Stand-up comedian Kavin Jayaram looks suitably disgruntled as he strides into the lobby of the New Straits Times to meet me. He isn’t all that late. “Traffic was a b***h,” he says half-apologetically, half-grumpily. He’s a lot more reticent than the smiley cherubic bundle of jokes I last saw charming Singaporeans on his Netflix special Everybody Calm Down! (Incidentally, he’s the second Malaysian comedian offered an eponymous special on the popular entertainment streaming channel) while letting loose his opinions on everything from politics to food, and casting aspersions on the well-fought “who does it better?” Singapore-Malaysia rivalry.
Tattooed, bald and bearded with a frown, Kavin looks more the part of a rabid member of Hells Angel (minus the ubiquitous leather jacket and the big bad bike) than someone ready with a well-timed joke at a moment’s notice. “Well I’m Indian!” he exclaims, shrugging his shoulders, frown in check and no joke in sight.
It sets the mood Kavin has been in for most of his career, which is why the show he’s bringing to PJ Live Arts this Oct 5 is called Let’s Get Ready to Grumble. His comedy specials have names like Angry Indians and the apoplectic Anger Management. His day isn’t going to get any better with the inevitable questions about his life. “It’s not an interrogation,” I assure him but he’s not mollified until I mention I enjoyed his show on Netflix. “Thank you!” he answers, looking relieved.
Are you usually as angry as you’re touted to be? I ask. After all, Kavin is known for his rapid-fire, grumpy jokes and his moniker is “the grumpiest comedian in Malaysia”. “I get annoyed easily,” he replies, a rare smile breaking across his face. What annoys him? “Traffic, for one,” he answers deadpan. Malaysians are some of the nicest people on earth, he points out. “…until they get into a car. That’s when civil war breaks out!”
A lot of things annoy him, but that doesn't mean he'd rather be talking about something else more pleasant. The reason it hasn’t given him a heart attack yet is probably that he needs that as fuel for his stand-up comedy. “It makes me angry, and that’s when I start to poke at it and find a joke,” he says.
Would he rather be talking about something more pleasant? “No, no,” he says. “‘That’s where my humour comes from. So I’m screwed.” He can’t resist laughing at that. “My humour always starts with anger. But I’m lucky. A lot of people don’t have an outlet to air their annoyances. I’ve found one. In fact, I get paid to do it… which is nice!”
ANGRY YOUNG MAN
Anger had been the running theme in Kavin’s formative years. He was the quintessential rebellious schoolboy who’d rather bunk school than study. “I got kicked out of school,” he admits sheepishly, adding: “I wasn’t expelled but was politely advised to transfer schools!”
It wasn’t the lack of interest in academics that kept him out of school. Kavin had a learning disability. “It’s weird because during the 80s and the early 90s, nobody knew how to spell dyslexia let alone know what it was,” he says drily.
Growing up “in a home where reading and writing had great value,” Kavin recalls he tried his best to keep up with his brother, but oftentimes was left to simply “…pretend because I had trouble reading and making sense of words, in particular, letters,” he says, adding candidly: “According to my parents, I was either stupid or ‘itchy’!” Without the proper support and education, dyslexia can often leave eager students feeling self-conscious and inadequate. He wasn’t any different. “I felt stupid and I acted out by ditching school and doing a lot of stupid things as a kid,” he confesses.
He eventually moved schools to Sekolah Menengah Kelana Jaya (“…the only school that would take me in!”) which he says was a blessing in disguise when one of the teachers recognised that he had a learning disability. “I discovered I wasn’t stupid!” he says bluntly.
It was then that he began to make strides. From being in the last class, he got placed in the first class. “It was a drastic change. I turned out to be a straight-A student!” he recalls, smiling. His parents were stumped at the about-turn. “They kept asking me suspiciously if I’d copied during the exams!” he recounts, shaking his head. Continues Kavin: “I knew then I could do all those things I thought I couldn’t do before.” He believes with every disability comes an extra ability. “I think mine was that I had a good memory and I could pick up something very easily.”
He obtained a scholarship to the UK to study marine engineering. Did he want to be an engineer? Not really, he says. He wanted to pursue something in the arts, but it wasn’t an option. “I was always interested in arts,” he replies. It stemmed from his dyslexia. “I loved art in school because it wasn’t formulaic and wasn’t something I had to concentrate on.”
When he left school, engineering seemed like the easiest option to take. “Let’s face it, as a Malaysian there are only a few ‘approved’ career options available – doctor, accountant, lawyer or engineer!” he remarks drily. He confesses to wanting a career in culinary arts. His parents objected, of course.
Yet his surprisingly good results did more than just shock his parents. Shares Kavin: “I remember being sat down and told by my parents that they didn’t realise I was going to do so well at school. They spent most of their funds sending my brother to college. My option was to either get a job to support my studies or try to score a scholarship!”
He managed to secure a scholarship from an oil & gas company for a field he didn’t quite care about. “But it was a toss between free education and a free trip to the UK or get a job… so the free trip won out!” he says blithely, adding with refreshing candour: “Besides, I wanted to get as far as possible from my family as any good Indian boy did!”
FALL AND RISE OF THE ANGRY COMEDIAN
He graduated at 21 and worked with an oil company for a while, but unsurprisingly found that marine engineering “wasn’t his cup of tea”. Working offshore was difficult because he was a city boy at heart and “…constantly being cooped up on a ship with 40 men wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for a long-term career!”
