Weekend Laff Factory:  Terry Gajraj invades the Bronx
By Paul Sanders

On stage at the Richmond Hill High School last weekend, “Pandit Sugar Mouth and Pandit Hurry Up” had the Saturday night crowd right where they wanted them: laughing so hard they were dabbing away tears.

Come to think of it, it has been a bad season lately for the pandit enterprise.  Terry Gajraj calls it “wicked good, pandit.” 

And if you notice there’s a drop in the “aarti” money, blame Flat-Tire Productions.  Okay, you can blame the pandits, too.  But know this: if it wasn’t for the good works of these holy men, comic artists would have surely starved.

“Laff till yuh belly bust” is a goldmine of “pandit” jokes.  It is the point of no return when it comes to putting a pandit’s life under comic scrutiny.  So since you can’t laugh at them during their “pooja,” then you can giggle at them from the set of a production stage.

“Laff till yuh belly bust” comes to the Bronx this Saturday night with one intention: to rip your ribs open with comic hysterics and fun amusements that’ll send you coughing to the mandir.

Oh yeah.  This is one big, bad, helluva laughing matter.  And not just anyone can attend this show.  We suspect the pandits might not want to come out to see their funny sides.

When “Pandit Sugar Mouth and Pandit Hurry Up” collide, the skirmish is less about the sacred scriptures and more about business.  The business of making money.  And so they duke it out with mad, mad humor, captivating audience with unexpected punch lines and send ups.

Director Mahadeo Shivraj tunes “Pandit Sugar Mouth and Pandit Hurry Up” for a one-shop, non-stop laugher.  He introduces the power of technology in this skit to demonstrate the juxtaposition between science and metaphysics.

The result: a social commentary and an exploration of religious leaders that can be bent, stretched, inverted, converted and manipulated to enhance self-scrutiny, with humor.

The plot infuses the street beat of Hip-Hop and Rap as both pandits are caught in a runaway money grabbing scheme in which naïve devotees play catch-up.  Packed with slam dunk teases, pranks and funny hoaxes, “Pandit Sugar Mouth and Pandit Hurry Up” is an over-the-top routine that will leave you staggering for balance.

Ramesh Deochand and Ajay Singh both play religious men in the piece.  Their sense of comic timing is dead on, as they goof their way through the script, always entertaining us with ball cracking hilarity.

And that ain’t all.

Chutney maestro Terry Gajraj invades the set.  In Culture Clash Terry brings style, nuance and a musical expression that runs contrary to the rhythm of the bhagans and rags of a pandit’s pretensions.

This is where a chutney wiz kid wars with a bhagan expert.  And the exercise of compare-and-contrast takes us into an operatic journey of vivid sound, wacky recitals and wild laughter.     

Terry Gajraj’s gutsy chutney rhythm, scrambled influences, rhythms and the eclectic sampling of soca provide a bright, delightful touch of zaniness to stage theatre that is by turns madcap and sober.

Terry’s repertoire is instantly addictive; he’s got lyrics that stick; and the chutney verses fit snugly between the bhagan’s segments.  His stage presence is bold, dramatic; his astounding mixture of fervent naturalism is poetic; he turns a handsome gag into something even better.

Culture Clash is much more about a star that needs a feud; it’s about the paradoxes in the generation gap.  It’s about a bhagan fanatic who finds new possibilities in old grooves.

It’s also about tons of laughter.  It creeps up upon your funny bone in such a way, you’ll beg for a sequel.  Of course the draw is Terry Gajraj, unleashed and a bag full of chutney melodies to create a breakneck backbeat that ignites the righteous indignation of the pandit (played by Ramesh Deochand).

Ching Meing is mouth-watering fun.  It’s a platter overlapped with a hybrid of Chinese and West Indian dialect, spicy laughter and with a quite funny ending.  The flavor is strictly Caribbean; the taste comedic for those with an appetite for piping, hot fun.

Darryl Roopnarine plays a smart-ass fast food chef whose play on words will leave you panting for breath with wild hysterics.  As an artist, Darryl brings to the table the full complement of his cooking obsessions in a predictable, yet enthralling style.

Ching Meing offers Darryl new creativity in hilariously exaggerated ways.  Like a meal prepared by an extreme chef, Ching Meing is more than a bit of mess. It still tastes like nothing you’ve ever had before.  The material is funny, and Darryl is wildly entertaining.

The cast of “Laff till yuh belly bust” is an eclectic mixture of elements that make this production a winner.  The various skits are a marvel of comedic ingenuity and a mile-a-minute creativity run wild.  Comedy doesn’t get much smarter, funnier, better than this.

“Laff till yuh belly bust” is sharp; a shock to the establishment that is virtually impossible to dislike.  And if you don’t leave the performance grinning your face off, then buddy, comedy is not for you.