Yesterday was bleak. Word of Jaspal Bhatti's death trickled in, and took a while to sink in. Soon enough, that sinking feeling surfaced yet again.
A particular slice of hilarity is no longer part of our lives. The news brought back those evenings when we, as a family then, sat worshiping the idiot box as Flop Show came on. Back then, TV entertainment was showing early signs of decay. But here was a programme that strove, and succeeded, in taking the drab out and giving us what we needed the most at that time -- a reason to laugh at the world around us and laugh at ourselves.
When Flop Show days were over, Jaspal Bhatti could be seen in odd news, spoofing government policies, berating inflationary trends, and that was that. There were a few largely forgettable Hindi movies, but blame Bollywood for roping in a talent just for the name and then killing it. Somehow, Jaspal Bhatti never seemed to let this set him back. His humour, when independent of constraint from producers and filmmakers, remained undiluted.
Today, the route comedy takes on popular TV channels is far removed from Jaspal Bhatti's. His was never below-the-belt humour. It was cerebral, never personal. It never needed a double entendre as a tool to rouse a few sniggers. What he has left behind is a very tough act to follow.
Who else could take a jibe at the political and bureaucratic practices of those times without inviting charges of libel, sedition? Perhaps he was not an activist, all he wanted to do was kindle among people that spark to fight, to be activists at a personal level. It was not a rebellion, but a laugh riot. It did not require anyone to be manhandled and paraded in streets, face blackened and all. The way he poked fun would secretly put to shame the ones he aimed his humour at.
I don't know if that changed any lives, but it certainly did leave an imprint. Why else, after so many years then, would his death have affected many of us?
Why am I affected? Having heard and read the likes of Shail Chaturvedi, Kaka Hathrasi, Shreelal Shukl, I'd often wanted to be able to express humour in similar vein. Jaspal Bhatti perhaps taught me that one needn't necessarily go the hasya kavi way. In my teens, I aspired to be a satirist, but in those days writers, let alone humorists, were considered an abomination -- it was not a "profession" for your kin to be proud of, for it did not guarantee money, security and marriage. The dream is still alive. Somewhere in my mind, Jaspal Bhatti's laugh riot still trounces the dreary day-to-day tedium. Someday, perhaps, it will be.
Here's to Ulta Pulta. Here's to Flop Show.
Here's to the Laugh Out Loud moment that is now gone.
When Flop Show days were over, Jaspal Bhatti could be seen in odd news, spoofing government policies, berating inflationary trends, and that was that. There were a few largely forgettable Hindi movies, but blame Bollywood for roping in a talent just for the name and then killing it. Somehow, Jaspal Bhatti never seemed to let this set him back. His humour, when independent of constraint from producers and filmmakers, remained undiluted.
Today, the route comedy takes on popular TV channels is far removed from Jaspal Bhatti's. His was never below-the-belt humour. It was cerebral, never personal. It never needed a double entendre as a tool to rouse a few sniggers. What he has left behind is a very tough act to follow.
Who else could take a jibe at the political and bureaucratic practices of those times without inviting charges of libel, sedition? Perhaps he was not an activist, all he wanted to do was kindle among people that spark to fight, to be activists at a personal level. It was not a rebellion, but a laugh riot. It did not require anyone to be manhandled and paraded in streets, face blackened and all. The way he poked fun would secretly put to shame the ones he aimed his humour at.
I don't know if that changed any lives, but it certainly did leave an imprint. Why else, after so many years then, would his death have affected many of us?
Why am I affected? Having heard and read the likes of Shail Chaturvedi, Kaka Hathrasi, Shreelal Shukl, I'd often wanted to be able to express humour in similar vein. Jaspal Bhatti perhaps taught me that one needn't necessarily go the hasya kavi way. In my teens, I aspired to be a satirist, but in those days writers, let alone humorists, were considered an abomination -- it was not a "profession" for your kin to be proud of, for it did not guarantee money, security and marriage. The dream is still alive. Somewhere in my mind, Jaspal Bhatti's laugh riot still trounces the dreary day-to-day tedium. Someday, perhaps, it will be.
Here's to Ulta Pulta. Here's to Flop Show.
Here's to the Laugh Out Loud moment that is now gone.
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