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Nocturne, nocturne
Once again the night
Is coming on…
Hey, London, what's up? Hello.
Let's start. All rise.
You actually did it. Sit the fuck down.
I've always wanted to do that shit, man.
Jesus Christ!
He's not here. He's not here!
He sent me.
Nocturne…
What's up, Mumbai? Hello.
I have good news, and I have bad news.
-Which one would you like to hear first? -Bad news.
Most Indian answer ever.
Because in India, someone else's bad news…
The bad news is this.
I'm really happy.
-Whoa! -Yeah.
But the good news is I'll talk about it and hopefully, it'll just go away.
'Cause when we talk about our happiness,
Indian people violate a rule that we've been taught since the British Raj,
"Happiness is silence."
Right? This is why if you ask any Indian, "Are you happy?"
we'll be like…
Now, don't be confused. This is not a confirmation.
This is not a denial. This is a misdirection.
This is not us going, "I don't know."
This is us going, "I don't want you to know.
I only want God to know."
'Cause you got to be honest with God, right, guys?
God talks to us, yes?
God says things like, "I love you. Be strong. Vote for me."
Streets clear up Phones…
-What's up, New York? You're good? -Yeah!
All right, let me tell you a story. Well, a backstory.
I just shot my new Netflix Special, man.
It cuts between London and Mumbai,
and it's a show I wrote in silence.
Well, rewrote.
And the silence is my fault by the way.
Because the… I don't know. Things were going well.
And… I think I got a little arrogant.
And I think the universe can sense arrogance.
Uh, I was in a hotel room in London.
Six weeks before I was supposed to take my new Netflix Special
in a church in London and a stadium in Mumbai,
something in the Universe went…
And I woke up without a voice.
Hmm…
Biggest show of my career, six weeks to go.
My voice wasn't sore, it was just gone.
Broken, silent.
It's like the government in my body had changed.
And my family was like, "You've been sharing too much good news."
You've activated the evil eye.
I'll explain, American people. The evil eye is ill-wishers.
But they do not do ill to you. They just casually wish ill upon you.
They've combined evil with delegation.
They wish, right? They'll just blow an eyelash
and be like, "Give him erectile dysfunction."
Which I don't mean to mock. I'm sure it's quite hard.
But, uh…
But the evil eye's a powerful force.
Right? And in India, we call the evil eye…
Nazar.
Family, that's right. Yes.
Speaking of family,
it is so fucking good to be home. What's up, Mumbai?
What's up, London? What's up, New York?
Good to see you guys.
The minute you share good news the evil eye is activated.
Observe. I will share some good news. Ready?
So, uh, I won a tiny Emmy Award, all right? And, uh…
Thank you, thank you.
Thank you for supporting my comedy,
and, uh, my family thanks you as well.
Guys, the artist you're watching is nowcritically acclaimed.
Except the acclaim comes from white people, so nobody gives a fuck.
White validation is brown kryptonite.
Everybody is like, "He has betrayed his country."
I know what you're thinking. "Vir, kryptonite is green."
No, that's white money, which is a brown magnet,
which is why you live here, and you have betrayed your country.
Evil eye.
No, I get it. A lot of people were conflicted when I won the award,
because I'm an English comedian in India.
And we have this post-colonial resentment of the English language.
We equate English with privilege. Correct?
Falsely so, by the way.
There are many countries in the world where people speak great English,
who are dirt poor.
For instance, the country of England.
If you speak good English, they're like, "Vir Das is not relatable.
Not relatable."
Yeah, neither wasOppenheimer.
You watched that shit, no?
Why're you so insecure?
Why do you need to be "related to" all the fucking time?
Did you watchOppenheimerlike, "I just don't see myself in the mushroom cloud."
Although give Putin five years…
But in India, there's a spectrum.
If your English is very bad, we will judge you.
But if your English is very good…
-Judge you. -…we will judge you, right?
It's this… this Appu - Vivek Ramaswamy spectrum.
Right? This… This Mowgli - Rishi Sunak spectrum.
This Kangana - Tharoor spectrum.
Right? They were also--
The night that I won my Emmy Award, two Indian critics,
mainstream critics got on TV.
And one of them was like, "I don't like Vir Das."
And she was like, "Why?" She said, "His English is too good."
You… you can't be mad at people because they enunciate.
I'm sorry, Mumbai, to enunciate means that you, uh…
We're not the best, right guys?
This first girl I hooked up in Mumbai…
Every time we'd hook up, she'll be like, "Ey,suno, let's bang, no, men?"
"Ey,suno, let's bang no men"
Then we would have consensual sex while assaulting two languages.
You get judged, man.
Like I remember once,
one of India's top Hindi comedians came up to me and he was like,
"Vir, you're too global.
Indian stand-up is not global.
You sound privileged. You have to sound relatable, like us."
And then he left in a Range Rover.
And that's when you realize the most privileged people in the world
don't speak English, don't need English.
Think about it.
Jack Ma - Mandarin.
Mukesh Ambani - Gujarati.
Elon Musk - X.
No English is required.
Then I got taken to England's top vocal doctor.
And he informed me
that I had massive vocals cysts on both of my vocal cords.
And he said, "Mr. Das,
it could be seven months before you speak properly again.
But you know, look at Djokovic.
Injured, out for six months.
Does so much physio…," "…back in five weeks.
You just gotta find a Djokovic inside you."
Do you know how patronizing it is
to compare a comedian to a professional athlete?
That's equivalent to like, if his patient dies,
and I'm like, "I know it's sad but look at Jesus."
