The death of humour

I work for a bpo now and after having spent some three weeks in process training, I realise that there is a genuine dearth of funny people in my training batch. This is bad, very bad, especially for someone like me who survives on humour. I need wit and humour the way most people need oxygen. And I love laughing, which is perhaps why I make it a point to surround myself with funny people. The brand of humour in the training rooms is restricted to those that have an underlying sexual connotation or those that are plain silly. Such jokes achieve the purpose though; everyone's laughing. And laughing real loud. But wit and timing seem to be a thing of the past.

I would like to think of myself as a funny person; but the truth is that I am not. I am the kind that catalyzes the funniness in another. It's like this : pair me up with someone funny, and I'll probably come up with whacky ideas and situations, but the actual jokes come from the other person. I contribute by laughing and the fact that people find my laughter appealing (their words, not mine), definitely helps. But I have pretty much come across a dead end in my training room; the silly jokes just continue, and while I continue to laugh (in a tone that is reminiscent of tinkling bells or wind chimes..hehe..Linda Goodman's words this time), my heart continues to grieve over the death of wit.

This post is dedicated to all the wit masters I have had the privilege of laughing with till date :

Abhi : Let's start with my brother. He's witty, real witty. The funnest moments I have spent at home were in his company. And there weren't too many of those, considering that my mom sent him away to stay with my grandma. But I always cherish the time I spend with him. He is very observant and his humour is more like the Jerry Seinfeld brand of humour (and he even cracks jokes the way he would if he were part of a stand-up routine). He is knowledgable about most things; consequently, the jokes are pretty varied as well. He's in Dubai now; yet the wit comes through even during chats. He's talented as well. So there's this cartoon strip that he's created, which was really hilarious. And a book that he's writing..a draft of which he sent me..very good stuff indeed. Shall share it all with you guys sometime soon.

Umme : My best friend. She isn't funny intentionally; it's just that she's plain whacky. And being plain whacky myself, we constantly keep cracking up on weird things. Strange things keep happening to her or so it seems. Do you guys remember that character 'Phoebe' from FRIENDS? That's Umme for you..its like she's forever on a different planet. Everytime I feel sad or restless, I just call her up and before I know it, I am giggling away to glory. Its good to have a friend who can do that to you.

Simon : A Junior College friend, who I haven't had the opportunity of meeting ever since I passed out. But we keep in touch through chats (which is, almost everyday). And his wit defies description. He's got a funny take on most things, and it's a subtle, yet effective sense of humour. He never comes up with stuff himself. I continuously have to keep prodding him on myself (probably bcos he can't hear my tinkling laughter over a chat window..;-)). He isn't funny, he's plain witty. And very sarcy. I simply enjoy talking to him.

Aarthi : An ex-colleague. I used to hang around with her constantly; we'd even go home together. She's always got that sparkle in her eyes when there's some joke that is simply waiting to burst out of her. She's enormous fun to be with. And she's at her funniest best when she has any kind of throat infection, 'cos then she gets all irritated and comes out with brilliantly sarcy jokes.

Pat : She rules in the sarcy humour category. She's a great person to be with, simply b'cos she's sure to find something or the other utterly ridiculous and the way she expresses her indignation has afforded us many laughs. Her Hindi sucks, so if she's ranting and raving in Hindi, we just double up with laughter. She's very expressive and one person I truly enjoy being with. She has a very sharp sense of humour and her take on the messy state in which most things are, has kept me in splits ever since I first got to know her.

Vivek : Ex-boss. I always thought 'Vivek' meant 'wit' and thought he had a very apt name. He later disclosed that 'Vivek' actually meant 'discrimination' and the name seemed less apt then. But still, we are talking about his sense of humour now. So let's stick to that. He is enormously funny. I must confess that the only reason I'd take any interest in office meetings was b'cos he was bound to be there and the moment he opened his mouth to speak, the fun sessions would start. I am sure he'll be reading this blog and will have second thoughts about my efficiency. But you have to know him to understand what real wit is all about. I still remember one particluar incident when we were having a grammar session for the Editors and after reading one particularly complicated sentence, he remarked " wow, there are so many 'which's in here, it seems like 'Macbeth'" (or something to that effect). I simply burst out laughing. Now do you see what I mean about his wit?

