This artiste is using stand-up and anger to question power and identity
The premise of Meanwhile is deceptively simple: look around and ask what exactly is going on. From politics and identity to culture and everyday behaviour, Manjeet Sarkar finds humour in the contradictions that surround us.
A stand-up set that probes marginalisation, identity and power, asking what we’re really doing even as the audience laughs
Yet beneath the laughs lies a comedian deeply interested in understanding how people think. Ahead of the show, Manjeet reflects on comedy as craft and questioning the status quo.
Can you tell us a bit about your show Meanwhile and what can the audience expect from it?
In Meanwhile, I am basically looking at everything that’s happening around us and asking, ‘What the hell are we doing?’
It’s a stand-up show, but I’m not interested in making it just a collection of jokes about the news or politics. A lot of the show is about the absurdity of the world we live in — caste, nationalism, culture, power, identity, and also my own place in all of this.
I think the audience can expect to laugh, obviously. But hopefully they also leave with one or two thoughts they weren’t expecting to have when they walked into a comedy show. And then maybe they can blame me for ruining their evening.
Your comedy draws from the realities of marginalised communities. When did you realise comedy could be a way of speaking about these issues?
I became a comedian because I thought I was funny. Then I started talking about my life, and obviously my life comes with my background, my experiences and the way I’ve seen the world.
If you’re a rich kid, you’ll probably have jokes about rich-kid problems. If you’re a guy who’s had 17 girlfriends, you’ll probably have a lot of girlfriend jokes. If you’ve spent your whole life in a particular environment, that’s going to show up in your comedy. I’m no different.The funny thing is that when someone from a marginalised background talks about their own life, people immediately call it ‘social commentary.’ Sometimes it’s just Tuesday.
Comedy has the ability to make uncomfortable subjects easier to talk about. Do you see laughter as a form of resistance?
Sometimes laughter is resistance. Sometimes it’s just because somebody said something stupid. That’s what I like about comedy. It doesn’t always have to make sense.
Historically comedy has always been used as resistance, laughter can take power away from things that are designed to intimidate you. If someone tells you something is sacred, untouchable or too serious to question, making a joke about it is a very simple way of saying, “Actually, I don’t agree that you get to decide that.”
That’s probably why authoritarian people have always had a problem with comedians. A joke can reduce something very powerful to a punchline in about 10 seconds.
What does your writing process usually look like?
Usually something happens that makes me laugh, annoys me or makes me think, ‘What is wrong with us?’ That’s where it starts.Then I obsess over it. I’ll keep asking myself why it’s funny, what’s actually absurd about it, whether I’m laughing at the situation or just angry about it, and whether there’s a contradiction somewhere. Sometimes there’s a joke there. Sometimes there isn’t. And you write and work on it. That’s the part nobody sees. People see the five-minute clip that works. They don’t see the 30 versions of the joke that died horrible deaths before that.
Does anger hold a place in your comedy?
Absolutely. I think anger is one of the most useful emotions for a comedian. But anger itself isn’t funny. ‘I am angry about this’ isn’t a joke. You have to sit with the anger long enough to understand it. Why am I angry? What exactly is ridiculous here? Am I angry because something is genuinely messed up, or am I angry because my ego got hurt?
Both can become jokes. And sometimes making a joke about something is the only way I can stop being angry about it. You take something that made you furious, turn it around, find the absurdity in it, and suddenly 300 people are laughing. That’s a pretty good deal.
Has the Indian stand-up scene has become more inclusive?
It’s definitely become more inclusive. There are more voices, more cities, more kinds of people doing comedy than when I started. But I think we still have a very narrow idea of what ‘inclusive’ means.
For a long time, the default Indian stand-up comedian was a fairly predictable urban, middle-class, talking about dating, parents, corporate jobs, relationships, Bengaluru traffic, etc. There’s nothing wrong with any of that. But when someone from outside that template comes on stage, suddenly their comedy gets categorised. They’re a ‘Dalit comedian,’ a ‘woman comedian,’ a ‘queer comedian,’ a ‘regional comedian.’ Real diversity means sometimes you’re going to hear a story you don’t understand immediately. You’re going to hear an opinion you don’t share. You might even be uncomfortable. That’s okay.
That’s ultimately what I’m interested in, not being a representative of anything. Not being the guy who comes on stage to explain marginalisation. I’m a comedian. And I happen to have a life that nobody else has lived. There isn’t another Manjeet Sarkar. So I might as well make the most of that.