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Wit and Humour
of Haryana Jokes Apart
Unfortunately, in our society jocundity is looked upon as a sign of facetiousness-bordering-on-badtameezi, thus rendering humour, as literary genre, stunted, if not still-born. We boast of intellectual profundity in our classical literature, but seldom do we cite a genuine humourist. At a low-brow level, jokes proliferate today, but most of these are adapted from Anglo-American tradition, wherein blondes, Scots, etc. abound. Even our political/bureaucratic humour is laced with colonial brand witticisms. True, "Sardar" jokes have become universal, but that’s an exception. This is not to say that mirth is absent from our life. Hardly. As one who has lived in almost all parts of India, one has heard Malayalees cracking "Kamat" jokes; Bengalis targeting Marwaris and occasionally Pathans; and Mumbaikars have their own stock of Parsi a.k.a. babaji jokes. Apart from these, there are gender-specific yarns featuring hubby and wife, in-laws, etc. Sadly, most of these remain undocumented. Therefore, these two jovial books are welcome. "Humorous policeman" is an oxymoron—you can either be funny or a cop. However, every rule has exceptions. Rajbir Deswal, an IPS officer, is certainly one; he keeps churning out rip-roaring middles for the region’s newspapers. I’ve been reading his pieces in different publications—some funny and some nostalgic`85 and always interesting. His writings deal mostly with pastoral life in Haryana, viz., in this book, the exchange between a calf and a bull-buffalo not only illustrates age-driven world-views but also demonstrates typical village wit. Haryanvis, like their Punjabi neighbours, have an earthy sense of humour—robust, in-your-face and animated.
Chetana Vaishnavi, on the other hand, purveys a homely brand of humour that is more in consonance with the urban milieu. There are puns, limericks and off-the-cuff remarks galore involving kids, parents et al. Some fetch a smile, others elicit a chuckle and quite a few provoke loud guffaws. For example, Train Age is a nice repartee that I haven’t come across before; Foetal Feat and Body Language are good examples of near-black humour; Care Bare is an amusing pun; and the verse, A Bumpkin, makes one chuckle. She comes into her own while narrating professional, especially medical, humour. When a tale dogs a humorist, he or she needs to shake it off by retailing it to as many people as is humanly possible. The very fact that they took the trouble to create and compile amusing episodes from diverse walks of life makes one applaud both Deswal and Vaishnavi. Both have belied the British dramatist, Alan Ayckboum’s belief that "few women care to be laughed at and men not at all, except for large sums of money." True, they wouldn’t like to be laughed at, only on their jokes. Even gratis, presumably. |
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The husband-wife exch-ange
in He-man, She-man tells you of the women’s status or rather
male attitude towards them. Nihala the Guard has a funny take on
language problem; Proper Mode mocks at the rustics’ attempts to
turn urbane. My favourite is Haryana Standard Time—it denotes
the naivet`E9 of ruralites. But, Deswal seemingly suggests, they don’t
take their uncluttered attitude and simple lifestyle as signs of
silliness. As Choomantar demonstrates, the idyllic hinterland is
also peopled by not-so-innocent modhas—charlatans in a holy man’s
garb.