That's all for now....And a big thank-you to all for making the earth a funnier place to live in..

Smells like human spirit

On a shelf in my home, there lies a doll-like thing that my aunt had received from her ex-boss. I was a child when she had received it and because I was so fascinated by it, she let me keep it. It's a red, wooden thingy, with a woman painted over it and is divided into two halves, both fitted into each other in a way that you have to unscrew the upper half to figure out what's inside. So when you unscrew the first half, inside, you find a smaller doll. You unscrew that, and you find a still smaller doll and so on and so forth till you get to the end, where all you find is a little baby-doll. That, I feel, very neatly sums up most of the human race : layers and layers that one has to painstakingly unravel to get to the very core of a being.

On one of my rare visits to college yesterday, I happened to run into two friends, not big-time buddies, mind you, but casual acquaintances. We got talking. Later that day, in office, I was chatting up this apparently-wild girl, from whom I had always kept a safe distance (given my distaste for anything that is even remotely freaky). We started talking because I was trying to kill time and there was no one around to do it with. Later still that day(or shall I say the next day), at around 1 am, I received a call from my cousin, who had called for advice on some girl trouble. Ofcourse I spoke to many more people that day, but the conversations that I had with these four people remain in my memory, not because the people themselves were so engaging, but because they gave me the privilege of snooping around in the darkest corners of their heart. They kept telling me that they couldn't understand why they were telling me all that they were, but I understood, and smiled.

I think it's a gift, you know : to be privileged enough to enter the deepest recesses of the heart and having access to all its joys and pains, its fondest memories and hopes and its silent anguish, all of them unalloyed. Now, this 'getting to the core' business is a serious affair and not something that I am very comfortable with. Usually, I try to keep my distance from people, and even my closest friends are not allowed into the private spaces that are meant for me and my maker. Consequently, I do not expect other people to give me free acess to their core; that's when you are most vulnerable; most people build a rock-solid, invisible fortress around themselves. I have many friends who claim to understand people and their behaviour; I always felt depressed on that count because I felt I never 'knew' people. I have been the cause of quite some mess in my relationships, all because I never knew what the other person was all about. With me, its a simple logic : I cannot be bothered with figuring out who the real 'you' is; if you want me to know, let me know, or I can do equally well with any facade you may care to present. I was never interested in getting to know a person's deepest secrets; I have no use for them. I do not encourage people to come to me with their personal problems; I can barely handle my own.

So, it came as a pleasant surprise when I realised that I infact, with all my stupidity and plain disinterest, I understood people better than most others did; the others just about manage to scratch the exterior surface; I plunge deep down with a freedom I find exhilerating. For example, let's discuss these four people I was talking about : the first is an only son who has taken his responsibilities very seriously. He started out like a normal college kid, but has graduated into a total workaholic. He's insomniac, works like crazy, is handling three businesses (and that's apart from the law course he's doing), all because he has old parents to take care of and a girlfriend he wants to marry. The marriage can't happen till he's financially stable, and so, in his attempt to get there, he's become a nervous wreck. We were discussing life and philosophy over a bottle of Maaza, and it amazed me that a person would willingly stretch himself so; such levels of self-sacrifice, I must shamelessly admit, is beyond me. But then, my thoughts on the subject deserve another post. I find it scary that someone my age works for 20 hours a day, and still manages to take time out for family and friends. And study law. The second friend is Parsi and is a little worried about her love-life. Her guy's Muslim and her parents are dead against her marrying anyone outside the community, especially Muslims. The story's a little more complicated, but let's not get into the details. The third, a colleague, was this person who had just been caught doping in office. I have no opinion on the dope culture, but I nevertheless kept my distance from this girl. But, as I mentioned, we got talking. She told me about her family : a cruel step-mom, a spineless dad, an uncaring step-brother..the works. Her mom had died during child-birth itself, so her relatives, orthodox people, always blamed her for the mom's death; so she's pretty much been floating around on her own. Her family never calls up; and now she doesn't care either, atleast that's what she claims. The fourth, a cousin, is seriously in love with a girl who already has a boyfriend, and who is expected to get married sometime next year. It doesn't help matters that she lives in Delhi, while our hero lives in Mumbai.