"Crucified, out for eternity, does so much physio…"
"Back in three days!"
"You just gotta find a Jesus inside you."
Can you imagine a brown man with a beard telling a white man to find Jesus?
The last guy who did that was Jesus.
But I'm training.
I just fired my American trainer. I got a proper Indian trainer, right?
Speaks Hindi, has a paunch.
'Cause this western guy kept saying
all this privileged shit I didn't understand.
He said, "Mr. Das, if you wanna get really lean,
we gotta feed and fast, feed and fast.
We gotta surprise your body."
I was like, "Bro, I live in Mumbai.
If I wanna surprise mybody, I will cross the road."
"I will be much leaner when there is an SUV on top of my body."
Random privileged shit. "Mr. Das, are you having any antioxidants?"
I'm like, "The AQI is 599 right now.
What oxygen are you referring to in Mumbai?"
At this point, my body converts monoxide into dioxide.
I am an antioxidant.
We have lost half the crowd, by the way. Half the crowd is gone, right?
They're like, "Why's he teaching science?
Did not come here to learn about oxygen!"
"Just make me laugh, bro. Don't make me think!"
This is you!
In the comments, "Just make me laugh, bro!
Don't make me think."
Get someone to tickle you, you basic bitch, all right?
Random privileged shit.
"Uh, Mr. Das, what're your thoughts on probiotics?"
Do you guys know about probiotics here?
"Your thoughts on probiotics?"
And I was like, "I believe in a woman's right to choose."
"I am probiotic."
He was like, "Mr. Das, you're making a mistake."
And I said, "I shouldn't have to live with that mistake for the rest of my life."
This trainer… it was so hard not to sound like him
when I was talking to him.
Indian people… we have a horrible habit.
When we talk to somebody with a foreign accent,
like a dementor, we inhale their accent.
And do their accent back to their face.
Like, a sweet French guy will come over to your house for dinner.
He'll be like, "This ismagnifique.
Could I have some more chickentikka, please?"
You will walk into your own kitchen,
look at your Indian mother
and be like, "He would like some more chickentikka."
Your mother will come, look at the French guy and be like,
"Beta, would you like some more…"
Now the French guy is fucking terrified, right?
He's like, "Uh, Aunty, I would like some more…"
Now, you're just three racists surrounding a cold piece of chicken tikka.
To get rid of the evil eye, six pundits, six priests were sent over to my house,
and they did an 8-hour worship ritual,
where they built ashivling out of milk and ghee and ice
that stood by itself six feet into the air.
One of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.
I was like, "Can you complete the bridges in Mumbai, please?"
And the pundit was like, "Now, you need to pray every night."
I couldn't talk to the pundit, and I was like, "Well, that's
kind of why I hired you."
And he was like, "Oh, we don't pray for you.
We just make sure that your prayer is heard first."
I was like, "So, you are like the TSA precheck…"
"…of God?"
And he was like, "Yeah, take your shoes off."
I don't pray that much, right?
Like, I casually take God's name during orgasms and deadlifts, right?
Which, for me, are very similar experiences, guys.
You know, my knees don't cooperate.
Looking in a mirror… You know, the very…
But, like…
Like, I talk to God. Like the other day, I was praying because I lost my passport.
Like, you, sir, can get a new passport in 24 hours
if you have contacts in the government.
Except for me, contact with the government is why I need my passport.
So, if I lose my passport, I haven't lost my passport.
God has taken my passport.
And I just find religion…
You know, when I'm desperate, I laugh, right?
So, I was like, "God, listen, I cannot
tell jokes to a world I do not get to see."
And then all of a sudden, a file in front of me flew open.
I heard a noise, which was like…
And my passport, I swear to God, was five feet away, inside that file,
like, hidden under this paper where some jokes were written.
And I was so happy I cried happy tears over a piece of paper.
The last time I did that a pregnancy test came negative.
I needed my passport because I went to Australia.
Uh…
I'm sorry, any Australians in the audience? Make some noise.
-Whoa! -Good to see you. I like your country.
I mean, you guys are,na, you're like, England's Bangladesh.
Is that a… ?
Sorry, I apologise.
I apologise, I'm sorry.
You're New Zealand's Pakistan.
Here's what happened. I follow rules when I'm at airports abroad.
I never wanna embarrass India abroad unless it's at a large theatre.
And this old Aussie lady
picked me out of line.
Full of white people and she was like, "You sir,
you're gonna check your bag in."
I was like, "Madam it's under 9 kilos, only one item."
She was like, "No! you're gonna check your bag in."
I was pissed off. Would you be pissed off?
Yes.
I was like, "Are you gonna check any of the white people?"
All white people were like, "Fuck! Now she's gonna check the white people!"
She just pointed at me and she was like, "No, just you!"
I was delighted. I was. I was like, "Oh, my God!
It's an OG racist."
It's like seeing the Northern Lights.
You're like, "I've seen in books and movies,
but it's so much more impressive in person."
You never see an OG racist in a modern setting.
It fucks with your brain, right?
It's like seeing a Nazi drink Boba tea.
Which I would pay good money to see, yo!
Full SS uniforms…
He…
He… heil…
Heil Hitler!
I really do feel racists are a marginalized community.
Have you considered the struggle of being a racist?
To identify as a bigot
but to be trapped inside an intelligent person's body.
Racists have no public platforms. It's just 80% of American podcast.
That's it, right?
All of their good ideas have been stolen,
culturally appropriated from racists.
