The Trauma of Online Shows

When Modiji announced the lockdown to the nation in that innocent summer of 2020, I had no idea my life was going to change so drastically.

I was completely unprepared. I had no booze with me, and no herbs to help me sail through the tough times. A friend had left a few bottles of wine in our flat, and I promptly guzzled them down in a few days. With the constant news and mania surrounding our daily lives, my sanity took a hit. I played PUBG all day, and lay in bed like Kaikeyi in Ramayana.

When the second lockdown was announced, I was better prepared. The Telangana government thankfully kept wine shops open. And even though Vijay Mallya has been in the UK for a long time, his products ensured I was in the right spirits. The Gods in heaven ensured that my friends didn’t have to fly to Sanjeevani for crucial supplies.

But the worst part of the lockdown really was how it killed all my sources of income. I perform standup, review films, and write scripts and screenplays for films. I sometimes wish I hadn’t quit my job with Microsoft, so I could continue to rake in the moolah while sitting at home. When I look at my friends in software, I sometimes turn absinthe with envy. But who can argue with the urge to ‘pursue my passion’?

Films don’t release during lockdowns, so my weekly pleasure of watching a film and analysing it was lost. Writing for scripts and screenplays doesn’t pay anyway, so it isn’t too much to deal with. And finally, there is the issue of standup comedy. With lockdowns come the bane of modern standup comedians – ONLINE SHOWS.

With venues shut, we all assumed it would be a good time to get a lot of first-time audience to attend standup shows. They can watch from anywhere in the world, and the tickets are a lot cheaper, we reasoned with ourselves. And enthusiastically put up a series of online shows for people to attend. Little did we know of the issues that would plague online shows.

For one, there is no mic, seating, or performance area. Which means we get audience members lying down like Vishnu on their beds, or sitting on their commode like they are featuring in a 90s ad for piles. Then there are kids who have been asked to study, but are using their tabs to log into comedy shows. There are those that are lying down on their beds with a glass of whiskey, making us all feel like mujra dancers performing for Arab sheikhs. There are gentlemen (mostly men – I find that women are usually more presentable) who are so happy with their dinner that they chew their food during the show. High-definition cameras of today ensure I can tell if he’s having Paneer Butter Masala or Paneer Lababdaar.

Then there are those that will refuse to switch on their cameras or mics. Like Death Eaters waiting for Voldemort to rise, these people will silently observe the show – watching as comics continue to talk to empty rooms and rectangular blanks instead of people’s faces. And of course, there are those that were Mughal kings in their previous births. For them, the work of a comedian is to speak to THEM directly. After every joke, they will add their own comments, often bringing the entire joke to a crashing halt. Like Akbar rewarding Birbal for a joke, they will clap and declare their love or hatred for the joke.

It is in moments like this that I envy musicians. They can continue performing their jokes even if the audience completely mutes their mics. For us, it is important that we receive SOME sort of feedback from the viewers. And the income disparity in India is prominently visible during online comedy shows. For those with high-speed internet, the joke is immediately delivered. But for those with 3G connections, or those who are travelling – the joke takes a few seconds to reach. This means that after I deliver the punch line, there is a deafening silence. And when I have grudgingly moved on to the premise of the next joke, I hear a loud round of laughter! 

What makes it worse is that I usually perform in Hyderabad, the city with the best standup comedy audience. People of Hyderabad are too chilled out to take offence to anything. I have been performing in the city since 8 years now, only twice have I been interrupted in the middle of a show – once by a vegan, and another time by a woke person who interrupted the show to ask if the joke was on the comic, or if it was transphobic. Needless to say, neither of them were from Hyderabad.

Some audiences from other cities come to a standup show LOOKING for offence. They are minutely scrutinising every line, looking for the exact lines to get offended by. But Hyderabad has been kind to me. The people here can take a joke on their language, their religion, their culture, and their cinema. Or it could be that they are simply too lazy to take offence to anything at all!

The problem (as with the real advantage) with online shows that people can join from anywhere in the world. Sometimes, it is late at night in the US. And while I appreciate the efforts of people from the West attending my show, to see them yawn right in front of my face when I begin is disheartening. Then there are those who have seen a few videos on YouTube, and turn up on the show asking you to perform a joke that they heard.

It’s hard to explain to them that standup comedy is not a mushaira, and I can’t simply perform a line that somebody else wrote. Then there are those who begin the show enthusiastically. But every comedy show has a dip – so the comic can build it up towards his final point/joke/punchline. Without this, I’ll look like the love-child of Jim Carrey and Johnny Lever. But as soon as there’s a dip, they turn around and give this expression to the person sitting next to them:

And then there are those who have planned a party – you can see the bottles of whiskey lying around, and the laughter of Kauravas on their faces. These are usually the best kind of audiences – they have bought tickets to have a good time, and alcohol is known to work wonders on people’s sense of humour. That is until they love the joke so much, they repeat it to the person next to them, and high-five each other!

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As Modiji is gearing up to announce another lockdown to the nation, I am prepared in every other way. I have asked friends who own restaurants to keep a few bottles aside for me. Friends with shady co-friends have been assigned to speed-dials. My hard-disk has been dusted and kept ready for films that aren’t available on OTT platforms. And old friends Osho and Alan Watts have been added to playlists. 

The only thing left is to perform standup comedy. And this is where things might get murky. In case of a lockdown, I will be adding a number of online shows. You can watch them from anywhere, from the comfort of your home. If there are enough people from your continent, (as an experienced nocturnal creature), I could add a few extra shows that are conducive to your time zones.

But if you DO attend my online shows, please remember to keep your mics and cameras on. Please do not chew food or interrupt the flow of the show. And please, for the love of Pandit Gangadhar Vidyadhar Mayadhar Omkarnath Shastri, do not sit on the toilet while listening to my jokes. 

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