An ominous cloud seems to be taking the globe under its shadow. Our sense of humour is fading away. We have vicious satires galore—and sacksful of jokes—unabashedly branded nasty, nastier and nastiest. But the good old humour and satire that inspired in us compassionate smile, soft laughter, even empathy towards its target is dying. In fact, according to a noted American humourist, David Martin, it is dead: “What was once a common media feature is now virtually extinct”, says the professional and asserts in conclusion, “Sadly, this seems to be the new reality and there is nothing that can be done to change it. It is time to accept the not-so-funny fact and move on. In the world of humour, it’s now the video camera, not the pen, that’s mightier than the sword.”
Martin’s anguish can be appreciated in the light of what Shakespeare said in “Love’s Labour’s Lost”: “A jest’s prosperity lies in the ear/ Of him who hears it, never in the tongue/ Of him that makes it.” Round the world ears of the prospective hearers appear poised to bar entry for jest. Along with the disappearance of mass-circulation journals combining literature and delightful potpourri on aspects of life, features once coveted like “Laughter the Best Medicine”, “Laugh a Little”, “Madam, I’m Adam” etc. are memory.
I hope “The Shankar’s Weekly” too remains at least a memory—at least for some. Founded and edited by the doyen of cartoon culture in Indian journalism K Shankar Pillai (1902–1989), it was often described as the Indian Punch. But in several respects it was brightly different from that indomitable British publication. It was more political, but satire and sympathy never mingled so harmoniously in cartoons and writings in any other English publication anywhere better than in this one.
The sudden folding up of this journal in June 1975 was the first crack of thunder signalling the end of a great tradition. It was of course the time of Emergency. But Shankar was a genuine admirer of Nehru (“Don’t spare me, Shankar!” said Nehru) and also of Mrs Indira Gandhi. In fact the latter wrote to Shankar that she will miss his journal.
Why then did Shankar close it down? A frequent contributor to his weekly this author met him before long. He was absorbed in stabilising his Children’s Book Trust and the International Dolls Museum. But I can put down my impression of that historic negative decision of his through a small quote from Charles Lamb: “Satire does not look pretty upon a tombstone”. Alas, the time was sepulchral!
Then came the shutting down of “Punch” in 1992. Believed invincible, enquiry showed that its circulation was dwindling rapidly. And now folds up MAD, the last fully humour and satire magazine, American, but popular wherever English prevailed. Though statistics are not available, this phenomenon is reported to be running through all the literary languages. Few exceptions are publications that churn out some hackneyed erotic themes under desperately devised new robes as well as robe-shedding.
Needless to say, this is not an isolated development. While a gradual reduction in the sense of humour keeps pace with the growth of a collective sense of insecurity and anxiety and mutual distrust among the grown-up, in the young the factors contributing to the process are myriad. It includes addictions that do not stimulate the natural emotions in children. It is well-established now that there are online games—like the notorious Blue Whale— that not only paralyse the instinct of joy, but also prove a siren song for suicide, often irresistible, in their young addicts.
The most dangerous harm the plethora of gadgets do to people of all age-groups is to make us ignore our inborn traits and individuality. The spontaneous and natural physical and mental exercises that vibrated our feelings are becoming more and more passive. Something in us—call it our inner being if you condescend to it—revolts against this spuriousness. The result is an average collective depression, disguised as cynicism among intellectuals—a development directly opposed to any inclination for harmless humour.
We are in a catch-22. Life will continue to descend into deeper gloom without smiles. But life as it is does not let us smile. What then? One study by the University of California, Berkeley, shows that an inclination for humour is inborn in us. As married couples live together long enough, bickering between them automatically changes into humorous exchange, probably because experience asserts humour’s natural superiority over the other.
An elaborate research by the University of Tennessee: Our emotion is reflected on our physical condition; but can our stimulated physical condition influence our emotion? To simplify, we smile when we are happy. But do we become happy when we smile deliberately? Yes, indeed, to some extent, probably according to the same law that makes people temporarily happy when they gather for laughing for sake of laughing.
It is a blessing that there are good people to explore our access to smile. But the trend cannot be reversed unless we usher in a globally cooperative radical change in our lifestyle or we climb a few rungs along the ladder of our ascent to a higher consciousness where we breathe happiness, smile or no smile.