Ahmed Bharooca
written by Jerome J.J. Leslie
“I was working at Stitches,” recalls Ahmed Bharooca. “I just started writing for about a year when I was there. Just writing. I watched the movie “Comedian” and Seinfeld talked about how hard he worked at comedy. The day I bought that movie, I watched it twice and bought my first notebook. I just starting writing that day. Just writing, writing, writing.”
And it is from that writing that Ahmed has made his name in the comedy circles of the Northeast.
Four years ago, Ahmed visited a restaurant in Providence, Rhode Island, where they had a comedy club, Stitches Comedy Club. He wanted to do comedy, but hadn’t told anyone yet. His idea was to first just work there and watch comedy. “So,” says Ahmed, “I applied to be a dishwasher. I could listen and watch all the shows. I worked up to being a busboy and just watching shows. I worked there for about a year before I told anyone I wanted to do stand-up, and that’s where I first went on stage.”
There’s a Dunkin Donuts around the corner from The Comedy Studio. Comedians working the Friday Night showcase here in Cambridge are already floating into the shop for their pre-show caffeine fix, talking about where they’re going to perform or see shows that evening, using the hot coffee to warm their hands from the sub-freezing temperatures that arrived early in Massachusetts.
Ahmed sits at a table in a button down shirt, and jeans. His anticipation and excitement for his show at the Studio tonight is building. Like the other comics, he knows a Friday at the Studio will always be a sell out and will always have an attentive and appreciative crowd. Right now, Ahmed is the king of calm. He’s more nervous about the interview then the show.
“Really,” Ahmed confesses, “I am not very good at promoting myself. It just feels weird.”
For those who have a hard time tooting their own horn, sometimes it helps if their peers take a shot at it. “I have been watching Ahmed for three years now,” says Dan Curran, comedian, “and every time I see him I always see something new. He’s constantly writing, and his jokes are so well thought out and put together that I can’t help but laugh. He is definitely one of the best up and coming comics in New England.”
“He’s one of the best comedians I know and somehow manages to out do himself with every performance. I’ve been lucky enough to work with him on and off stage, and it’s crazy how much this guys brain is built for comedy,” says Tim Vargulish.
“I feel very close to Ahmed, as two of his jokes now have become full-time themes in our household. It’s like he lives with us, but not in a creepy we- kidnapped-him kind of way, more like a he-walks-around-our-house-saying-our-favorite-jokes kind of way,” says fellow performer Bethany Van Delft.
Goleta, California is where Ahmed grew up, moving to Rhode Island when he was sixteen. “My mother is Irish-Catholic, born in Rhode Island.” says Ahmed. “My father is Pakistani-Muslim, born in Burma.” This unique pairing is a part of Ahmed’s material and certainly plays a role in shaping his perspective.
“Because they were from two different cultures,” says Ahmed. “Things really mixed in an interesting way. It was always surprising how they came from two different places, but their lives, or more their families, were so similar. Both had six brothers and sisters. Both had grandmothers who were very religious, which made both their families very religious. And they realized early that even though it was different, they did a lot of the same things. People tend to think ‘Wow, your mom is Irish, and your father is Muslim, there must have been fighting like crazy.’ But my family wasn’t the stereotype. It’s so different, it’s hard to explain.”
“I was doing this show in New York at the old Improv,” Ahmed continues, “It was the New Talent Night, you know, the bringer show. I liked this one because we got feedback from the manager (Al Martin). He’d sit us in the booth and just talk to us after the set. I didn’t do (my jokes about) my Dad for about a year because he had a Pakistani accent, and I didn’t want to do bad accents, and be one of THOSE comics. I didn’t want to put down my Dad with the jokes. I wanted to show respect, but, at the same time; he is my Dad and he is a very funny character. I just wanted to work against the stereotype. I was waiting for the feedback, and Al’s supposed to be this big booker in New York, and I thought it would be great that I’d get to talk with someone who sort of knew about comedy. We sat down, and he said ‘Your name is Ahmed.’ Why don’t you talk about that more?’ He wanted me to be this generic comedian, talking about culture and religion in that stereotypical way. He wanted my life to be like an episode of “I Love Lucy”, which is really what I was working against. It was really disappointing that people wanted the obvious. I didn’t want to write those fake-bad jokes like ‘Ah, my father blew up my Mom this morning.’”
