In search of humour
We laugh because we exist. And there are millions of reasons to laugh at. But we tend to laugh at what we innately designate as laughable. We don’t laugh at those who represent our country at the Olympics and come up last in their respective categories. Despite their failures, they inspire us. We laugh at what amuses our core. For instance, bad movies. We do this despite knowing very well that none of those involved in its making woke up in the morning and brushed their teeth hoping to make a bad movie.
That’s not how it works.
Yet, that’s how life sucks.
Humour, as ironic as it may sound, is a funny business. Nobody except you gets to decide what is what. To some, Friends (1994–2004) is the funniest sitcom of all time. To others, it constituted the most hackneyed form of comedy. To each their own sense of amusement, right? Wrong. As we are evolving, aided by the ever-expanding tentacles of technology, we are witnessing a compulsive trend. If a group of people find something cool, you are meant to find it cool too. Failing which, you miraculously become uncool. Yes, you. Just like that. When winter is coming, on Tuesdays, your colleagues are going to discuss the latest episode of Game of Thrones (2011-) and you will be a pariah if you aren’t contributing to the chat. Of course, friendships don’t crumble based on stupid TV shows. However, we’re noticing the adhesive nature of pop culture in maintaining acquaintances nowadays.
Things acquire a monstrous shape when laughter is around. You can hide grief. You can’t hide humour. Which leads to peculiar questions. What did you laugh at? Are you the kind who chuckles at the most inane of activities? How fatal are your puns? Where do urban poor draw the line on poor jokes? Do you have a funny bone at all? Would you keep it down at a funeral? Why are your comebacks so slow? And so on. The reason is obvious. We behave in public. We restrain and restrict ourselves so much so that after a while, we are bona fide members of a group. Even at the cost of our individuality. Which is why laughing out loud at dead baby jokes makes us an evil person while it’s perfectly alright to laugh at bigoted Sardar jokes. The scale of acceptance depends on the group you are a part of. Different parameters for different folks. That’s how we roll in the twenty-first century.
Social media flashes a spotless mirror to understanding this behaviour. From a distance, it might appear as if everybody on the Internet is in for a laugh but on closer observation, you’ll realize that they want to laugh at others’ misery — not at ours. The distinction between you and the rest creates a chaotic setting where you need to pull them down to feel better about yourself. Humour is what suffers the most in such a scenario. A laughter should emanate from a corner without malice. Unfortunately, we are hearing less and less of it.
Fortunately, as the years pass by, our species is discovering newer objects to make fun of. Barely a century ago, it was impossible to throw hilarious jibes at the gods. Not anymore. Nobody is safe from the clutches of comedy. From Jesus on the cross to Mohammed on his camel to Rama with his monkey army, everybody can be encapsulated within a joke. After all, what harm can a joke do? Certainly not as much as those serious mavens in power can. So, there is hope for the free spirit as the frontiers are widening further. Chill is not a unit of weather. It is a state of mind now.
If we don’t carry on, maybe, just maybe, by the end of this century, humans would have run out of humour — an extreme example of paradox. Especially when automation takes over the entire planet. That might make Isaac Asimov roll in his grave but then, it could very well mark the height of progress. We always wanted more, much more than we needed. So much so we even forgot the art of letting things be. And if by design we reach a stage where the so-called advanced living being had turned into mere tools of the system, we must be able to celebrate the moment. After centuries of self-imposed decay of conscience, we would let our new masters do the right thing. Perhaps, then, and only then, we’ll be able to redeem ourselves for the damage we bestowed on this beautiful planet. That is also when the robots will have the last laugh.
[This post was written originally for Idiot’s Story.]
