How Hari Kondabalu gets it wrong about Apu (and what stand-up comics can learn from Chris Rock)

Indian-American comedian, Hari Kondabalu, was in the news recently for a documentary he produced called The Problem With Apu. It argues that the eponymous character in iconic TV show The Simpsons is an offensive racial stereotype and an affront to Indians the world over. Kondabalu uses the same device in his stand-up routine — plucking the low hanging fruit of identity-based outrage to elicit laughs from the audience. The other familiar tropes in his routine include jokes about Trump, gay rights and the Indian propensity for mangoes.

It is revealing that the documentary does not feature a single convenience store owner, on whom the Apu character is based. Kondabalu is probably aware that first generation working class immigrants from India are not likely to share his views on Apu. Who has the time to wallow in self-pity and faux outrage when there are far more important things to take care of, like putting food on the table and putting ones kids through school?

In the film and his live performances, Kondabalu sounds eager to wear the halo of victimhood and to be anointed the authentic voice of the diaspora. Most second generation Indian-Americans like him grow up in comfortable middle-class households, are educated at the best schools and colleges in the country and end up working at corporations, banks and hospitals.

If anything, Kondabalu is as privileged as his white counterparts. He did not have to risk life and limb trekking across a brutal, unforgiving desert to seek a better life in America as Mexican immigrants often do or endure the crushing humiliation of Jim Crow or racial segregation as the Blacks had to.

As if to demonstrate just how privileged they are, a large group of Hindu-Americans recently came out in support of Trump’s proposed “great wall”, designed to straddle the nearly 3000 mile US-Mexico border, to prevent Mexicans from crossing into the United States. They offered to pay for the wall in exchange for faster processing of green cards and H1-B visas. These Indians have no qualms supporting xenophobic anti-immigration legislation, as long as they get their green cards on time.

In a show peopled by misfits and oddballs, which pokes fun at all its characters, Apu comes across as one of the most endearing and likeable characters of the lot, a paean to Indian resilience and adaptability. “The controversy about the stereotyping is classist snobbery — Indians in America don't want to be reminded of a certain kind of immigrant from their country — the shop keepers, the taxi drivers, the burger flippers," says Siddharth Bhatia, founding editor of The Wire, in an interview.

"They would rather project only Silicon Valley successes, the Wall Street players and the Ivy League products, with the proper accents, people they meet for dinner — by itself a stereotype. The millions of Apus in America, the salt-of-the-earth types, with their less “posh” accents, are an inconvenience to that self-image of this small group of Indian-Americans."

Most desi entertainers in India and the diaspora have an atavistic fear of offending their parents, schoolteachers and assorted uncles and aunties, ingrained in them from early childhood, which results in bland and dreary performances.

Kondabalu was heckled at one of his shows by none other than African-American comic Tracey Morgan, for being a poser and for not “keeping it real”.

He could learn a thing or two from Chris Rock, an equal opportunity offender not afraid to burn a few bridges to get his point across. His latest routine Tambourine, coming in the wake of a messy divorce, is a shining example of Rock’s versatile, rough-hewn genius. His acerbic commentary on race, politics and relationships is balanced with candid, self-deprecating introspection. He comes up with one-liners on race relations in America worthy of being framed and hung on a wall: “Some say young black men are an endangered species. That’s not true, because endangered species are protected by the government.” 

He admits to being a shitty husband who cheated on his wife: "I f*cked up," he declares, grin vanishing mid-sentence. "Divorce, man. It's my fault, ‘cause I'm a f*cking as*hole. I wasn't a good husband. I didn't listen. I wasn't kind.”

Beat.

"I cheated. I was on the road and ended up sleeping with three different women. It's f*cked up." Smile back on his face, Rock turns his gaze at the audience: “Every woman in here is like, ‘F*ck you, Chris. I thought you was all right. You? Come on, Chris. What the f*ck is wrong with you? What the f*ck is wrong with men?’ Every woman in here is thinking that and every guy in here is going, ‘Three? That’s it? Just three? Goddamn, ni**a. I work at UPS. I got more h*s than that. Three? You must have really loved your wife. You’re a romantic.’”

“F*ck your partner even if you're not in the mood,” he advises the audience, before describing his failed attempt at hitting on Rihanna and having her regard him like an uncle.

Without breaking into sweat he tells us how his porn habit affected his sex life: “What happens when you watch too much porn is you get desensitised. When you start watching porn, any porn will do. ‘Ah, they’re naked. Woo-hoo.’ Then, later on, you’re all f*cked-up. And you need is a perfect porn cocktail to get you off. I was so f*cked-up, I need an Asian girl with a black girl’s a*s that speaks Spanish just to get my d*ck to move an inch. I’m a lot better now”.

There are no sacred cows as far as Rock is concerned. He does not spare even his own people, often cracking jokes about the absurd aspects of African-American culture. In the past he has mined comedic gold from his upbringing as a black kid in a low income neighborhood, the valuable lessons he learnt from his working class parents, the first time he had sex with a white girl, and what he really thinks of hip hop and “bling” culture.

Here are some excerpts from Tambourine, proving why Rock is one of the greatest living comedians.

On Religion: “Religion’s like salt. A little’s good. Too much will f*ck up the meal. I mean, I’m basically trying to find God before God finds me. But God never finds you at a good time. You’re never sittin’ courtside at a Knick game gettin’ a hand job from Halle Berry, God shows up: ‘Ah, she strokes a good d*ck, don’t she? I made her! I made your d*ck, too. Enjoy the game!’”

On Bush and Trump: “Think about it this way. Bush was so bad, he gave us Obama. You forget that shit, don’t ya? Bush was so bad, people said, ‘Maybe this black guy has the answers’. I think people overlook George Bush’s contributions to black history. George Bush is a black revolutionary. Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, George Bush. They need to honor him at the Essence Festival. It might work out. Trump might work out. Bush was so bad, he gave us Obama. Trump’s so bad, he’ll give us Jesus. ‘Jesus, what you doin’ here?’ ‘You seen Trump? This sh*t is serious.’”

On social media: “You can’t miss nobody in 2017. Not really. You can say it, but you don’t really miss the motherf*cker, because you’re with them all the time. They in your f*ckin’ pocket. As soon as you leave, you get a f*ckin’ text. You get a ping. You get a beep. You get a f*ckin’ Facebook. You get an Instagram. You get a f*ckin’ FaceTime. And then your woman says, ‘You act like you don’t wanna talk.’ What the f*ck are you talkin’ about? I know everything you did today and I know how people felt about it.”

“I gave you five likes, b*tch. I gave you three smiley faces and an eggplant” Rock concludes with his signature swag.

Which is a lot more than I could muster for his desi counterparts.

Also read: Why Nana Patekar as Hari dada makes Rajinikanth's Kaala look so good