He quit and returned to the city to work as a mechanical engineer in various fields. And of course, watch comedy shows – a pursuit he enjoyed while studying in the UK. He wasn’t interested in doing comedy then, saying: “I just wanted to watch. At that time it seemed like a good outlet to laugh away my problems.”
But comedy shows in Kuala Lumpur back then were few and far between. “I wanted to watch comedy shows so I thought to myself that I could either wait for months or organise my own shows!” How hard could it be? “Besides, I was single then and thought it’d be a great way to pick up girls!” he says, winking conspiratorially.
He and his cousin Andrew Netto decided to put up a show for their friends. Andrew shone but Kavin tanked. “I didn’t know what I was doing, really,” he confesses. He soon discovered it took a great deal of effort to be effortlessly amusing. “I was talking up a storm and no one really laughed,” he recalls. “Some of my friends chuckled out of pity and I could hear people whispering from the corner of the room, ‘What’s he doing?’” It was the hardest 20 minutes of his life. “I was sweating profusely. Time moves a lot slower when you’re not doing well on stage!” he shares, chuckling.
That would have been the end of anyone’s stand-up dream. But not Kavin. “My cousin dragged me to another show, and I did slightly better,” he shares. This time he was better prepared. “I watched YouTube videos of a few stand-up comedians and I tried to understand how they did it. I didn’t quite grasp everything, but at least I learnt a little bit more to get me through my segment without tanking completely!” It marked the beginning of a remarkable career for Andrew who went on to make a name in stand-up comedy, leaving Kavin behind in the trail of his stardust.
ANGRY INSPIRATIONS
For Kavin, the road to stardom took a little longer. “I wondered what I was going to do now,” he says candidly. He held on to his engineering job, but the stage remained an irresistible lure despite the setbacks. He soon got to know and banded up with a few aspiring stand-up comedians (back then) including Papi Zak, Phoon Chi Ho and Kuah Jenhan. “We were this bunch of misfits who decided to do shows together. In the meantime, I continued to work on refining my act,” recalls Kavin. “Everybody thought I’d fade into obscurity, which – to be fair – should have happened.”
They were lucky, he concedes, because there wasn’t a thriving comedy scene with the exception of a few established comedians like Harith Iskandar and Joanne Kam. “They cost a lot of money!” he says, chuckling. “You could save tonnes of money then by hiring us. Back then, I’d do comedy for a couple of beers and a high-five!”
A few establishments did take them up. Humble beginnings became learning ground from which great comedy was eventually birthed. “We’d perform in pubs on weekdays when there was hardly anyone around except regulars who were interested in having their drinks,” he recalls, laughing heartily, adding: “We had hecklers and drunkards who’d grab the mic from us to tell a ‘knock-knock’ joke!”
These shows, he says fondly, made them grow as comics, giving them thicker skins and taught them to understand their audience. Eventually the gigs started getting better. When Time Out Magazine started doing event listings in Kuala Lumpur, they realised that there weren’t many comedy gigs around to be listed. “They decided to organise a monthly comedy show. We were one of the cheapest acts around so we headlined the show!” he says, adding: “For once, we had an actual audience who paid to watch the show, as opposed to our usual ‘guerilla comedy’ in places where people were forced to listen to our jokes!”
Their first show had seven people in attendance. But it soon started gaining momentum. “Our jokes got better!” he quips. People started paying attention – and laughing. “That’s when we realised we could do this… and do it well.” They were soon gaining recognition as comics. Shares Kavin: “We were picked out to open for international acts and we started getting better and better.”
Opportunities presented themselves and shows came in thick and fast. “I was constantly travelling for shows and it soon began apparent that I needed to put both feet into comedy,” he explains. Kavin dabbled in radio for a while, co-hosting the Red JAM on Red FM, but engineering proved to be the one that put ‘bacon on the table’ while he was busy trying to establish himself as a comedian. “I still freelance as one though,” he says, grinning. A radio host? “No, an engineer!” he replies, chuckling.
What does his conservative family think of his comedic career? “My mother is very much in denial,” he admits candidly. “When I left my marine engineering job, my parents were livid! I became the black sheep of the family. It was as though I murdered a child!” They still can’t comprehend how he could abandon a solid engineering career for one in comedy. “Till today, I still feel the weight of that shame,” he says softly.
Kavin’s brother proved to be an unexpected ally. “He always thought I could make a good comic,” he recalls. “He encouraged my cousin and I to pursue comedy.” His brother passed away from a heart attack a few months before his debut on stage. “I always wanted to talk about him in my shows but I don’t think I’ve reached the maturity of handling such a heavy topic as a comedian,” confides Kavin.
Has his parents watched his shows? “My father has,” he replies, adding with a chuckle: “I think he likes it. But my mum is afraid of coming to my shows. She’s afraid I’ll reveal our family secrets on stage!” A brief pause, he grins widely and says: “To be fair to her, I have. But they’re jokes, ma!”
These make perfect material for his ‘angry’ shows – and he agrees. “I went through an angry phase,” he says, “and I still get angry. I’m a human being. Stand-up, why I love it so much, is because you get paid for doing therapy,” he concludes, laughing heartily.