The Long, Dark Chai-Time of the Soul
The Disney+ Hotstar series OK Computer (2021) is an uneven but entertaining show, swimming in the ambitious territory of mystery, comedy, science fiction, and philosophy, all in an uniquely Indian setting.
It’s 2031, somewhere in Goa. The coastal state, known more for its beaches and fishing communities, looks somewhat transformed in this near-future: a mix of current-day Singapore, some of the night-neon aesthetic of Blade Runner, and still heavily-sprinkled with the architecture of contemporary India as we know it. A rare criminal act has been committed in this world: a self-driving car has killed a human pedestrian. Inspector Saajan Kundu (Vijay Varma) boldly calls it a murder.
Confusion ensues. By harming a human, it is alleged that the machine has broken one of the Three Laws of Robotics (as borrowed from worlds created by sci-fi legend Isaac Asimov). The victim is disfigured and unidentifiable, and his mangled, mushy state is thus referred to only as ‘Pav Bhaji’. The car—the ‘murderer’ in this case—is personified, given a name (Nikhil), and is suspected of keeping ‘bad company’. Even technology isn’t safe from the pitfalls of Indian nationalism, as the car speaks in Hindi. “Government ka kehna hai ki, unko agar yahan rehna hai to yahan ki bhasha bolni paregi.” (The government says that if you wish to live here, then you have to speak our language.”) All around the crime scene, machines work in close conjunctions with the humans, from analysing DNA to making cups of chai. Humans and robots discuss the meaning of real and unreal, ethics and humanity. Slapstick comedy alternates next to witty, geek-friendly one-liners.
Ajeeb is a scene-stealer, a ‘messiah’ machine that begins to achieve a sort of singularity: a robot that can write its own code, create its own consciousness; and who, confronted with the great crises facing humanity and the world, instead chooses to pursue stand-up comedy.
Within just the first few minutes, the Disney+ Hotstar series OK Computer—created by Pooja Shetty and Neil Pagedar—is already in the ambitious territory of mystery, comedy, science fiction, and philosophy, all in a uniquely Indian setting, unlike anything seen on screen before.
The ground-breaking show, written by Shetty, Pagedar, and Anand Gandhi, was released on Hotstar in late March. From the onset, it is abundantly clear that the sci-fi-comedy is heavily inspired by perhaps the best-known series of this genre: Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, a series of radio shows, books, and on-screen adaptions. The title of the show itself is borrowed from the band Radiohead’s 1997 album OK Computer, who in turn paid homage to Adams’ work in their song “Paranoid Android”.
In Hotstar’s OK Computer, Kundu and Laxmi Suri (played by the always-excellent Radhika Apte) play opposite ends of a cliched spectrum in the face of AI and technology. Kundu is a cop inherently suspicious of AI and mistrusts all droids; Suri is an AI scientist behind PETER—People For The Ethical Treatment of Every Robot—who empathises with droids, is sworn to protect them, and asks for their consent before examining them. A colourful gamut of men, women, and machines populate the show’s universe, including cops Monalisa Paul (Kani Kusruti) and Ashfaq Auliya (Sarang Sathaye), a shady all-controlling corporation ZIP, represented by the haphazard Trisha Singh (Ratnabali Bhattacharjee), and the always-naked Jackie Shroff as the head of the Jigyasa Jagruti Manch (JJM), an anti-tech, anti-science activist group hell-bent to terrorise the rise of machines.
It is an impressive cast-list, fronting a uniquely comic premise. While the satirical set-up that forms the framework of the series is outstanding, too much of the acting and the situational comedy is wasted on slapstick hijinks. Most of the characters play one-dimensional tropes for a cheap comic effect, instead of being given room to truly surprise and delight. The creators of the show, dealing with heady topics, put in too heavy an effort in trying to keep this show light-hearted, and in the process, underestimate that the audience will be entertained by the science and natural humour of this alternate reality—without the cheap thrills.
If the human characters in the show are its big flaw, there is some redemption found in the robots and droids that populate the series, each one instilled with a memorable personality. These include a chaiwallah robot, a pizza-delivery robot, hawker-bots that offer wi-fi and cloud space, a tiny bot that gambles with the maya and atman of known reality, and more extrapolations of Hitchhiker’s Guide’s Marvin the Paranoid Android: machines cursed with advanced intelligence, exhausted under the morose weight of consciousness. “Ek aur din hai jeene ki wajah mere liye” (Just another day to keep living), remarks a trash-collecting-robot.
Bonding all these sides together is Ajeeb (voiced by Neil Pagedar), a god-machine created to solve humanity’s problems. Ajeeb is a scene-stealer, a ‘messiah’ machine that begins to achieve a sort of singularity: a robot that can write its own code, create its own consciousness; and who, confronted with the great crises facing humanity and the world, instead chooses to pursue stand-up comedy. It is another hat-tip to a Hitchhiker’s Guide entity: the supercomputer Deep Thought, which was built to answer the ultimate question to Life, The Universe, And Everything, and seven-and-half-million years later, only comes up with “42”.