Phew! These are pretty common-place stories; I would normally have remained unpertrubed. But the anguish and despair in their voices got me thinking. It's often at occasions like these that you realise what a person is really about : by their actions, their reactions, their thoughts and their feelings. And these things change your perspective, you know. Now, I don't have to worry about their behaviour; I know what causes it. And it explains a lot of things. Within these four, I found a deeply spiritual and sweet person, a confused, but determined person, a person who tries to maintain a facade of well-being, but who's churning inside, and lastly, a person who's fighting against fate itself. They struck me in different ways. I dont know what will become of them. But I'll wait and watch and see life's grand drama unfolding before me.

And it seems a very good time to wish the human race 'pax et bonum'.

The wonder years

Just the other day, I was having a conversation with my 5-yr-old cousin, Ankita, who had come down from Algeria for a holiday. Anki was telling me about her school and her friends. She added rather emphatically that she simply couldn't stand one particular girl from her class, Sarah. I was curious, and asked her why; she replied pretty matter-of-factly (in a way only children can) that Sarah was all 'black-black'. I must admit I was stupefied for a second. I couldn't figure out if that child Sarah was 'black' because she was dirty and wouldn't wash up, or because she was African. I soon decided in favour of the latter. So little Anki was already into discrimination, I thought and instantly, the little, pink, innocent bundle before me became someone that I needed to discipline. I was about to launch into a self-righteous lecture on the glory of brotherhood, of mankind, of peace and harmony that I suddenly realised that my audience was a 5-yr old kid whose attention was already diverted to what was playing on tv. She definitely didn't need a sermon; her 'growing up to the facts of life', I decided, should be allowed to take its own course. Anki was spared that day, but I got thinking.

My family isn't particularly racist; we have way too many things occupying our mind to teach our kids that 'black' was bad or that 'poor' equalled scum. And excepting the influence of her parents on her ideas and her behaviour, there was only one other thing that was capable of moulding her thoughts : the tv. I think she watches way too much television (which is not necessarily a bad thing, 'cos I watch way too much television myself), but what disturbs me is that she enjoys her Star TV and its double-dose of weepy 'saas-and-bahu' serials. She's glued to that damn channel 24*7 and it has a telling effect on her. She has lost all that charm that makes kids so adorable and has become a make-up maniac. She loves her rouge and her perfumes, is into 'jhatak' clothes, can eat only junk food and thinks she's adorable when she's batting her lashes, trying to impress some imaginary guy. Now, forgive me if I sound like an old school marm, but I think kids are cutest when they try to sing a nursery rhyme out of tune, and not when they sing 'Just chill' with an accompanying dance sequence. I realise how old-fashioned I have become when she's playing pretend with me, and expects me to be a 'doctor' trying to deliver her baby. She's clear about what she wants to do : wear loads of make-up, get married and keep delivering kids. Again, I apologise if I seem to be demonising my cute, lil cus, but hey, we all had our play-house days; but it was never this close to the truth. Back then, we managed to retain a semblance of the childish even if we were trying to act all grown-up..now, when Anki tries to play adult, she does it with such perfection, it scares me. And what is worse is that she seems to be living in that 'adult' mode most of the time, and slips into the 'look-i'm-a-child-ain't-i-cute' mode only when she knows we would rather she be like that. Often, when we try to 'imitate' her and become childish ourselves, talking in what we presume is acceptable baby language, she does act that way too, but there that sparkle in her eyes that tells me that she knows we are just making fools of ourselves and all that she is doing is humoring us.

