tricky word. It is like putting a certain kind of onus on us,” says Mukesh.
There are movies about casteism and riots, yet people are not affected by it.
But, when a man on a dais talks about these issues, it becomes a problem. “We are not going to create riots or take to the streets to kill people. It will take some time before we treat stand-up as another art form,” says Bhavneet.
However, Mukesh believes stand-up has the power to set the audience thinking.
“But, no immediate political consequence. It can create a discussion. That way, we are as important as any other artiste.”
Let’s laugh about…
Life after college, girlfriends, farmers’ suicides, ISIS, cricket, nonsensical religious beliefs…The Lol of Things, a show by Mukesh Manjunath, Vivek Muralidharan and Bhavneet Singh was a laugh riot, with moments of reflection and political commentary. The audience at On The Go, which hosted the event, thoroughly enjoyed the show and interacted with the comedians during the performance.
No one’s feelings were hurt. Nor did anyone raise an eyebrow. In fact, the oldies in the room were clutching their sides in laughter. The Coimbatore audience proved that they were one of the coolest in the country. Encouraged, Vivek, the first performer and host of the evening, went on to lambast the costly upma at Annapoorna! “Rs.75! My mom apologises to me every time she cooks upma at home.”
Vivek entertained the audience with his wry humour and subverted his sad software life into a funny one. The young IT employees in the audience applauded when he said that, in the industry, young professionals like him were not even a cog in the wheel, but was more of ‘grease in its spoke’. Pseudo photographers with DSLRs slung around their necks, pretentious stand-up comedians, arrogant mechanical engineering students who stole his girlfriends in college… none was spared.
Next, Bhavneet Singh took over. A sardar born in Vijaywada, Bhavneet suffers from an identity crisis, just like the dishes made in his house. “I am no less a Telugu. In my house, we eat aloo parathas with coconut chutney.” He went on to make fun of himself, his religion and community. He was happy to see another sardar in the audience, who called him undernourished. “Only a sardar can look at this figure and call it undernourished,” he laughed. He followed it up with a funny story of his gym experience; how his over-enthusiastic, middle-class zeal to lose weight and make every penny of the gym membership fee count landed him in a hospital.
Mukesh Manjunath kept the session contemporary and witty. His jokes were inspired by real-life issues that we read about in the papers. He made fun of people’s obsession with the qoute, “Hard work pays”. “This never works for a farmer, my friend. Rich people, yes.” He also did not leave the gods in peace. “It is difficult to take them seriously,” he said. “Krishna was basically a playboy. Brahma did not have to look both sides while crossing the roads.” He, then, narrated the old myth of Shiva chopping off his son, Ganesha’s head, while the latter guarded his mother who was taking a bath. “What kind of physical abuse standards did he set for the men in this country?” It was also hilarious to listen to him talk about how parents today gave their kids such glamorous names, while people like him had to live with dull, goody-goody names all their lives.
The evening concluded with a yummy spread of pasta, honey chilly potato, garlic bread, spinach cigars, summer orange cooler and apple cinnamon cup cake, offered by the chefs.