Ajeeb is the fulcrum for much of the series’ quirky humour and metaphysical quandaries. By definition of the aforementioned Laws of Robotics, a robot cannot tell a lie; but comedy, Ajeeb discovers, is by its very essence built upon a structure of exaggerations, set-ups, small lies, stories and fictions. That dichotomy between true and lies and fact and fiction, humorously helps build the backbone of the show’s philosophical debate. When asked to choose between two chairs to take a seat, Ajeeb responds, “Yahan behethun, kahan behethun? Yahan par do kursian hai, aur main binary mein vishwas nahi karta; mera thora quantam wallah jajta hai.” (Should I sit here or there? There are two seats here, and I don’t believe in binaries. I have a quantum mindset).
In another scene where the worlds of AI and humour intertwine is when Shroff’s character, Pushpak Shakur, critiques the dark side of technology: fake news, privacy loss, fear, unemployment… and kharab (stale) memes. Are robots and AI going to steal the humanity out of humans? Their souls? This is what Pushpak argues: that humans will become more machinelike, and machines more human—including telling jokes like humans do.
OK Computer doesn’t shy away from sneaking in a number of scientific and philosophical wisecracks that bubble over the surface of the main plot. The writers pack in a number of more themes in the show’s tight, six-episode lattice, including discourse on climate change, reality and illusion, comedy and the divine joke, the pitfalls of monopolised capitalism, the loopholes of the legal world, politics, free will, and the upcoming technological unemployment. In a world where robots have replaced humans to deliver pizza, a human—police inspector Ashfaq—has to don a robot costume to deliver pizzas as a side-hustle. “In this economic climate,” says Ashfaq, “robots have the best job security.”
The series rightly assumes that the Indian audience is smart enough to enjoy a narrative that tackles these deep issues of science, AI, humanity, and philosophy... and yet, it doesn't assume that the same viewers have the maturity to find humour in its subtlety.
The representation of robots and technology is also dealt with in an appropriately light-hearted way, also inspired by the 2005 Hitchhikers Guide feature film by Garth Jennings. The robots have incredible software and AI ability, but the hardware seems to be made out of the cheapest, spare parts—Indian innovative intelligence meets Indian jugaad. The art direction and design pits recognisable Indian visual schemes in a slightly-alternative future, and gives OK Computer its distinct and memorable identity. A major chunk of an episode even takes place inside a virtual-reality game, a wholly original creation called “Kailash”. It is a universe within a universe, and another creative twist to delight the tech-obsessed young Indian generation.
India is truly a fertile market for a series like this, with the world’s biggest population of the young, the scientific, and the tech-savvy. It’s surprising, then, that this population had thus far been so underserved with an entertaining and mainstream show like OK Computer. In the past, too many screenwriters had underestimated our scientific intelligence, afraid that the “masses” wouldn’t understand, dumbing down even their efforts to breach new sci-fi boundaries. OK Computer, however, should prove that this is exactly the type of content that the new generation have eagerly been waiting for.
And yet, it often feels like OK Computer was written by different, opposing minds, pulling and tugging its pace and tone in different directions: one that wants to entertain a scientifically-inclined audience, and the other that only wants to chase the low-hanging fruits of silly humour. The series rightly assumes that the Indian audience is smart enough to enjoy a narrative that tackles these deep issues of science, AI, humanity, and philosophy... and yet, it doesn't assume that the same viewers have the maturity to find humour in its subtlety.
Then, there are throwaway interviews—mockumentary style—inspired by popular shows like The Office—but there is no consistency of reasoning behind this filming choice. It’s meta for meta’s sake.
The unevenness of the show circles back to its character development. Only Varma’s Saajan Kundu is given any agency, a thin layer of complexity beyond the hot-headed façade. But when the show’s tone shifts to an attempted serious territory, it is hard to empathise with Laxmi, Monalisa, or Ajeeb; their characters simply aren’t complex enough for an emotional investment. An attempt at sorrow, like everything else in the series, feels over-exaggerated, and thus, loses its impact.
By the end, the series falls victim to its own attempts of intertangled knots and complexities. OK Computer often tries to be a commentary on many big things, but its execution doesn't match its ambition, and the knots fail to unravel themselves in a satisfying manner.
Despite its flaws, however, what propels OK Computer is its writing, which remains sharp. At its foundation, it is a creative and entertaining story that waters the barren grounds of Indian sci-fi and features slivers of truly inspired humour. Humanity may be doomed, but at least we can have a few chuckles along the way to the singularity.
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Karan Madhok is a writer, journalist, and editor of The Chakkar, whose fiction, translation, and poetry have appeared in Gargoyle, The Literary Review, The Bombay Review, The Lantern Review, F(r)iction, and more. He is the founder of the Indian basketball blog Hoopistani and has contributed to NBA India, SLAM Magazine, FirstPost, and more. His debut novel is forthcoming on the Aleph Book Company. You can find him on Twitter: @karanmadhok1 and Instagram: @karanmadhok.