Racists came up with the N-word, Hip Hop… took it.
Racists came up with segregation, pickleball… took it.
Racists came up with slavery, Apple… took it.
All their good ideas are gone. Then what is the life of a racist?
You make a tiny Paki like me check his luggage.
Then you go home and have quiet missionary sex
under a picture of Churchill.
What's…
Picture of Winston Churchill… it's got to be missionary.
You can't do anal under Churchill.
Churchill has never seen, uh…
…"colon"isation.
I…
I'm walking into first class.
She keeps smiling at me with victory in her eyes.
Something in me snapped.
Usually, Indian people, we shut up and take it, right?
I was like, "Madam, I hope an Indian marries your daughter."
I hope her daughter comes home with a beautiful Indian man.
Fucking Dev Patel's face…
…with Sadhguru's mustache…
…on, like, my body.
They have to sleep in the next room
and listen to weird Indian-Aussie mix sex coming through the wall all night long.
Yes, "Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!" "Oye! Hoye! Hoye!"
Just…
Just… Hah! Tu!
Guys, she was 65.
You gotta have empathy.
It is possible to love an old racist, right?
Indians, go to your family WhatsApp group right now.
Fun fact, if you cannot find a racist in your family WhatsApp group,
you're the fucking racist.
Don't be… don't be ashamed.
One of my grand aunts, legendary Islamophobe.
Legendary!
Platinum member frequent flyer bigot.
Every time she saw me do stand-up, she'll be like, "Hai Allah!"
I was like, "Don't you…" "…hate Muslims?"
She'll be like, "Yeah, but when I'm disappointed, I invoke their god."
Why bother our own?
Then I got taken to Adele's speech therapist.
She has the same problem as me, same level of talent.
And, uh…
It's this tiny Jewish lady who charges a lot of money,
and she gave me this.
This is a kazoo.
She was like, "When you can play, 'happy birthday' on the kazoo,
you're ready for theatrical performances again."
And I was like, "When you can do burpees on a marshmallow carpet,
you're ready for an appendectomy, because I thought we were playing a game
where we said fucking nonsense sentences to each other."
This is impossible to make a noise out of.
Doesn't happen. The noise has to come from within.
Every day, 20 times a day, I was like…
Do you know how many ducks have shown up to my house…
…looking for action…
…and received it…
…because we are speaking the same language?
Duck shows up, I'm like…
You got your money's worth, right? Musical performance.
But she was like, "Mr. Das, you've been using your voice wrong
for 20 years."
And I was like, "How left-wing intellectual of you."
This is why I like the younger generation. Anybody here, 18 to 25? Make some noise.
I like you guys.
'Cause you're outspoken, you're not silent, you share.
You're brave. You put yourself out there.
We give you feedback, you get triggered, we laugh.
That's the system.
That's great! That's…
That's why we…
That's why we let you believe you have your own truth.
Your truth is our content.
Hi, I have two nephews. They are the generation below Gen Z.
What are they called?
Morons? I…
My nephews are 14. I took them to a museum.
My nephew is super pissed off
that a massive European painting will not fit into his phone this way.
And I was like, "Fucker! Just turn your phone."
And he's like, "Virmama, you don't understand.
The world has changed.
Life is vertical."
I was like, "I'm gonna change my will now."
"I'm not gonna cut you off. I will leave you everything I have
if you cremate me vertical."
"With these eyes open, I wanna look down at the family while I burn, all right?
And I want a DJ playing, like, techno music behind me, right?
I want it to be like, sunburn meetssati, all right? And…"
"And like, grief meets Glastonbury, all right? Like…
Like burning man meets burning man."
"And I want you to…"
"…film the entire thing and upload it to Instagram,
and just caption it, 'Vir mama! Lit!'"
Which is almost the perfect caption for a cremation, right?
So easily manipulated because you commodify distraction.
All you wanna do is have the drop.
You can do one-hour show for Gen Z with one punchline.
"Just delay the drop!"
"Virmama, the world has changed. Life is vertical."
The world has changed
The world has changed, Changed, changed, changed, Vir Mama
Changed, changed, changed, Changed, changed, changed, Vir Mama
Life, life, life, life, Life, life , life, life
Life, life, life, life, life
Is vertical
Life is vertical
Look at your stupid faces, right?
All the adults are like, "What is happening?"
"I want a refund."
Gen Z is like, "Let him cook, bro!"
And that is a perfect caption for a cremation.
Then four weeks before the stadium show, I tried homeopathy.
Anybody doesn't know what homeopathy is make some noise.
Yeah, I'll explain.
So, sir, a homeopath is a lonely virgin man…
…who sits in a two-foot by two-foot room
surrounded by white powder, all right?
It's… It's like a closet at a Diddy party.
And he gave me white powder to put in my fucking face.
I was like, "What is this?" and he was like, "Doesn't matter."
So now, eight times a day, I put white powder into my fucking face.
I don't even do stand-up anymore. I work in finance.
I'm an addict.
Here's the problem with your generation.
Um…
You got addicted to performative validation
on dopamine devices.
You guys are obsessed with identity.
Not personality.
So, when you put yourself out there, it's what you are, not who you are.
So, you're trying to gather and broadcast labels
'cause they all represent shots of dopamine.
from the internet that you're addicted to.
So you're not justahuman being.
You're a polyamorous, ADHD, vegan, juggler, who's religiously agnostic,
but Avengers Adjacent, right?
And… listen, I… I don't wanna patronize you,
but as you get older,
you discover that the world is really fucking basic. Right, grownups?