I am sure I shouldn't be troubled by Anki; all this is just a part of the growing-up process and she'll soon make a good adult. But I cannot avoid comparisions with my own upbringing. I'd like to think of myself as a fairly-accomplished young person with no major character-flaws. I have a almost well-rounded personality, and it is easy to see why..I have been brought up by television myself. My mom and dad were both office-going people, and my Dad, especially, was being stationed all over India as a part of his work profile; so Dad was never around in my growning-up years. My elder brother was sent to stay with my grandma and give her company. So when I returned home from school, which would be around 2 pm, I would have the house all to myself till 9 or 10, when my mom returned. What did I do in those 8 hours? I saw television and read books and that's all that I did. I couldn't go down to play with the other kids b'cos then there was always that problem about locking up the doors and taking care of the keys. Cartoons were my favourite, and still are. I grew up on a staple diet of Yogi Bear, Squiddly-Diddly, Wallygator, Touche Turtle, Penelope Pitstop and so on and so forth..Oh yea, how could i forget the smurfs and Lil Lulu..If I wasn't watching cartoons, I'd be watching all the funny stuff on Star World..Different Strokes, Silver Spoons and stuff like that. The good thing about such uncontrolled access to the television was that I saw whatever I wanted to..and consequently, got exposed to more variety than I normally would have, say, if a parent was constantly monitoring which cartoon I saw. And variety always helps. Contrary to the popular notion that uncontrolled access means letting ur kid watch sex n violence all day long, giving freedom helps your child decide what she likes and what she doesn't, while acquainting her with all that exists. When I was a kid, ofcourse I would be curious about why one guy was bashing up the other, or why one guy was trying to cop a feel under some girl's shirt, but this curiosity was always overtaken by my curiosity about whether Penelope managed to escape the evil clutches of Dastardly and Muttly. Call me a bore, but I do not get turned on by sex and violence on tv (if I were a part of the sex, it would be a different matter altogether..:-)) Ditto for books. I was a voracious reader and would read anything that I happened to lay my hands on. Very often, I would end up reading essays by Aldous Huxley the moment I finished my Archie's Digest. The good thing about such erratic reading habits is that I imbibed a lot more than I would have if I was being told to read only Archies or Sherlock Holmes. To cut a very long story short, the freedom helped; I did what I wanted and figured out what works best for me, as compared to someone (mostly parents) trying to figure that out on my behalf. It's always better to show a child everything and then ask him to make a conscious choice, than to fill his/her mind with you own prejudices. And its a folly to think that children arent capable of making choices. If children were let free with an un-prejudiced mind, you'd be amazed at the number of times they chose the right over what is seemingly bad. No child loves violence or gets a kick out of seeing blood; every child does get curious about sex, but I have yet to see one that will consciously prefer porn over cartoons. However, this will happen only if kids weren't trained to to or be what is expected of them and are given that choice to do and be in accordance with who they are.

Its ok if my cousin watches her Star TV occasionally, but I'd also want her to watch other stuff : cartoons, the news, music. I'd like her to draw, paint and sing and while this seems to be a case of my expectations riding roughshod over what she'd want to do herself, it isn't. I really wouldn't want her to draw when she'd rather sing, but I'd like her to give drawing a shot anyway. Rather than stick to the straight and narrow, explore. You never know what you may find. As adults, we pass on our set of prejudices to our children; in this case, my aversion to bimbette-producing television shows. There are orthodox parents who rear their children within the confines of what they themselves have explored and found safe, and there are those who would like to rear their children within the confines of what they themselves have explored and found safe, but can't due to circumstances. It's often the latter set of parents who succeed in putting forth responsible adults like your's truly.