As a relatively new industry, Indian stand-up comedy is a force to reckon with. A conversation with the insiders.
By Aishwarya Bodke
The turn of the last decade unlocked an avalanche of jokes. Initially starting in small rooms with a few chairs and a mic, Indian stand-up comics today sell out stadiums not only in the country but across the world. A space that did not exist for a long time is now filled with a great many voices—fledgling and promising, doted upon and curtailed, loud, nonetheless. Uncomfortable truths come wrapped in wit for uncomfortable laughs. A quiet revolution it is not.
Stand-up comedy in India is a young industry. Its tremendous growth in less than two decades, however, is no laughing matter. Gone are the days when the metropolises of Mumbai, Delhi and Bengaluru were exclusive comedy-consuming markets. Small-town comics have broken through the internet to millions of views and packed auditoriums. Recurring Indian names on international tours, in competitions and art festivals are ubiquitous.
“Indian audiences are very giving. We love to laugh,” says Urooj Ashfaq, backstage after a sold-out NCPA premiere of her show Oh No!. She is all set to return to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe this month where she won the Best Newcomer at the Edinburgh Comedy Awards last year, often considered the ‘Oscars of comedy’. With disarming charm, her humour is one of fierce vulnerability. She reigns over the room while unpeeling the hardened wounds of her parents’ divorce, making sense of her religion and flipping through pages of her childhood diary. There is a warmth that transcends the stage.
Although previous Edinburgh Fringe line-ups have included noted artistes like Vir Das, Aditi Mittal, Anuvab Pal and Sumit Anand, Ashfaq is the first Indian comic to win at the festival that is as old as independent India. “We are at the beginning of something great. We have only journeyed through the first decade of comedy here so there is a first-mover advantage. We all get to be the mothers and fathers of Indian comedy. We all get to do firsts,” she tells us.
Another regular Indian presence at international comedy line-ups is that of Anirban Dasgupta. His latest show Polite Provocation garnered immense applause at the NCPA. Intergenerational tales and a stream of cynicism make their way to a depiction of quotidian life.
Having performed extensively at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival and at Just for laughs in Montreal, Dasgupta argues that the Indian comedy scene is self-sufficient. “What we have achieved in a short amount of time is incredible. When I tell my foreign counterparts that we have our own web shows, writing and producing credits on films and specials that are touring the world, they find it hard to believe. The world is sleeping on Indian stand-up,” he asserts.
The explosion of comedic voices in the last few years can be largely attributed to the internet and social media where humour has accompanied newsy developments as commentary and turbulent tragedies in the form of catharsis. Memes have become the foot soldiers of pop culture. The pandemic saw numerous fundraising comedy shows and a surge of content creation online, expanding the scope of the industry. The culture of stand-up, though, is cradled at the open mics by various comedy clubs where, on any given night, someone might be stepping onto the stage for the first time.
Starting with intimate open mics on Thursdays in 2016, The Habitat is now a mecca for comedy in Mumbai. Its curation cuts through formats and has fostered an ever-growing audience. The venue now also has a larger performance space right above its comedy room, christened, Above the Habitat. Owner Balraj Singh Ghai wears many hats and is a walking extension of the venue. He describes the comedy boom as a pyramid. At the top are popular comics, who have been performing for years, and at the bottom, those who are just starting out. For the ones at the top to keep doing better, you need more people being added at the bottom. “Otherwise, it is going to get boring. It is interesting to see a new comic go through the entire journey of finding their voice,” he explains.
The function of time does carve out a chasm despite the popularity of Indian stand-up. Talking about her experience performing abroad, Ashfaq draws attention to the privileges that she and her fellow comics here do not have access to. “When you perform in a first-world country, you see a fundamental difference in approach. They get to be better at the art because they get to have it for so long. They have government support for their artistic pursuits, whereas ours are stifled by the system. It can tamper with how you pursue your art and the integrity it allows,” Ashfaq explains.
When she started performing in 2016, what could be said onstage was already limited. A Muslim woman in comedy, the boundaries have been different for her than most others. She avers that women before her had already laid the groundwork to make it a better space. “They suffered so I did not have to. I got hired at a lot of places because they had paved the way for it,” she elaborates.
However, Ashfaq sheds light on the absence of diverse voices. “We do not have adequate representation from different socio-economic backgrounds and castes. The well-off can afford to pursue the arts. Although it is better than before, it is still tricky terrain,” she tells us.
Dasgupta, who has had to take down content due to backlash and threats in the past, relies on a writing process where several filters make way for a natural selection of jokes. But he believes that comedy, ideally, should not have any limits. “When we perform outside the country, there is a fair degree of confidence that we will not end up in jail for telling a joke. We certainly do not have that here, and this stems from a lack of constitutional protection. Our freedom of speech is very fragile [which compels us to] toe the line and practise forms of self-censorship,” admits Dasgupta.
The insolent scrutiny under which Indian standup subsists is undeniable. Dasgupta deems it an interesting challenge to be a comic in an environment where people get agitated very quickly. Every word is measured, and offence calculated at the source. It is the art of playing with fire. Of telling a joke where the ones it would offend, do not understand it.
Comedy and satire have never been pro-establishment. Court jesters are no friends of the king. The entitlement to demand an apology from an artiste, of invading and vandalising comedy clubs is a recent phenomenon. Comics have been forced to tone down, consult lawyers at the very initial stages of writing and stick to subjects that are not political.
But what is not political today? It is a delicate dance and comics have learned the choreography. Despite the odds, is there hope for a future less suffocating for artistes? Dasgupta chuckles, “I think the answer changes completely after the election results.”
Along with comedy clubs, art centres and houses of culture can contribute to making room for standup comedy. The NCPA collaborates with several forerunners in the comedy landscape to bring worthy voices to centre stage. The Habitat, That Comedy Club and Comedy Ladder regularly present solo shows and interesting line-ups at the NCPA. Located mostly in the suburbs, these comedy clubs have found a platform in the southern part of the city through the centre.
Ghai speaks with ardour about shaping standup as a shift in pop culture. “A lot of credit goes to the comics that have performed with us. Constant experimentation was a priority. The club started as an experiment, and it continues to be that way. The day we stop experimenting is the day we start inviting our death,” he elucidates.
For years now, the NCPA has hosted different forms of stand-up comedy. Vir Das, India’s famous funnyman and a global powerhouse, found a stage at the NCPA when he was only starting out. One of his favourite places to perform in the world, he has called the Jamshed Bhabha Theatre “the Carnegie Hall of India”. Pal’s stand-up show, The Empire, debuted at the NCPA in 2015. It has since travelled around the world. It was also filmed as part of a special show of the BBC World Service and is part of the permanent viewing collection at the Victoria and Albert Museum, London.
“With its historical significance, the NCPA is very aspirational for a lot of comics. It certainly was for me. It helps us reach out to a different and larger crowd,” says Dasgupta.
They say it is a great time to be an Indian comic. Last year, Das became the first Indian to win the International Emmy Award in the comedy category for his Netflix special Vir Das: Landing. While he was the first Indian comic to perform at Carnegie Hall, Zakir Khan, whose gig was part of the NCPA’s 50th year celebrations, became the first Asian comedian to crack up an audience at the Royal Albert Hall with not an empty seat in sight. Ashfaq’s Edinburgh win comes as a happy addition to the roster.
Every so often, the tides turn and art flourishes. To be an artiste is to live with this duality. Dasgupta confesses that when uncertain, he goes back to something that fellow comic Varun Grover had once said and he paraphrases: the worst time to be a comic is the best time to be a comic.
This article was originally published in the August 2024 issue of ON Stage.
