Apu is back on The Simpsons. But do Indians really need another stereotype?

Dubai: When Priyanka Chopra said on the glossy American talk show The View that Apu from The Simpsons was “the bane of my life growing up”, I knew exactly what she meant.

I've been asked whether I have an elephant at home and whether Indians marry their cousins. The elephant question is ridiculous. The cousin question? Well, cousin marriages and arranged (I prefer to call them assisted) marriages are a reality in parts of India, so let's not pretend these stereotypes aren't laced with some truth.

And then there's my obsession with gold, which my colleagues never miss an opportunity to laugh about during our morning brainstorm meetings. Guilty as charged.

But surely there's more to being Indian than curry, gold, controlling mothers and parents who won't rest until their children become doctors, mathematical geniuses or engineers (guilty as charged on the last count).

The problem isn't that we laugh at these things. It's that we've been laughing at the same things for decades.

And the reason I'm bringing this up now is that Apu Nahasapeemapetilon, the controversial Indian convenience-store owner from The Simpsons, has finally found his voice again.

After nearly nine years without a speaking role, Apu returned in the October 18 episode, The Revengening, voiced by Indian-American actor Sunil Malhotra. His wife, Manjula, also has a new voice, courtesy of Janina Gavankar.

So Springfield is finally trying to move with the times.

Apu's troubles began in earnest in 2017, when Indian-American comedian Hari Kondabolu released The Problem With Apu, a documentary questioning why a cartoon shopkeeper with an exaggerated accent had become the unofficial cultural ambassador for millions of South Asians.

Apu's last speaking appearance that year came in The Serfsons. After that, he remained largely silent.

Quite a fall for a man who once had so much to say. In 2020, Hank Azaria, the white American actor who voiced Apu, stepped away from the role. He later told Dax Shepard's Armchair Expert podcast that part of him felt he needed to personally apologise to every Indian person in America.

Now The Simpsons have resurrected Apu with a supposedly more enlightened, culturally sensitive identity.

Interestingly, even Apu's new voice actor, Sunil Malhotra, wasn't exactly jumping for joy when the offer came along.

“When my agent called me about a ‘Simpsons’ audition, I knew exactly what role it was for, and the idea actually made my stomach sink,” he told Variety.

Malhotra, who has previously turned down stereotypical Indian roles, said he considered walking away and sought assurances from the producers about how Apu would be portrayed.

Fair enough. At least he recognised the baggage that came with the character.

But here's where I struggle. Do we really need a woke, refurbished version of a character built on stereotypes? Surely a show with the creative muscle of The Simpsons can dream up a fresh Indian character instead of dusting off an old one and hoping a new voice makes him more palatable.

And Apu wasn't the only Indian character carrying this cultural baggage.

Remember Raj Koothrappali from The Big Bang Theory, played by Kunal Nayyar? The socially awkward Indian astrophysicist who initially couldn't speak to women without alcohol?

Of course, he was a scientific genius. Because apparently, Indian men on American television must either run convenience stores or possess brains that could put NASA to shame.

God forbid an Indian should be spectacularly average at mathematics.

To be fair, Raj was affectionate, sensitive and far more layered than Apu. But his accent, wealthy family, romantic awkwardness and interfering parents were frequently mined for laughs.

And yes, some of these people exist. I've met them. I'm related to a few.

But surely we're allowed to be ordinary too?

And that got me thinking. If Hollywood keeps recycling familiar Indian stereotypes, are our own comedians doing something similar, only with more culturally appropriate packaging?

Which brings me to Zarna Garg.

I watched the Indian-American comedian perform live in Dubai recently, and here's the thing: I laughed a lot.

Garg is funny. Properly funny. Her comic timing is terrific, and her observations about Indian families, controlling parents and immigrant life had the audience in splits.

But somewhere between the jokes about children being pushed towards medicine and engineering and parents who regard therapy as an unnecessary posh-people indulgence, I wondered whether I'd heard all this before.

You know the routine. Indian parents don't believe in therapy. They believe in producing doctors.

Depressed? That's a rich person's problem. Anxious? Get married. Unhappy at work? At least you have a job.

It's funny because some of it is painfully accurate.

But how many times can we laugh at the same Indian parent joke before clever observation becomes lazy shorthand?

Now, before anyone accuses me of being the humour police, I'm not suggesting Garg should stop joking about Indian families. She's drawing from her own experiences and has every right to do so.

Indian families are gloriously complicated, occasionally unreasonable and often unintentionally hilarious.

Some aunties deserve an entire Netflix special.

But does a stereotype automatically become more interesting because an Indian person delivers the punchline?

I don't think so.

There's something liberating about laughing at ourselves rather than having someone else laugh at us. But authenticity doesn't automatically make every cultural cliché original.

Priyanka Chopra spoke about classmates asking why she didn't sound like Apu, whether she found gold in rivers and whether she travelled to school on elephants.

Imagine being a teenager trying to fit in, only to discover that a cartoon character has become your unofficial cultural ambassador.

That's what happens when a caricature becomes the reference point for an entire community.

And that's precisely why I find the endless recycling of Indian stereotypes so tiresome.

I enjoyed Garg's show. I laughed, admired her confidence and appreciated her comic timing. But I left wanting more than another reminder that Indian mothers are controlling and fathers want doctors in the family.

We've heard that one. Several hundred times.

I don't want Indian comedy sanitised into a politically correct exercise. God forbid we lose the interfering aunties, ambitious fathers and mothers who consider a humanities degree a family emergency.

But surely we can find something new to laugh about. Our contradictions, our hypocrisies, our obsession with appearances and our peculiar relationship with money and success. There's an entire universe of Indian experiences beyond controlling mothers and matrimonial negotiations.

Which brings me back to Apu.

I understand why Sunil Malhotra wants to reclaim the character. But I still can't understand Hollywood's obsession with resurrecting him. Why spend so much energy trying to make an old stereotype acceptable when there's an entire generation of Indian stories waiting to be told?

And the irony isn't lost on me. While Hollywood is trying to reinvent Apu, some of our own comedians are still making a living out of the very clichés we've spent years complaining about.

Don't get me wrong. I love a good Indian joke. I'll happily laugh at my obsession with gold, our interfering aunties and parents who consider an engineering degree a birthright.

But surely we have more to offer than the same predictable punchlines.

We've fought hard to be seen as more than a caricature. Now that we're finally telling our own stories, why are we so determined to keep playing the same characters?

After all, did we really need another Apu?