Amulya, there are only two types of people in the entire world.
There are assholes
and there are people who deal with assholes.
That's it. That's the entire world.
Let's not be unevolved, there are intersectional assholes in the world.
There are black assholes, white assholes, straight assholes, gay assholes,
trans assholes.
On the flipside, some vegans are nice people.
People are nuanced.
They're complex. Right, London?
I'm just saying even Adolf Hitler was a dog lover.
Remember?
Side note. How confused do you think Hitler's dog was?
Dog only understands visuals, not politics, right?
If you're Hitler's dog,
every time your dad is outside, your dad is like…
Never throws a ball.
Then when you're silent, what you discover is
you make up your own sign language that nobody understands but you.
I looked at my assistant. I wanted a decaf black and I was like…
"I would like a decaf black."
He was like, "What?" I'm like, "a decaf black."
"What?"
I was like, "Your mother is a whore."
"You wanna a decaf black?"
Everybody around you gets quiet as well.
Everybody is like, "Oh, my God!" "You've lost your voice!"
"That's so sad."
"Would you like a decaf black?"
"Yes!"
And you discover that when one person breaks silence is contagious.
And I get it because
if you ever land into controversy by choice or not by choice,
you become a story.
And the problem of becoming a story is, uh…
you're milked for attention no matter where you go.
Every time I was in New York,
or somewhere in the UK, a white journalist would show up and they'll be like,
"Oh my God!
Can we do like a 9000-word exclusive on how you're being silent on your plight?"
"I'm sorry, my plight?
Forgive me, madam. It feels like you need some sort of eastern-oppression story
to feel better about where you live. All right?"
Listen, somebody's--
Somebody's plight is like their erection.
All right?
I know it's hard to look at, but it's rude to point it out.
And she's like, "You don't understand. Our audience is huge
and they're gonna sympathise."
I'm like, "My audience is small, but they're going to empathise, alright?"
Sympathy…
Sympathy is a porn video that you watch for pleasure.
Empathy is an orgy. We're all getting fucked together.
Now, listen, about 30% of you responded to that joke.
And I need you to stay back after the show.
That was…
not a metaphor.
"How's the Vir Das show?" "He does a lot of crowd work.
It's really intense."
I genuinely think that if you don't put them on the spot,
if you give them a safe space,
if you give them anonymity,
most people will have an honest conversation.
Tell the truth and they know right from wrong. Would you agree?
Right? I think so.
Let's find out. Turn the lights out, Shastri.
Kavi, put the lights out.
Yeah, so the Christmas tree doesn't go off.
I have five electricians on my crew, nobody could fucking figure this out.
And this Special is gonna come out in the summer,behenchods!
So--
British people, so we be honest with each other, shall we?
Every time something happens in your country,
80% of the world has zero sympathy for you.
I'm sorry. It's just not been long enough.
You fucked around and found out for so long
with so many countries,
and now you have the gall to complain about too much diversity in England.
At this point, we don't even want reparations anymore. Do we, Indian people?
At this point, I don't want your monarch to return the Kohinoor.
I want him to swallow it.
Let's see if God really can save the King.
Let's have an honest conversation right now. Do you wanna try?
Yes!
If we are being honest with each other, you know
that since 2019, we've all felt monitored and monetised.
That we are fed this story of good vs evil,
but with every passing year it just makes less and less sense
that we are worshiping false heroes
and celebrating a lack of intelligence
because of a morally bankrupt middle class
that is obsessed with consumption and a cult of power.
Every single Indian person here
knows that since 2019,
there has not been a single good Marvel movie and you know it, all right?
These are bullshit heroes…
…these are false stories.
Wait, what did you guys think I was talking about?
Guys, that's just a joke about the MCU.
Speaking of which, right now, nobody can see you.
Nobody. You're safe.
Not the people above you, who ignore you.
Not the people below you, who you ignore.
But they can hear you.
Just make the noise you want to be remembered for.
As an outsider, humbly, I just wanna say,
"I think your empire is ending."
It feels that way.
On the outside, you're kind of like the hot girl from high school,
who's back at the reunion…
…and now she's mad that everybody else is hot too.
And China is the principal and…
And I think I know, like,
it's because all the smart people in your country
behave like such corrupt assholes, you stop listening to them.
You started listening to stupid people, who were slightly smarter than you are,
and convinced yourself that those were the smart people.
And now the entire world kind of looks at you the way you looked at Joe Biden.
It's kind of like, "Ooh!"
"He doesn't know where he is anymore."
Let's just stay in this darkness for a second.
In case someone has a gun.
All right, on the lights!
I don't think America will ever get rid of guns.
Guns are your cricket.
And I firmly believe that every American
should be allowed to buy a gun at any age without an ID.
Hang on.
But I think you need to change your gun technology.
I think you need to voice activate your guns.
Every time you wanna fire a bullet, the gun will not fire
until you say something completely and perfectly into the gun in your voice.
And I think what you have to say is the entire 2nd Amendment.
So, it will change gun violence forever, man.
Americans will be like, "I'm a fucking kill you
after I study for two weeks."
Two weeks later, he's like,
"In the United States of America…"
"…a well-trained militia for the security of the state,
the right to bear arms shall never be infringed."
Think about how many people can run away in that much time.
If you make Apple handle your guns,
you will solve foreign terrorism forever.
With Siri?
If I show up with my accent… "Siri!"
"…a well-trained militia for the security of the state,
right to buy arms shall never be infringed."
"There are five Starbucks in your area."
