Page 15 of 12 Years
The train screeched to its fifteen-second halt at Lower Parel. A sea of humanity rushed out of the train doors like toothpaste extruding out of a tube, extracting me along with it.
When I entered the Crayon Club, it was mostly empty. Only Mudit was there, giving instructions to some workers placing plastic seats behind the last row.
Mudit high-fived me when I walked up to him.
‘We’re sold out,’ he said. ‘Oversold, rather. It’s not allowed, but I’m adding a temporary row at the back and mattresses on the floor in front of the first row.’
‘Amazing,’ I said.
‘All set for your act?’ Mudit said.
‘Freaking out on the inside. There are big, established comedy stars performing today. And I’m in the same show.’
‘Exactly. My brother is getting into the big league,’ Mudit said, slapping my back. ‘Wow, those are some serious back muscles, dude. That gym membership is paying off, huh?’
‘Trying my best,’ I said.
‘Do the same here,’ Mudit said, fist-bumping me. ‘Stay calm, okay? And kill it.’
‘Anyone married here?’ I said, scanning the crowd.
Around half of the hundred-and-twenty-plus audience in the packed auditorium raised their hands.
‘Damn, no wonder all of you are here to cure your depression,’ I said.
Titters ran through the crowd.
‘Who got married the north Indian way?’ I said.
Some twenty people raised their hands.
‘And who had a south Indian wedding? Also known as the six-in-the-morning, no-fun torture wedding?’
Laughter rippled through the crowd. Five people raised their hands.
‘Okay, I had a north Indian wedding. And now I’m going through a north Indian divorce too, but that’s a different story.’
The audience laughed heartily.
‘No, seriously, north Indian divorces have their own drama, just like north Indian weddings do. I don’t know about other moms, but Punjabi moms have their own unique stylewhen it comes to dealing with their sons’ divorces. Today, my mother actually apologized to me for finding my wife for me.’
A few in the audience went ‘aww’.
‘Then she said, “I thought they were simple people.” What’s this Indian obsession with simple people, really? Who exactly
are these “simple people”? More importantly, who are the “complex people”?’
Laughter in the audience. I kept going with the improvised set.
‘Punjabi moms are also great at switching their affection. At the start of the same call, when my mother still had hopes that my marriage could survive, she said my wife was “just like her daughter”. Then, when I told her that her supposed daughter wants a huge settlement, my mom said, “I knew she was an evil witch. Chudail.” Punjabi moms can go from “like my daughter” to “chudail” in a few seconds, I tell you.’
A loud burst of laughter.
In the far-left corner of the club, I saw a door open and a girl enter. It was Payal. She sat on one of the plastic chairs in the last row.
‘Anyway, I’m getting screwed in my divorce settlement. I had to get screwed. You see, I’m an extra-trusting sort of a guy. Like I even believe all the ads on TV. You guys have heard of Axe deodorants?’
Many in the audience nodded and said yes.