And so Ahmed sought an interesting balance of pointing out the obvious, but not accentuating the stereotype. “My Dad is such a distinct character. He has such a neurotic, nervous, high energy guy with these strange theories on life. I thought it was easiest to bring his character into my comedy, and be respectful. I have jokes about my sisters and jokes about my Mom, but the jokes are harder for me to do, and I don’t feel they (the jokes) are as unique. Also, it’s easier to poke fun at your Dad.”
Growing up, Ahmed’s sisters and he would do little plays at the holidays for his family. They’d borrow their father’s video camera and make movies. “My mother was an artist, and always encouraged us to perform,” says Ahmed. “We just did it for fun. I enjoyed it. I always wanted to act. In California, my sister was in 
plays in the local theater and I sort of followed her around getting little parts here and there. Then in high school, I hated auditioning, but my sister would be rehearsing and the director would see me. I’d get these little parts just by being there. We moved to Rhode Island. Our high school did not have a theater program, but I did some community theater, again, by just sort of being there. I’d get all these little parts, and I just kept getting asked to do more.”
And yet, when Ahmed went to college, his focus, like fellow funny men Jeff Caldwell and Rowan Atkinson, was far from the stage. “I was always good at math,” says Ahmed “and my father wanted me to be an engineer. I thought, ‘Once I’m an engineer, I can do theater and support myself with my career.’ But, I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t doing anything creative. I was busy with this engineering idea, but 
not motivated. I was getting really frustrated, and that pushed me towards doing stand-up.”
“At first, I’d write anything, like how I was awkward,” Ahmed recalls of his initial efforts in putting together a set, “or how I couldn’t interact with girls. I didn’t know how to write a joke. I just wrote down things I thought was funny. Richard Pryor and Chris Rock had the biggest impact on me. Pryor made me realize, even before I performed on stage, that the whole joke did not have to be funny. When I first started writing, I was trying to write a funny setup. I was then trying to show my friends the joke and I was just losing them in the setup because the setup wasn’t the joke. For me, it’s better to be not funny, then kinda funny. So, my writing became more personal. I was working with my direct thoughts, my feelings, and then would find ways of giving them funny punch lines. I would edit these down, try them on friends, and continue. When I had a few jokes together, I went on stage at Stitches.”
The combination of patience and preparation has fostered Ahmed to this point and a reputation for developing new material is always sought out by club owners. He feels there are great performers, but no one has sustained anything in stand-up without the writing. “You can’t do anything, from Shakespeare to today’s movies without the writing,” he says. “I used to write out jokes word-for-word. I used to constantly rewrite the jokes, the setups, the transitions, because I didn’t want to forget them. Now, I write the premise, and work that, and find my way to the pay off. I then work it out and edit on stage. Which is a process of fighting with the material, and I am only starting to really work on it. I hate it because the original joke gets so set in my head, it’s hard to give up those lines that do not work. It’s where I am with my development as a writer and performer.”
“I don’t like when a comedian is not trying to be original. I struggle with choosing between what is good for the audience, and what I want to do,” says Ahmed. “I don’t like it when someone does just what is good for the audience. I don’t feel they are taking the craft seriously. They don’t look at it as an art. I mean, everyone is allowed to approach it their own way, but don’t disrespect the craft. I know a lot of comedians that work so hard at the craft, that it’s hard to support comedians who take the easy route. It doesn’t seem fair that the comedians taking the easy route get the stage time. The audiences eat it up, because it is funny, but as a comedian, it’s stealing. It’s not original.”
Ahmed falls into the category of talented comedians you don’t see around the scene all the time, but when they do hit the stage EVERYONE notices. “Ahmed,” comments Rick Jenkins, owner of the Comedy Studio, “comes to stand-up from an acting background, but he’s not an actor just doing stand-up. He’s got something to say, and a story to tell.”
“Always,” says Ahmed, “there is the feeling like there is a better joke, there is a better way to perform, a better way to hone the craft – the feeling that ‘it’s never enough.’ Being absolutely addicted to the craft, but never being satisfied. That, and the constant struggle between choosing jokes that you know will work with any audience, and that want to try a new joke.”
For more on Ahmed, visit MySpace.com/StandupAhmed.
Jerome J.J. Leslie is a writer and comedian from Boston. Visit jjlesliecomedian.com.