Maharashtra Cyber has registered an FIR against stand-up comedians Pranit More, Himanshu Jangra, Dr Sejal Pawar and others over allegedly obscene content linked to a comedy show in Gurugram.
The FIR is not the story. The story is that it took an FIR for many Indians to realise that what passes off as stand-up comedy these days is often neither stand-up nor comedy.
A generation ago, comedians made audiences laugh at human folly. Today, too many merely test how much vulgarity can be packed into a microphone before somebody objects.
From wit to filth
Indian stand-up comedy began as a refreshing break from formulaic television humour. Observational comedy had charm. Satire had bite. Then somebody discovered that profanity was easier than punchlines.
Soon every second comic was discussing body parts, sexual encounters and bodily functions. A joke requires imagination. Obscenity merely requires vocabulary. Unfortunately, the latter is much easier.
The AIB template
The rot did not begin yesterday. All India Bakchod popularised a style in which abuse itself became the entertainment.
The AIB Roast was celebrated as edgy and groundbreaking. What it actually proved was that if enough celebrities sit on stage and enough swear words are thrown around, some people will mistake provocation for humour.
Many aspiring comics copied the language; few copied the timing and almost none copied the craft. The result was a generation of performers who believed that saying something offensive was the same as saying something funny.
The joke is on us
The modern stand-up circuit resembles a competition to identify the next target. Religions, regions, languages, men, women, parents and even the dead.
Sometimes even the audience is mocked for having paid to attend. The comedian walks away claiming artistic freedom. The audience walks away wondering where the joke was.
No freedom from criticism
The moment criticism arrives; many comedians suddenly discover constitutional law. Freedom of speech is invoked. Democracy is invoked. Creative liberty is invoked.
Nobody is asking comedians to seek government approval before telling jokes. But freedom of expression does not automatically convert bad comedy into good comedy. The Constitution protects speech. It does not guarantee laughter.
When words mattered
Long before comedy clubs and viral reels, Hindi kavi sammelans filled auditoriums across north India.
Poets such as Surendra Sharma could keep audiences laughing for hours without resorting to profanity. His famous observations about married life became popular not because they were offensive but because they were relatable.
The same tradition poked fun at politicians, bureaucracy, inflation and the absurdities of daily life. Humour came from observation, exaggeration and wordplay.
A comic had to observe society, understand language and construct a punchline. Today, too many performers simply throw a provocative statement at the audience and wait for nervous laughter.
Creative bankruptcy
What makes the decline particularly depressing is that India is overflowing with material.
We have politicians who create comedy accidentally, bureaucracies that create comedy systematically and television debates that create comedy continuously.
Yet many stand-up comics continue to mine the same exhausted territory between the waist and the knees.
Imagine possessing the world’s largest democracy as raw material and still ending up with jokes about anatomy. That is creative bankruptcy.
Crossing legal boundaries
The FIR against Pranit and others will eventually take its legal course. Courts will decide what crossed legal boundaries and what did not. But the larger verdict should come from audiences.
Comedy does not become sophisticated merely because it is offensive. Nor does vulgarity become intellectual because it is performed under stage lights.
For too long, Indian stand-up has mistaken shock for wit, abuse for satire and obscenity for originality. The audience deserves better. And so does comedy.
