On most days, Bistro Claytopia, in the Koramangla neighbourhood of Bengaluru, is known for its decent coffee and the clay pots you can purchase off its shelves. But every Tuesday at 8 pm, a room in the restaurant becomes the venue for an open mic stand-up comedy show.
One show night, Aamer Peeran was the host. His job was to keep the audience engaged, prime them for laughs, and introduce the acts. About 14 comedians stood at the back of the room, shuffling in the dark, waiting their turns in the spotlight – but there were only four people in the audience.
Peeran’s comment about the lack of a turnout elicited some sympathetic laughter. He went on to talk about his love for marijuana, threw in some material about his background (his mother is Pakistani, his father Tamilian, and he grew up in Saudi Arabia), and introduced the first act.
The Claytopia event is not unusual. About six to seven such events run in various parts of the city through the week. Prospective comedians get the chance to perform in front of an audience for five minutes to try and elicit some laughs. Anyone can perform as long as they register themselves in time. The slots fill up fast. A maximum of 15 comedians are allowed to perform.
The shows, which see a mix of amateurs, complete newbies, seasoned professionals and on occasion, popular stars like Biswa Kalyan Rath or Kenny Sebastian, are free for anyone to come and attend – after all comedians need someone to try new material out on.
Three comics walked into a bar
The Bangalore Comedy Club, an informal group of comedians, has been running three open mic events every week since 2014, along with two “show nights” – a kind of curated open mic. Now, with a larger pool of comedians, looking for more opportunities for stage time, more such events are appearing on the city’s cultural calendar.
The Club began in 2010, when three comics, who were still making their bones in the business, Praveen Kumar, Sanjay Mankatala and Sundeep Rao, began organising open mic comedy shows at Urban Solace, a corner café by the side of Ulsoor Lake. Having participated and won in Vir Das’s open mic competitions at the time, with the experience of a handful of shows behind them, they realised it was important to have a venue where they could regularly try their material out.
Over a Facebook chat, Mankatala, one of the founders of the group, “the IT guy” who mocks NRIs in his heavy American accent, said, “Open Mics started because there was no weekly platform to test out jokes in Bangalore. Initially, Sundeep, Praveen and I approached various venues, literally like door-to-door salesmen. We didn’t want any money, just for them to let us use the space. We would fill it up, get the comics, do the show, and everything. From 2010 to 2013, we had about ten comics in Bangalore. Now the number is well over 40.”
With no real outreach by the group or by the venues where they are hosted, apart from some Facebook posts and endorsements by local comedians, the open mics get an erratic turnout. On good days, venues fill up quickly, on bad days, comedians perform in nearly empty rooms. Despite this, the attendance of comedians trying out material is always high.
Bomb and fly
Praveen Kumar, another founder of the Bangalore Comedy Club, has done several shows across the country and is a fairly established name on the comedy circuit – his material always steers clear of the profanity that frequently peppers comic acts. Kumar said it was always nerve-wracking to go up on stage. At the Claytopia open mic, his jokes received a lukewarm response.
Dealing with a poor show, what comedians describe as bombing, can be difficult. Talking about things you thought were hilarious, to an audience of unsmiling faces can be a major let down.
But bombing is also essential to becoming a better comedian. One of the best comedians today, Louis CK, once told compatriot Marc Maron that after he stopped being afraid of bombing, his material improved exponentially.
Anand Rathnam, 25, quit his job as a construction manager three months ago, to pursue comedy full time. “A lot of my jokes are still hack work, formulaic,” he said. “I’m trying to get away from that stuff, but it’s a work in progress. I do make sure I change something every open mic, keep trying jokes in a different way till it starts to work.”
Rathnam has some savings, which he believes will tide him over for the next six months, after which he said he might take a part-time job at his brother’s company. When asked how he copes with a poor show, he replied swiftly: “Podcasts”.
Comedians around the world have been using podcasts, to dish out views, conversations and general punditry. Listening to Marc Maron’s WTF or to Bill Burr’s Monday Morning podcasts can act as a soothing balm. “Those people don’t talk about formulas but about the core of comedy itself, which helps you see things more clearly and really inspires and picks you up,” said Rathnam.
Shows at places like Claytopia generally go on for a few hours, by which time the crowd thins further. The lesson: register yourself late and you are less likely to have an audience, much less, an attentive audience. Regardless, the performers go on, exchanging patter with whoever remains, trying to work with the material they have. For many, the open mics are a springboard to getting more gigs and making a name for themselves.
Neelaksh Mathur, 19, started doing comedy in Ahmedabad about a year ago with the Comedy Factory, a collective of about eight comedians that is doing some very funny work. Mathur said he got into some of the top engineering colleges in the country, but chose to get his undergraduate degree in media studies in Bengaluru, precisely because of the number of open mics in the city. While these shows are no guarantee to make you the next stand-up sensation, they can open a lot of doors if you show potential.
After each show, Mathur makes it a point to interact with the audience and other comedians at the venue. These can lead to booking gigs at corporate shows, college events or “professional rooms” around the city, where paid stand-up gigs are run by more established comedians.
“A comedian who likes my work might give me a call when someone’s looking for a good Hindi comedian for instance,” said Mathur, who tells stories in Hindi that chronicle what he calls a new middle class.
The majority of the new open mic events are concentrated in the high-end commercial area of Koramangla. Making it in time for an open mic can be a tedious affair for those who don’t live in that vicinity. Vijayth, a comic who lives in Brookfield, about 15 km from the centre of the city, takes a day off from work in order to get to venues on time. Luckily, his job allows some flexibility, and so he makes up for lost time by working on the weekends instead.
But what is all this for, if not fame? Suhas Navratana, who has been doing comedy for the last two years, said he is in no hurry to get famous. “As a friend of mine says, you’d just be calling people to witness your mediocrity,” he said.
In the meanwhile, he does not mind performing in front of crowds of three to four people occasionally. In fact he said it is more challenging and even rewarding when he is able to get those few people to laugh. He believes he is a decent comedian, a six on a scale of ten. “If I were to become famous, I’d want to be able to handle it first,” he said.
Ahmed Shariff, co-founder of the Bangalore Comedy club, said those who want to hit the big league, have to go to the Mecca of show business – Mumbai. But with the highest number of weekly open mics anywhere in the country, and an amicable group of comedians that are always willing to lend a hand, Bengaluru is widely agreed to be an excellent place to start off.
