Living is easy, Comedy is hard.
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Ankit
Mar 8, 2012, 10:38:04 AM3/8/12
to eggheads
Humor is one of the most complex emotions of the human psyche. If you
look hard enough, one could find humor in the simplest of things.
Though what might seem funny to you may not seem so to your neighbor.
Different folk’s different strokes, as they say.
Take Sagar for example, he is a sweet boy. Born in a nice family,
educated and overall, a decent human being. He has his own
personality, and along with that came his own unique brand of humor.
The kind of humor which only he understood, the kind that would make
others look at him with that peculiar look while he burst in
hysterics. He didn’t care, he loved to laugh. He was too optimistic,
not only did he find the positives in everything he found the humor in
the most unseemly of places.
Like when he was 14, he went to a funeral. The corpse’s mouth wouldn’t
close. Sagar sat next to it and tried 5-6 times, it just wouldn’t
close, the moment he would move his hand it would pop open. He would
have tried a few more had his father not dragged him away saying, “Now
leave your grandfather in peace, it’s not funny.” Perhaps it wasn’t.
He didn’t laugh, well not at that moment. Later in the privacy of his
head, he had a riot.
Laughter for him was like a sprint is to a stallion. He could do it in
a meadow or he could do it in the tracks. He didn’t care where as long
as he could run his heart out. In this case laugh, even if most of the
time the laugh was his. He loved comedy. He loved to read it, he loved
to watch it, and he loved to hear it. May it be American, Indian or
British. He absorbed to make his personal brand an amalgamation of
them all. To the point where he was switching accents so quick, his
eyes rolled in his head. That got more laughs than the joke.
His family and friends tried, they did try a lot. But eventually his
cousin just said it, “Next time you crack a joke and we are supposed
to laugh, raise your hand.” Or when his uncle joked, “Why don’t you
get one of those laughter tracks to play from those TV shows, so that
way we will know when the joke has ended.” Or when his tired mother
said, “Why don’t you stop with the sad jokes and do something better
with your life?”
He did good things with his life, his mother was proud. He went to a
nice school, got good grades, got into a decent university, landed a
great job. But the humor never left him. He found humor in everything.
When he ate food, studied a book or even answered nature’s call, his
crazy little head found humor in it all. He didn’t want to become an
actor or a comic. He had no temptation for the glamour and fame. It
was just the laughter that he needed. Throughout his time in school,
college or at work, he was always the one called upon to give a
humorous speech. And he rocked it each time. But that laughter didn’t
satisfy him, those jokes were not his. They were from books and
writers known to appeal to that particular audience.
Well he was used to it by now. His humor always got him funny looks.
In one case even a reference to the office shrink. How funny the
people were. They didn’t even know it, and they’d be making him laugh.
When a child on the street dropped his lollypop, Sagar would laugh,
he’d buy him another but he’d laugh. When he hears an old lady snort
in the middle of her chuckle, he laughs alongside her. Last week he
cut his finger when he raised his hands and hit the fan, he laughed.
The world is a funny place. Yet he stands alone trying to get that one
“Ha!” out of them.
When he was first introduced to his wife, his mother gushed, “My son
is so funny dear, he will keep you in splits.” Sagar just rolled his
eyes and laughed. Usually he was the only one in splits at his jokes.
Luckily for him, the girl turned out to be quite a gem. She took care
of his life, his family, his house and him. But she too couldn’t wrap
her head around his humor. There’s only so much fake laughing a woman
can do, and she exhausted hers between their first coffee and the
wedding. Sagar being Sagar, just smiled at the blank look on all their
faces at his jokes. He didn’t mind it, in fact he would mind it if he
heard a giggle.
Two years into matrimony, the family was blessed with a beautiful baby
girl. She was so tiny. Sagar couldn’t help but laugh at how delicate
she was. His heart just doubled in size the first time he held her, he
felt so much love for her he couldn’t believe it. One day, after work.
Sagar was crouched upon her cradle telling her about his day. Just as
he finished narrating a funny incident about the office coffee machine
breaking and him having to have tea, he heard an unfamiliar “He-he-
Ha!” from below. Looking down into the cute little source, “He-he-Ha!”
there it was again. Could it happen? Was that giggle for him? He
couldn’t help himself. He just had to pick up the giggling child and
hold her.
Finally, someone understood him, someone other than him laughed… a
true, genuine, non-fake laugh.
“He-he-Ha!!”
look hard enough, one could find humor in the simplest of things.
Though what might seem funny to you may not seem so to your neighbor.
Different folk’s different strokes, as they say.
Take Sagar for example, he is a sweet boy. Born in a nice family,
educated and overall, a decent human being. He has his own
personality, and along with that came his own unique brand of humor.
