This is a struggle, hold on, and wait!! It isn’t, the spotlight is on, the audience cheering and at times booing. I bomb; I jeer and I cringe but that’s the only way out. Conflicting thoughts inside the head, a tussle of sorts. I hold a picture, somewhat blurred but that has to fade, for I can’t risk myself at blowing this up. The joke might hit them hard or boomerang back to me, right in the gut and I might fall flat on my face, trying to cover up what I hold within.
The stage: has been something I’ve held close to my heart for as long as I can remember, from extempore speeches to debates, from quizzes to even head banging at times. Comedy has just begun, a new dimension to the affair I’ve developed over the years. Not quite sure if at all it’s comedy or ‘comedy of errors’ for nothing can be error-free, certainly when facts are presented with puns. Walking on a rope, an invisible one, balancing offence and defence, wit and humour and common sense isn’t just a job, but a ritual. A passion to dish out comedy at the expense of self-depreciation; to compensate the lack of self-confidence; it isn’t tiring, this is liberating. For the stage isn’t a black hole that would suck me in like the massive egos of people who make the world up, the stage doesn’t judge me; people do and above all else; it’s the hallowed altar where I slay my demons; if at all I can.
But, this isn’t fun; not all the time though, opening the gates of the mouth to let the minds of those in the audience to feast upon the thoughts that you have; not really yours; they are but then again, it’s a battle I have to fight. The truth at times has nothing to do with anyone; in general, but the offence does, and offence like HIV is contagious, sensible ones stay protected. It does open a can of worms, more often than not those in audience handing over the opener, but then the onus is on me not to spill the stuff on them, I gotta smear it all over myself and act cool, perhaps, a ritual as I pull out the sword to fight the demons; those by then start hovering on the invisible clouds of my mind. This battle is mine, join in; have fun, laugh along for you know not where this is heading.
They say, most comics are depressed; well, they are, and most of them are. I am no comic by the way, I am trying to be one, this isn’t just a passion, it is a therapy. Underneath the veil of laughter, there lies rotten shit, facts and grudges; superimposed, concealed with the right amount of humour. This isn’t about battling the system, or stereotypes or standard norms or a status quo; this has more to do with me trying to escape from myself, an attempt at flipping the bird free from the imaginary cage of my solitary mind. Humor is hard to create, not hard to find; setting it in context is harder but the treading on the fine invisible line that separates approval from offence is the hardest. Being judged and perceived to be what I am not are the perks the stage offers, the sash of being a sarcastic insensitive prick and nasty asshole decorates the shoulder that now feels light, the monkey’s off finally. What about an Encore?? Well, let me pull out my sword; please.
P.S: This ain’t no joke; this is serious business. Chuckle, giggle or Laugh out loud; for this won’t cease, the demons won’t judge me unlike you.
abhishek purkayastha 