Vidur, known as the Notorious Indian Bad Boy, was born in Calcutta and grew up in Delhi. He found a flight out of India was the easiest way to deal with the question of his sexual orientation: “Let’s put aside homosexuality, addressing sexuality in India was impossible when I was growing up in the 70s!” he says. “Apart from not having a gay community in India, I had never even heard the word gay; I had, however, been chased around school by boys yelling ‘Homo oy Homo oy Homo.’”

Growing up, he had such a hard time in school that he even contemplated suicide as a teen. A scholarship took him to an international high school in Wales, and then, as he says, he “set out to fulfill my parents’ dreams” by getting a bachelor’s degree in economics from the London School of Economics and a Ph.D. from the University of Chicago.

“I started coming out in graduate school and then worked as a highly paid executive in corporate America for many years, living a double life of a successful corporate executive during the day and a gay boy on evenings and weekends.”

On stage, he likes to tell about the time he was mistaken for a terrorist: “I was horrified! I said ME a Terrorist!! Helloooo! Well, firstly terrorists don’t say helloooo, but what am I going to do, beg the Al Qaeda to let one Hindu in so I become their fashion police? ‘Lose the white turban Osama!! Labor Day is over!’”

For Indians, generally the H-word is a very hush, hush word, but much to Vidur’s surprise, desi audiences have really responded to his edgy, brash humor: “I find that even desi audiences of older generations are really appreciative. I think the characters I portray and the honesty and vulnerability of my material give them something they can relate to and also challenges them to think about our culture and values.”

He adds, “A lot of my comedy is derived from really painful and emotional experiences, which I have had time to deal with, and find the humor in. These are my experiences and I have the liberty to poke fun and make light of them. I think many comedians develop their sense of humor as a survival mechanism to deal with pain and difficulty.”

Interestingly enough, all four comics are the offspring of typical Asian parents who emphasize education above all else, pressuring them toward prestigious careers. Shazia, growing up in the United Kingdom, faced the triple whammy of being Asian, Muslim and female. Her parents are from Pakistan and she grew up in multicultural Birmingham, with friends from different backgrounds.
She says: “It was tough. I had three brothers who had more freedom than I did. My parents wanted me to be a doctor. I always knew I wanted to be on the stage, but I thought it would never be possible.”

She went to Manchester University to study biochemistry and then got her postgraduate degree at the University of London before becoming a teacher. The outspoken Shazia found the stage to be the perfect place to vent her emotions on everything from religion to terrorism to sex.

How difficult was it being a Muslim woman doing comedy in a post 9/11 world? She says, “There were many tough times. People were scared to laugh at a Muslim woman, people were scared to give me gigs, and I had to do the material that all the white guys were doing, which was not what I wanted to do. But I was determined that nothing was going to stop me. I had faced harsher barriers in my life.”
Shazia has won several awards at comedy festivals in the U.K., performed at the London Palladium and was listed by the Observer among the 50 funniest people in Britain last year. CBS is making a 60-minute documentary about her and she has performed standup in many European countries.

Fellow Muslims, however, have not always found the humor in her performances — to put it mildly. She wrote in an article, “I am maybe the first Muslim woman in comedy and maybe that’s why there is so much controversy, the first person to do anything is going to attract a fuss, had there been a hundred Muslim women in comedy before me there wouldn’t be all this fuss, but I don’t mind taking a bit of criticism if it means that I am going to make a change in society and be a voice for Muslim women.”

Growing up in America in the ‘70s and ‘80s was also hard for Vijai, whose parents migrated from Chennai in the 70’s. Although her father worked for the World Bank in Washington, she remembers her family was often verbally attacked for being Indian.

“My parents discouraged me from speaking out, for fear that a verbal attack would turn into a physical attack,” recalls Vijai. “ So I never spoke up. I would think of thousands of things to say, but I just kept them inside. It wasn’t until I started ‘stand-up’ that I started ‘standing up’ for myself.”
With a father with the World Bank and a mother who teaches Tamil at the State Department, the pressure was on to get a sterling education. Vijai got an honors degree from McGill University in Toronto and a job at The Baltimore Sun, but her yearning to be on stage won out.

The main fodder for her comedy act were dating, sex —or the lack of it — and the culture clashes with parents who were still living in India of the 50’s. She says, “The whole ABCD concept does have basis in fact. It’s tough to be an Indian kid born in America. We aren’t considered Indian by people in India, and we’re not thought of as American by the rest of the U.S. mainstream.”

An A student, Dan was always cracking jokes, when he wasn’t parked in front of a computer. Even while in college, he was already in the IT business, helping IBM launch the IBM PC. Since then he has worked with Intel, done computer consulting, become a touring musician, written songs and played five instruments.

In his career with Intel, he often had to speak on stage before thousands of people, so he decided to take a comedy class to get rid of stage fright. And a new comic was born. Dan can do just about any voice, including Bill Clinton and George Bush. At a show for Intel, he even did Andy Grove, the Chairman of Intel. He’s set to do a show for 4,000 people in San Francisco next. “Comedy is all about doing a lot of shows and the longer you do it, the better you get at it,” he says. “If you perform three times a night you get there three times faster than somebody who performs once a night. New York, of course, is almost like a laboratory for comedy. It’ s ideally designed. You don’t have to drive all over town like you have to in Los Angeles. In New York you can do two three shows a night with a Metro card!”