Oat milk cappuccino!
"Shoot all Filipinos?"
"No! Hey!"
Guys, it's a tourist visa. I'm not afraid of you.
Do you understand?
I'm in therapy.
My therapist is this woman who holds a cup of chamomile tea
two centimetres away from her face the entire session
and never fucking sips it.
And her taking a sip is now the only hope I have in therapy.
Fucking Jedi!
The other day, she's like, "Mr. Das,
a lot of comedians have cruelty in their childhood.
So their definition of love becomes withholding."
And I was like, "Did you know that a lion only fucks for 30 seconds?"
And she's like, "I didn't know." And I was like, "Good! 'Cause that means
one of us is bringingnewinformation into this conversation."
"Mr. Das, I'm just trying to see if you have any childhood trauma."
I'm like, "Bitch! I grew up in India and Africa.
My trauma has childhood."
These are my childhood traumas.
When I was 12 years old, a bully kicked me in my teeth so hard
I swallowed my own tooth,
and I was hospitalized and made to hydrate so I would poop out my own tooth,
and I never did.
And I'm afraid it's still in there.
And one day, I would get an x-ray,
and in the stomach of an adult male, they will find a 12-year-old boy's tooth.
And they'll be like, "Mr. Das,
what did you have for breakfast this morning?"
I'll be like, "No, it's childhood trauma."
and they'll be like, "Yeah, for the child you fuckin' ate."
Listen, my parents knew about mental health problems,
but they gave me Indian solutions.
I'll be like, "Papa, I have crippling anxiety."
'"Huh huh,you do jumping jacks."
"Anxiety will jump out of your body.
Then you take turmeric for acid reflux."
Before the stadium show, I tried something called myofascial release.
Has anybody tried it?
Yeah! Yes!
Let me tell you about this.
I was in Copenhagen,
and this muscular 6′ 4″, beautiful German man
with blonde hair and blue eyes walked into my hotel room.
I was like, "If there's more of you, you deserve a Ryke."
And then he took his elbow,
which was the only non-muscular part of his body,
and shoved into my buttock and started to move it around.
And he started to stroke my hair.
And he was like, "You have a sadness deep inside you."
And I was like, "No, I have a German deep inside me."
And he was like, "Your throat chakra is fully blocked."
And I'm like, "That's 'cause you've shoved my small intestine upwards inside it."
And he's like, "You must let go."
And I was like, "I feel the same about you."
And he was like, "Release! Surrender."
And I surrendered to these beautiful, strong German arms.
I felt like France.
And then, New York…
I had this beautiful emotional release.
It was just shattering. I…
I didn't cry. I farted for 42 seconds.
And then his throat chakra was blocked.
There's just coriander everywhere in the room.
I was mortified, right?
So I did the one thing every Indian does when we're embarrassed abroad, right?
I was like, "Sir, I'm from Pakistan."
It's fine!
Can I tell you why I went to therapy?
-Yeah. -So I left and I did 186 shows abroad.
Burnt myself out.
My final show was in Singapore.
I was flying home, first class.
And…
I woke up, the pursur was there and I was like,
"How long till we land in Mumbai?"
And he was like, "Oh, Mr. Das, this flight is to London.
It's 10 hours to LHR."
Fuck you!
"Not London, Mumbai." "We are flying to Mumbai!"
He's like, "Mr. Das, calm down right now."
Because you know, when a brown man with a beard
starts yelling a new destination for the plane…
He was like, "Situation! Situation!"
I had put a show on sale in London last minute. It had sold out.
Right? I had bought a ticket, boarded a flight.
Seventy-two hours of my life blacked out.
Just gone.
And then I got disoriented, and I started to cry
in first class.
It's tragic, guys.
I cried and I drank Dom Pérignon champagne,
and then…
Then I whimpered and I put caviar on melba toast.
I cried all the way to England, wishing I was India.
I felt like Lady Mountbatten.
A lot of you did not get that joke.
Shall I explain? I'll explain, all right.
So guys, caviar is fish eggs. Uh…
Study your own history,behenchod!
All right. Sorry, white people…
Uh…
Behenchod, uh…
When you're happy,behenchodis kind of what the N-word is amongst black people.
Right? Fair? Say, "What up,behenchod?"
"Hey! He's mybehenchod, right?"
But when you're unhappy,behenchod is like the N-word amongst white people.
Look at that,behenchod. Uh…
And I went to my therapist, and I'm like, "I'm blocking out entire days."
"Am I crazy?"
And she's like, "Mr. Das, it's 2024. We don't use that word anymore."
I'm like, "I don't use dental floss. That doesn't mean it doesn't exist."
She's like, "Mr. Das, you have a problem sitting quietly with your emotions.
Have you ever been quiet and happy at the same time?
Why don't you tell me a story?"
I'm like, "I cannot believe I'm paying for storytelling."
And then I paid her the money to tell her the story I just charged you for.
This fuck all business model.
Two weeks before the stadium show I broke.
You just cry.
And the thought that breaks you is…
I'm a storyteller.
What if I don't get to…
Or what if I do and it's not as…
You just cry silently.
Which looks pathetic on a man. It looks like an orgasm on mute.
It's the noise that lets you know which one it is, guys.
I was like, "I know you can't hear me, but can you see me?"
When I was 24 years old,
I was an illegal immigrant in Chicago.
I'd overstayed my visa.
I worked in a kitchen with Mexican cooks.
Brutal people!
They called me, "Los plastos Kollega."
Sometimes, I'd sleep on the train.