The kind of humor which only he understood, the kind that would make
others look at him with that peculiar look while he burst in
hysterics. He didn’t care, he loved to laugh. He was too optimistic,
not only did he find the positives in everything he found the humor in
the most unseemly of places.
Like when he was 14, he went to a funeral. The corpse’s mouth wouldn’t
close. Sagar sat next to it and tried 5-6 times, it just wouldn’t
close, the moment he would move his hand it would pop open. He would
have tried a few more had his father not dragged him away saying, “Now
leave your grandfather in peace, it’s not funny.” Perhaps it wasn’t.
He didn’t laugh, well not at that moment. Later in the privacy of his
head, he had a riot.
Laughter for him was like a sprint is to a stallion. He could do it in
a meadow or he could do it in the tracks. He didn’t care where as long
as he could run his heart out. In this case laugh, even if most of the
time the laugh was his. He loved comedy. He loved to read it, he loved
to watch it, and he loved to hear it. May it be American, Indian or
British. He absorbed to make his personal brand an amalgamation of
them all. To the point where he was switching accents so quick, his
eyes rolled in his head. That got more laughs than the joke.
His family and friends tried, they did try a lot. But eventually his
cousin just said it, “Next time you crack a joke and we are supposed
to laugh, raise your hand.” Or when his uncle joked, “Why don’t you
get one of those laughter tracks to play from those TV shows, so that
way we will know when the joke has ended.” Or when his tired mother
said, “Why don’t you stop with the sad jokes and do something better
with your life?”
He did good things with his life, his mother was proud. He went to a
nice school, got good grades, got into a decent university, landed a
great job. But the humor never left him. He found humor in everything.
When he ate food, studied a book or even answered nature’s call, his
crazy little head found humor in it all. He didn’t want to become an
actor or a comic. He had no temptation for the glamour and fame. It
was just the laughter that he needed. Throughout his time in school,
college or at work, he was always the one called upon to give a
humorous speech. And he rocked it each time. But that laughter didn’t
satisfy him, those jokes were not his. They were from books and
writers known to appeal to that particular audience.
Well he was used to it by now. His humor always got him funny looks.
In one case even a reference to the office shrink. How funny the
people were. They didn’t even know it, and they’d be making him laugh.
When a child on the street dropped his lollypop, Sagar would laugh,
he’d buy him another but he’d laugh. When he hears an old lady snort
in the middle of her chuckle, he laughs alongside her. Last week he
cut his finger when he raised his hands and hit the fan, he laughed.
The world is a funny place. Yet he stands alone trying to get that one
“Ha!” out of them.
When he was first introduced to his wife, his mother gushed, “My son
is so funny dear, he will keep you in splits.” Sagar just rolled his
eyes and laughed. Usually he was the only one in splits at his jokes.
Luckily for him, the girl turned out to be quite a gem. She took care
of his life, his family, his house and him. But she too couldn’t wrap
her head around his humor. There’s only so much fake laughing a woman
can do, and she exhausted hers between their first coffee and the
wedding. Sagar being Sagar, just smiled at the blank look on all their
faces at his jokes. He didn’t mind it, in fact he would mind it if he
heard a giggle.
Two years into matrimony, the family was blessed with a beautiful baby
girl. She was so tiny. Sagar couldn’t help but laugh at how delicate
she was. His heart just doubled in size the first time he held her, he
felt so much love for her he couldn’t believe it. One day, after work.
Sagar was crouched upon her cradle telling her about his day. Just as
he finished narrating a funny incident about the office coffee machine
breaking and him having to have tea, he heard an unfamiliar “He-he-
Ha!” from below. Looking down into the cute little source, “He-he-Ha!”
there it was again. Could it happen? Was that giggle for him? He
couldn’t help himself. He just had to pick up the giggling child and
hold her.
Finally, someone understood him, someone other than him laughed… a
true, genuine, non-fake laugh.
“He-he-Ha!!”
Message has been deleted
Prashant Anand
Mar 10, 2012, 3:39:28 AM3/10/12
to egghead...@googlegroups.com
A narration of a personality; Could not understand the core of the story. The child sharing a laugh seemed out of context and a bit symbolic.
This could be a story with some well narrated situations bringing out genuine laughter on faces of people with different personalities and approach to laughter and its meaning.
Regards
Prashant Anand
Ankit
Mar 11, 2012, 1:00:49 PM3/11/12
to eggheads
well you have hit the nail right on the head Prashant
I wrote the story and I myself feel a disconnect with it.
it rambles on, the incidents seem abrupt something is just not right.
Then I thought maybe I could use it as a character sketch to base a
story on.
Still confused about Sagar here
I wrote the story and I myself feel a disconnect with it.
it rambles on, the incidents seem abrupt something is just not right.
Then I thought maybe I could use it as a character sketch to base a
story on.
Still confused about Sagar here
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