Out of Print Workshop at MAP: 'Tragedy is a Comedy Misunderstood' by Prachi Uchil

Tragedy is Comedy Misunderstood

By Prachi Uchil

‘Tragedy is a comedy misunderstood,’ echoed the words of a famous author, leaving a thoughtful resonance as the curator concluded her heartwarming narration of the works. Kumar was left to ponder the blurred lines between humour and sorrow.

For most, it was a typical Sunday morning. Yet, for Gen Z, the day truly began in the middle hours. Kumar, dressed in chequered shorts and a vest, made his way to the refrigerator, driven by the protests of his hungry stomach. A pair of eyes followed his every move. Without turning, he called out, ‘Don’t stare at me. Finish your food and let me get mine in peace.’

Peering through his thick, black-rimmed soda-bottle glasses, Kumar surveyed the contents of the fridge: just a couple of white bread slices and a solitary egg, both enjoying the chill of 4°C. He pulled out the bread, checked the expiration date, and shrugged. ‘Stale bread, hmm,’ he mused, debating whether to toast it or discard it. Turning to the watchful eyes, he announced, ‘It’s stale,’ holding up the packet. A tilt of the head from his companion signalled agreement.

‘Should I throw it away?’ Kumar asked, seeing the sad look in the eyes facing him. ‘Or should I make a gazpacho?’ The thought lingered, but making cold soup from stale bread felt like too much effort.

Kumar picked up his phone and opened the Blinkit app, knowing he could receive a multi-millet bread – a healthier option – in just five minutes. He leaned against the counter and asked his phone, ‘Gemini, give me a gazpacho recipe.’ The AI assistant responded instantly with multiple suggestions, but Blinkit’s convenience seemed more appealing.

Looking for reassurance, Kumar glanced up only to find the empty bowl left behind, prompting a chuckle as he carried it to the sink.

He wondered why he should settle for another packet of bread when Zomato could deliver a hearty breakfast in the same timeframe, one that could easily serve as both breakfast and dinner.

As Kumar waited for his meal to arrive, he surveyed his bare 8x10 kitchen. A couple of plates and mugs sat in the otherwise empty cabinets, and a solitary saucepan dangled loosely from a hook. A memory flickered – Kumar as a child, running in and out of a laughter-filled kitchen, the gentle knocking of steel ladles against brass vessels. Shelves once full of dals and masalas completed the picture.

He brushed away the nostalgia with a wistful smile as MyGate pinged for preapproval. The sound of a thud and the swivel of his computer chair reached him, and Kumar grinned, saying, ‘Again, you have taken my spot.’ The bell rang in response. A young delivery boy, chattering on his Bluetooth, handed over the parcel without waiting for a greeting and quickly returned to the lift.

Kumar slowly opened his Kerala breakfast – appam stew, with an extra helping of chicken curry. He headed toward his solitary chair but chose the comfort of the floor instead, smiling as he settled down.

‘Master Shifu,’ he said, addressing his ginger cat, who was now fast asleep on his back legs sprawled in different directions, his little tongue just peeking out of his mouth. The solitude in the companionship was more profound than busy chatter over Bluetooth devices.