My working hours were 8 a.m. to 3 a.m. and you'd freeze.
And this guy called Sirquet taught me this trick.
He's like, "Hey,Kollega, come here!"
If your nipples are warm, your body will be warm.
Then he put hot soup from the restaurant into ziplock bags,
put every ziplock bag into a black garbage bag,
tied them together behind my neck
so that the soup hung over here.
I wore a jacket and I was insulated and warm all night long.
Everybody left me alone on the train
because I was a brown man with gigantic tits.
And you know, this was a couple of years before the trans conversation.
But a couple of years after 9/11.
So, you know, even the Mexicans were like,
"Maybekollega…" "…terrorista."
"Maybe… "
"Really massive, tasty black tits."
And…
Some nights you wake up on the train, man.
It's fucking beautiful. It is.
You know.
You've got Coldplay in your ears,
warm soup on your nipples.
Your head's on the window.
You come out of a tunnel…
you feel sunlight on your cheeks, they get warm.
Your eyes go into this non-religious shade of orange…
…and there's golden light on your face.
You feel seen.
And you can't move because there's a…
massive homeless man sleeping on top of you.
Now, Indian women, some of you know this…
…having been compressed under a heavyset man.
Don't look at him, eyes front, eyes front. Look at me right now.
The only thing that will move that man is food, right?
So, I put this man in the window seat.
His name was Eugène.
I fucking put him under the sun, and I pulled out soup.
He laughed his ass off.
He was like, "Hey man, what else you got in them titties?"
And I was like, "More soup."
And then his friends surrounded me.
Like five black guys. I gave them all soup.
And they all called me "a little soup titty N-word" for five hours.
"Hey, man, look at this soup titty N-word."
I have had Shah Rukh Khan tell me he was proud of me.
I've had a woman call me the love of her life.
Nothing comes close to five black guys calling you the N-word.
It's also the most maternal I've ever felt in my life.
You know, to pull your tit out and nourish somebody.
Ladies, I get why you do it.
And I told this story to my therapist,
and my therapist was like, "Mr. Das, that was not a quiet story at all,
and they're happier than you are," and I'm like, "Madam,
you don't understand what I fucking do, do you?"
Look, happiness watched is greater than happiness lived, alright?
Do you know what every crowd has in common?
They look different. They sound the same.
Because happiness is a universal noise.
A human being is just a noise.
We die when we're silent.
If I could take every audience member and put them in a suitcase,
and put them up on stage with me and take them around the world,
so that they see it like I see it,
and feel it like I feel it, you would understand why people like stand-up.
Nobody is watching the comedian. They're listening to the audience,
to happiness leave their body.
Because happiness, when yelled,
Joy, when not protected, but joy projected is hope.
It is strength.
People with power understand that.
The scariest thing to them is not the words that come out of my mouth,
it is the noise that comes out of theirs.
Comedians just say words, the audience tells the truth.
And this is what I don't understand.
Why is no one arresting the audience?
They are the problem.
Look at them. They're so stupid.
So easily motivated by some eloquent flattery.
And my therapist was like, "Mr. Das,
you have an aggressive dis-associative disorder.
that is motivated by extreme PTSD."
And I was like, "You have passive-aggressive tongue twisters
that are motivated by chamomile tea."
She's like, "Mr. Das, your anxiety is out of control.
I need to put you on medication.
What're your thoughts on beta-blockers?"
And I was like, "I believe in a woman's right to choose."
That joke gets better if you think about it in Hindi.
"Also, I have an addictive personality. I'm not gonna take pills."
She's like, "All right. Then you need to work out seven days a week.
The endorphins will carry you through your depression."
"So I should do jumping jacks."
She's like, "No, also take turmeric for acid reflux."
Ladies and gentlemen…
We're on a train.
That's all this life is. It's a train in a fucking circle.
And one step on that train, one stop is unhappiness
and utter despair and sorrow and an ass whooping.
Whether you're quiet or whether you're happy,
or whether you're careful or whether you're reckless,
the train will stop at that station once in your life, I promise you.
Stick your tits out and share your soup, all right?
That's all I'm gonna say.
You could play every card in the book right
and one day, for no reason, your voice will just
go the fuck away.
And then, one day, for no reason, it will…
Ten days before my stadium show, something freed.
I don't know why this happened.
But…
Do you know what I think freedom is?
When you're not constantly thinking about whether you can speak,
you can speak.
Like, my voice came back not for doctors, or for healers.
It came back for a food delivery guy.
He handed me a package of food,
and instinctively, without thinking, I was like, "Thank you,bhaisaab."
It just came out.
And I… I just fucking… I held him, and I… I wept.
For 20 minutes straight, I just wept in his arms.
And he was like, "You're very passionate about kung pao chicken."
And I was like, "Your back is very tight. You have a sadness deep inside."
Don't think about what you say, and it will get you into trouble.
And when you're in trouble, do not think about what you say,
and it will get you out of trouble.
Here are three quick stories to end my show that prove that.
Are you ready?
Number one. I was 18 years old in the city of New Delhi
on the back of a motorcycle.
My friend Shusheel is driving us home from a Delhi party at a farmhouse
where we have both dropped acid.
If you've ever driven in Delhi at night, you know this,
you do not need the acid.
There are preexisting illusions like safety.
We get up to a red light.
While we're getting up to the red light, a cat crosses the road.
It fucks with my brain.
All of a sudden, at the red light,
I see standing a 20-foot-tall pussycat with one eye.
