Crass Comedy

Kunal Kamra, India’s self-proclaimed dissenter-in-chief, has again made news - not for wit, but for predictable provocation. His recent stand-up routine in Mumbai where he mocked Maharashtra’s Deputy Chief Minister and Shiv Sena leader Eknath Shinde, triggered an expected political backlash as Sena workers ransacked the venue, filed police complaints and threatened Kamra with dire consequences. Sena leaders accused him of being a “contract comedian” on the Shiv Sena (UBT)’s payroll.

While certain online ‘liberals’ and leaders like Aaditya Thackeray are making this out to be a case of rising intolerance, this episode, in fact, lays bare the sorry state of Indian stand-up comedy. Kamra is no fearless satirist but a partisan hack in a comic’s garb, using his platform less for humour and more as a cudgel for his ideological leanings. His act mocking Shinde, like much of his material, was neither clever nor insightful but a lazy political jab dressed up as comedy, delivered not to entertain but to provoke. His jokes have been predictable, his targets repetitive and his style devoid of nuance.

This is emblematic of the larger decay in the Indian stand-up genre, which has morphed into a refuge for self-righteous political commentators masquerading as comedians. Much of it is neither subversive nor funny but crude, tasteless and unoriginal. Kamra and fellow comedian Samay Raina frequently perform their controversial acts at the Habitat Comedy Club in Mumbai, a venue that has become synonymous with inflammatory content.

Cheap sex jokes and foul language have increasingly replaced Indian observational comedy and satire. Vir Das, another comic who thrives on political controversy, has made a career out of pandering to Western audiences with a predictable mix of self-flagellation and righteous posturing. Instead of engaging with complex issues, Indian comedians peddle easy outrage, appealing to echo chambers rather than audiences. The audience laps it up, proving that India’s comedy scene seemingly values provocation over intelligence.

More disturbing is the hypocrisy. Many so-called comedians claim to stand for free speech but operate within narrow ideological confines. Kamra and his ilk routinely mock Hindu traditions and attack the ruling party but seldom direct their barbs at opposition politicians or controversial figures from the left. Where are their scathing takes on dynastic politics, corruption within so-called ‘secular’ parties or Islamist extremism? The courage they claim to wield is selective. Unlike the likes of Jon Stewart or Ricky Gervais, who skewer both sides, Indian stand-ups have reduced themselves to mouthpieces for one faction.

This intellectual dishonesty is why Indian stand-up remains shallow and ineffective. It fails to capture the breadth of cultural tensions or provide sharp, self-reflective humour. Instead, it serves as a means for self-congratulatory grandstanding. The controversy surrounding Kamra is not about free speech but about bad comedy masquerading as political resistance. If stand-up in India is to be taken seriously, it must first clean its house and most importantly, learn to be funny.