Our inability to laugh at ourselves

We think we are funny because most people do. But if we really were, it would reflect in our actions against those who say something irreverent to us. Representation pic

It happens like clockwork, every other month or so. Someone, somewhere, reads a column and decides to get in touch with the newspaper it is published in, to air a grievance or put forth another point of view. Some people believe this is a good thing, because it encourages dialogue and allows us to exchange ideas, leading to collective learning in the process. I believe it is a waste of time and we end up taking ourselves a little too seriously because, sometimes, a column is just a column.

Indians don't have a sense of humour. We like to think we do, but that veneer is paper-thin, easily torn the minute someone says the wrong thing about what we believe to be sacrosanct. The list of these sacred objects that we hold dear in our minds is as long as our borders, so there always are a few million people losing their temper at a few million others, every second. The chances that this paragraph has already annoyed someone is extremely high. It's time we accepted this truth about ourselves. We are a touchy bunch of people.

Outrage can be a good thing if it leads to genuine change. Unfortunately for us, all it creates is a vicious cycle of endless trauma, with real collateral damage in the real world. We slap our thighs and laugh at jokes, but only when they aren't aimed at ourselves.

When I was young, I used to find this touchiness amusing. I assumed the people I grew up with saw the ridiculousness of this state of being too, and assumed we would all grow up to be sensible adults with a more measured view of the world. I was wrong. So wrong, in fact, that I ended up breaking ties with a lot of these people simply because they turned into older versions of their parents. It taught me that bigotry and prejudice don't jump generations as much as we would like them to.

A nation that can laugh at itself is a mature one. It signifies a sense of security that stems from knowing what it is, and what position it occupies in the world at large. To examine the consensus on the funniest nations in the world is a revealing exercise. The English and Americans rank high, apparently, because they revel in their sarcasm and irreverence. The Irish are also celebrated for these qualities, along with a few surprising countries like Serbia and Egypt. Whenever India finds mention, if at all, it is for its jokes about communities. That is a telling comment, because it reveals how much of our humour relies upon making someone the butt of our jokes. There is always a target, and it is never planted on ourselves.

We like to think of ourselves as funny because most people do. However, if we really were that funny, it would reflect in our actions against those who say something irreverent to us. One can only try saying something impudent in a group WhatsApp chat with family members to disavow oneself of that notion in a hurry. Irreverence is frowned upon because our uncles and aunties confuse it with a lack of respect. It's why we slipped so easily into becoming the kind of country where stand-up comics go to jail for cracking jokes that we can't stomach.

Maybe I'm being too harsh though. Maybe we do like to laugh at ourselves, but keep that side hidden because we are such an emotional people. Maybe it's because anger is more important to us than humour. This could explain why we don't protest when funny people are censured in public, why jokes are censored, and why artists, writers, or filmmakers are warned about hurting sentiments before they even begin creating a work of art. India has been an independent nation, at least on paper, for decades now. Maybe we need a century or two more to emerge into a state of security that allows us to be more temperate, and more accepting of alternative voices. Maybe my complaint is invalid because I am just impatient and can't wait for that to happen.

I live in hope though. I know there's a funny bone in each of us that comes to life during every election cycle. I know this funny bone is tickled just before we step into those election booths and prepare to cast our secret ballots. Why else would we elect so many clowns to represent us in government?

When he isn't ranting about all things Mumbai, Lindsay Pereira can be almost sweet. He tweets @lindsaypereira

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The views expressed in this column are the individual's and don't represent those of the paper