And there was light shooting out of the cat's eye.
And the cat was morphing and dancing and changing
and as we got closer, the cat morphed into a Delhi policeman…
…with a torch in his hand.
The Delhi police will shine a torch in your eyes, we know this.
They're like, "On the off chance you haven't had an accident yet…"
We get up to this policeman, who is 6'4", a sardar,
and I swear to God, his name was Hunta Singh.
And as we start to flee, he tries to flag us down.
I'm told, 18-years old, high on acid, I make direct eye contact and go…
If you think running away from a Delhi policeman pisses them off,
try meowing at them.
They go insane.
He followed us for 3 kilometres.
We get to another red light, and I still do not know why
this is when my bastard friend starts following traffic laws.
He stops.
Hunta Singh got off and beat me with my helmet on.
It still hurt. I was like, "What is this helmet for?"
Then he beat me with my helmet,
and I understood what the helmet was for.
Then he started hitting me with his torch,
which I thought was a magical light and kept catching with my face…
…to taste his rainbow.
Then, he looked at my friend, and he was like, "Show me your license."
And my friend Susheel pulled out a learner's license.
I don't mean to stop the show, but does that… does that joke work here?
Yeah, let me explain,
So, uh, guys, in India,
on a learner's license, you're not allowed to do acid.
Same? I see this license go past my face
and it's got like colours and an aura and energy.
I have an idea!
I also pull out my learner's license.
I'm like, "Inspector Hunta Singh,
if we combine…"
"…the power of two learner's licenses…"
"…they will become a full license, sir.
Which is like saying, if two college kids fuck each other,
they will become a professor, sir."
And he laughed so much, he let me go.
Second story.
I was 35 years old.
I was in a nightclub in Mumbai.
Thirty-five is old enough to know how absurd the Indian fighting ritual is.
I bumped up against this alpha male when I was dancing, right?
Bro got angry.
He was like, "Bro! Are you okay?"
I was really smashed.
I was like, "Yeah, it's really soft."
Bro went insane.
He was like, "Fucker! Meet me outside after this song."
After this song? Then…
Then for four minutes, we just awkwardly danced…
…while making eye contact
until "Tunak Tunak Tuun" finished,
which is the longest song in the world.
Legit, yo.
This is one out of five choruses of Daler Mehndi's masterpiece.
Tunak tunak tuun, tunak tunak tuun Tunak tunak tuun
Fucking tunak tunak tuun, Tunak tunak tuun tunak tunak tuun
Then it goes higher.
Tunak tunak tuun, Tunak tunak tuun tunak tunak tuun
Then it goes lower.
Tunak tunak tuun, Tunak tunak tuun tunak tunak tuun
Last one.Tunak tunak tuun, Tunak tunak tuun tunak tunak tuun
I lied.Tunak tunak tuun, Tunak tunak tuun tunak tunak tuun
Fuck the song!
Think about the emotional journey we just went through right now.
So they don't fight first.
First, they will stand around in a circle
and tell you how many people in your family they will fuck.
I'll fuck your mother, your sister, your brother.
I will fuck your mother, father, gardener,
your executive assistant.
I'm like, "Am I needed for this?"
"You have a concrete plan, bro!"
"I feel like…"
"I feel like we're just gathering to abuse a family."
The fight began, right?
Fucking, I thought I'd land a punch.
This Punjabi guy stuck his chest against my chest
and started rubbing his chest against my chest.
I was like, "Sir!"
My nipples do not know the difference
between sensual friction and aggressive friction.
He got both of them equally perky like a cathode-anode situation.
Then he stuck his fucking face to my face.
His pupil touched my pupil,
and he saw my memories, all right?
He was like, "Is there a tooth in your stomach?"
Then he fucking started breathing hot air into my mouth.
I started breathing hot air into his,
just becoming the thing I despise,
which is how I feel about elections in India.
Then he was like, "What will you do? Will you do something?
Do it, fucker! I want you to do it!"
Which translates to, "Do it! I want you to do it!
Please do it. Do something. Do it! Do it now!"
So I licked his ear.
It was right there.
I was like, "This is not confrontation. This is consent."
Oh, don't you judge my palate, all right?
You have Bombay sandwiches from Mithibai. That's ball-scratching bread, all right?
And a wave of confusion went over that man's face.
You just saw him realise, "I don't know if we are fucking or fighting!"
Which is how I feel about elections in India.
And he went to his friends and he's like, "But he isthat."
Translation, "But he is that."
You've ever been so confused, your grammar deserts your homophobia?
And then we didn't even fight.
We just went inside and danced for four more hours.
Fuck me.
I just wanna take you in. There are four minutes left in the show right now.
You know, I…
I came to Mumbai with a suitcase
and no contacts, no money, no comedy scene,
and there's a stadium here today.
And then,
you have a voice again.
I did both shows.
Right before the show, you're standing backstage at a church,
you're putting your foot up on the stadium and
your voice is different.
And when I say your voice is different, I mean your voice is different.
Six weeks ago, I didn't know if I was gonna be here on stage.
This is insane, you know the--
I was watching that… you know, you remember Freddie Mercury inLive Aid,
where he had no voice and he's like…
Oh shit!
It's not the same.
And there's this whole other Special that Netflix paid you lot of money to do,
where you thought about everything that you wanted to say,
and you just don't feel like thinking that much.
All you can think is just…
-Behenchod! -Behenchod!
Behenchod! Behenchod!
-Behenchod! -Behenchod!
Behenchod!
I was summoned by the Mumbai police.
