Labour of Laughter--A published article of mine in THE HINDU,June 27,2005

I was trying to write on humour and the exercise was turning out to be a nightmare. Four hours of sweat, toil, paper, ink and strands of hair pulled from my scalp had produced a final, typed copy of 417 words.

Glowing with pride and satisfaction, I punch in the e-mail address and dash off the copy. Then, I sit admiring myself in the mirror, practising my gracious smile that says: "Oh, it was but the work of a moment."

The phone's shrill ring jars me out of my idyllic world of narcissistic pride. The editor on the other end says: "We wanted something humorous; not an outpouring of your emotional attachment to the idea of humour."

Glumly, I hung up and realised an axiomatic truth that many aspiring writers are privy to.

Writing isn't easy. Writing on humour is far from easy. And writing a humorous piece is the most difficult of all.

Chewing on the tip of my fingernail, I contemplate on the various probable topics I could explore. Politics? Too common. Sports? Too limited. Religion? Too controversial. But everyday events? Yes! I would stun readers with my incisive insight into the mundane world of routine occurrences. Bold and intrepid, I would strip the serious facade off day-to-day happenings and expose the warm humour pulsating beneath the surface.

"Ahem. What humour?" queries a voice. Not on the phone this time, but from within my head. Startled and annoyed, I have to admit there doesn't seem anything funny in getting the daily supply of milk, leafing through the newspaper or buying groceries from the supermarket, standing in long queues to pay the bill.

Humour writers, like syndicated columnists and cartoonists, are always under pressure to produce the best. Although we laugh every day reading the comic strips, at the masterful execution of wit and at the satirical caricature of public figures, rarely do we appreciate the effort that goes into its production. I should know!