He’s back. And this time, he didn’t need to take any domestic flights. 

Comedian Kunal Kamra is currently performing his new stand-up routine across countries – Australia, New Zealand, Dubai and Singapore – and in his hometown of Mumbai. Understandably, and safer for him, this ensures there’s little chance of him encountering Arnab Goswami and being tempted to try and have a dialogue with him. 

In January 2020, Kamra was famously banned by Air India for an indefinite period of time for accosting Goswami on an Indigo flight. Indigo, not wanting to be pipped to the post, had to follow suit by banning Kamra as did all other airlines. Since then, the aviation ministry’s love for peace and decorum on airlines other than Air India has died a quick death. Even urinators on flights and politicians testing emergency exits don’t seem to upset the aviation minister.

Kamra’s new series – which you can watch on YouTube if you can’t catch it live – addresses head-on the Kamra Cannot Fly campaign by those magnificent men in their flying machines. He has many laugh-out-loud bits, especially on Go Air being a surprising accomplice in his attempt to fly away. 

Kamra’s grounding was, of course, pointless since two months later, our skies were closed thanks to the pandemic. Forget Kamra, we were all grounded as well. 

The show is split into shorter videos, which makes it more fun to watch. Kamra tackles everything from what he considers the new-age fascination with pets to the habit of constantly asking children how they’re feeling. There’s an especially funny bit about Modi, Kejriwal and Rahul Gandhi. 

Most importantly, Kamra’s humour, like all good humour, is funny because it’s rooted in fact. It’s a telling commentary of the times we live in – and the politicians we must abide by. He has an easy delivery style, which I prefer to the strident tones of Hannah Gadsby or the permanently profanity-laden routines of Bill Burr. He’s calm, seemingly good-natured, almost self-deprecating. 

But I did notice that unlike his earlier shows, Kamra was decidedly less political this time around. And this despite performing in countries outside India. 

And therein lies the rub? Do you really blame Kamra for playing it safe, especially when comics like him and the Aisi Taisi Democracy team were among the only people in India tackling political issues? In a country where comics are put behind bars, grounded for months, or just harassed to the point where there’s nothing left to laugh about – maybe it’s better to spend just 10 minutes of your routine on the dismal politics of your country. 

And full marks to Kamra for being able to squeeze so much humour out of life, given that he’s currently challenging the new amendments to the IT Rules 2021, which allows the IT ministry to appoint a fact-checking unit. Any online content that this fact-checking body marks as “false or misleading” will have to be taken down by intermediaries if they wish to retain their “safe harbour”, aka the legal immunity they enjoy against third-party content.

Kamra moved the high court pleading that he’s a comedian and his comedy, which is satirical (a wholly foreign concept to the competent authorities), would be under threat. The Bombay High Court, showing surprising alacrity, directed the central government to respond. The government then said it wouldn’t notify the fact-checking unit until July 5. 

If our comedians are busy filing pleas in courts to enable them to crack a joke without censure, is it any wonder that the political humour and satire we used to see 10 years ago is a distant memory? 

Maybe our elected “leaders” – and I use this term loosely – are actually Anglo-Saxon (I’m sure Sanjeev Sanyal, who is giving lectures on history at JNU because that’s what the principal economic advisor should be doing, will have a view on this). And so, like Grendel in Beowulf, they cannot bear to hear the townspeople laughing or experiencing any joy. That Kamra has emerged from the Air India grounding fiasco seemingly unscathed, and with his humour intact, willing to still take a dig at “Chhota Fanta” in Lucknow, is remarkable. As is his courage and enthusiasm to not keep his head down and instead challenge the government’s new IT amendment. 

The irony that one of the main wits to have emerged during this rule of the humourless is a politician himself, though, should not escape us. But it would be sad for us, the audience, if thanks to the government’s hatred of humour, our best comics choose to perform on foreign shores and at very closed-door events. And the only wit we can look to for some risqué jokes is the man who might never be king, Rahul Gandhi.