I was accused of stealing a joke from myself.
This is very confusing.
I wrote two shows about India,
and they both had one common topic with different jokes.
Right? So I had to go and explain joke structure to the Mumbai police.
Which I'm about to explain to you now. Are you ready, yeah?
Mumbai, every joke has three parts.
Number one, undeniable factual information.
Number two, a premise. Number three, a punchline. Observe.
Undeniable factual information.
Not all nipples are the same size.
Right? Here's a premise.
My nipples are like India and Pakistan.
Punchline.
They used to be a lot close, but over the years, they just grew apart.
It's an okay joke. I'm just illustrating…
By the way, any Pakistani people here?
Yes!
Listen, I love you guys. You're always welcome in my show, alright?
Don't put this on social media.
What's your name, buddy from Pakistan?
Shehzaad.
Shehzaad, I do believe that one day our countries will be friends.
I do believe that. Genuinely. Yeah.
Uh--
I don't know. I just…
We just gotta find some common… enemy.
Let's go blow up the Maldives together, huh?
Fuck the Maldives.
Fucking, both our navies together, Shehzaad. Let's do it, alright?
Sixty-five of our ships, two of your jet skis…
Even Shehzaad is like, "Two jet skis, huh?"
The point…
The point I'm trying to make is in a different joke,
part one never changes.
Observe, Mumbai, here's a different joke.
Undeniable factual information, "Not all nipples…"
"…are the same."
Here's a different premise. My nipples are like politics in India.
Punchline.
For as long as I can remember,
the right is way more sensitive.
Now, that--
That joke is very easy to explain to a comedy crowd in a stadium.
Very tough to explain to the Mumbai police at 8 o'clock in the morning.
My lawyer and I are getting our files together
in front of this Mumbai policeman called Inspector Tapse.
He wants to get our attention. He's like, "Hey!"
Immediately, every molecule in my body just goes, "Daddy!"
And he looks at me and he's like, "These jokes you do…
Are they funny?"
"Inspector Tapse, it's like, not all nipples…" I do the entire routine.
I look at my lawyer who looks like she wants to quit the profession of law
because her client is pinching his nipples in a police station.
Zero response.
Now, when a joke's not going well, a comedian turns the gun on themselves.
That's how you get the crowd.
So I'm like, "Inspector Tapse, why am I actually going to jail for jokes?
Please just give me two months to commit a real crime."
"And grow a real beard because I am too tiny
and too pretty for jail, sir.
I will be humped in 15 minutes."
Finally, this man laughs. I get the laugh.
He's like, "You? You will be humped in one minute."
"Wait. I will be humpedinone minute, or I will be humpedforone minute?"
And he said, "Both."
"But listen, you cannot copyright topics in India.
I'm gonna take your statement. Tell me everything you said in Marathi."
I don't…
So I'm like,
My chest testicles…
My chest testicles are different…
…heavy.
He's like, "Okay."
"West Mumbai and East Mumbai…"
"Coke studio, tunak tunak.
Me, man, man, man…
testies spread, spread, spread."
He's like, "You should do that on stage. It's very relatable."
I'm like, "Yeah, but it's not really global."
He said, "Don't be silly. Indian comedy is not global."
He writes it all down.
Every word.
He's like, "Now I need to confiscate your passport. Hand it over."
I hand it over.
He puts it five feet away, inside a file,
under this paper where some jokes are written.
"You lose your passport. God has taken your passport, man."
I prayed
in that police station.
And when I'm laughing… When I'm desperate, I laugh.
And he's like, "Is something funny?"
I'm like, "Inspector Tapse,
you're writing my joke down word for word in your file.
Technically…"
"…that's copyright infringement."
And he laughs.
He's like, "You'll write a joke about anything, huh?"
I'm like, "Sir, if you let me."
"Sir, I don't know, but I promise you when I write the joke,
I will be the punchline."
-"And what about me?" -"Sir, you will be an undeniable fact."
I promise you.
"Sir, please, I just need--"
"I will never forget this.
Thank you."
"You make me look good."
"I'm gonna make you look like a God."
"Go now.
Are you happy?"
I wanted to do this before we leave, because, you know,
um, I was told I have to.
Life, life, life, life, Life, life, life is vertical
Life, life, life is, life is
Vir mama, Vir mama, life is
Life, life, life is, life is
Life, life is, life is vertical
Life, life, life, life, life The world is changing
Life, life, life, life, life, life Vir mama, Vir mama
Life, life, life, life World is changing
Life, life, life, The world is changing
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The world is changing Life is vertical
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Vir mama, Vir mama, life is
Life, life, life, life is , life is
Life is, life, life is vertical
Life, life, life, life, life The world is changing
Life, life, life, life, life, life Vir mama, Vir mama
Life, life, life, life The world is changing
Life is vertical
Life, life, life, life is, life is
Vir mama, Vir mama, life is
Life, life, life, life is, life is
Life is, life is, life is vertical
Life, life, life, life, life The world is changing
Life, life, life, life, life, life Vir mama, Vir mama
Life, life, life, life, life The world is changing
Life, life, life, life The world is changing
Life is vertical
Life, life, life, life is, life is
Vir mama, Vir mama, life is
Life, life, life, life is, life is
Life is, life is, life is vertical
Life, life, life, life, life The world is changing
Life, life, life, life, life, life Vir mama, Vir mama
Life, life, life, life, life The world is changing
Life, life, life, life, life, life The world is changing, Vir mama
Life, life, life, life, life The world is changing
Life is vertical