George Carlin had this running gag from the 1980s to the mid-2000s, wherein he would do a kind of satirical rapid-fire delivery (we’re talking rap tempo here) of the dominant ‘buzzwords’ of the era. On 2005’s Life is Worth Losing, he says, “I’m a modern man. A man for the millennium. Digital and smoke free. A diversified, multi-cultural, post-modern deconstructionist. Politically, anatomically and ecologically incorrect. I’ve been up-linked and downloaded. I’ve been inputted and outsourced. I know the upside of downsizing. I know the downside of upgrading.”

Near the midpoint of his latest special Delulu Express (available on Amazon Prime Video), Zakir Khan attempts a similar gag. Eager to impress the HR person taking his in-person job interview, he lets rip in his idea of corporate-speak: “Legacy of great historical organisation, learning together, different verticals, growth, legacy institute organisation learning, together together ROI.” Like always, the Everyman ethos of the joke is enhanced by Khan’s poker-faced earnestness and sheer commitment to the bit.

Even as he has grown to become a more rounded performer, Indore’s favourite son has maintained his enviable grasp on his Hindi-speaking audience’s psyche. Delulu Express is loose and freewheeling, an accomplished raconteur leisurely holding court rather than a lean, tight comedy special.

Using the baggy narrative device of a train journey—the why, the where and the here’s how—Khan piles anecdote upon anecdote, segue upon segue. The freedoms and indignities of a first job, the impromptu connections one makes with fellow travellers, the linguistic and cultural politics negotiated by ‘middle Indians’ working in metro cities—none of this is unfamiliar ground for those who’ve watched Khan’s earlier specials. But Delulu Express grows on you with its easygoing rhythms and Khan’s consistently brilliant performance.

For me personally, the most impressive aspect was Khan’s commentary on the power and the danger associated with the act of storytelling. Think of the ‘teller of tall tales’ in several Indian cultures: Nasreddin Hodja, Tenali Raman, Gonu Jha et al, figures known as much for their artful exaggerations as their wit and wisdom. Two moments in the first 20-odd minutes of Delulu Express are particularly demonstrative stand-outs.

In the first, Khan both celebrates and cautions the audience against a certain kind of exuberant aunt, the one who would cheerfully—and amidst peals of laughter—say the most in-your-face insulting things. “At first I thought you were pregnant but now I see you’ve just been stuffing your face!”—you get the drift.

In the second moment, Khan tears into the delusions (delulu, if you absolutely must) of a hapless engineering student on the train, who is convinced his female classmate is secretly in love with him. Having trashed the poor fellow’s insecurities in front of a group of strangers, Khan muses, “Bhai, thoday varchasv ki shuruaat toh kisi ki laash pe pair rakh ke hi hoti hai (The road to dominance can only be paved with corpses).”

Both of these bits work as straightforward, standalone jokes. But there’s also sly craft-work at play here. There is a considered complication of the relationship between a joke’s subject and its audience. Why do we share a distinctly uneasy laugh regarding the motormouth aunt? Why do we feel like physically shaking the poor engineering student’s wishful thinking out of him? Khan does just enough to let these questions linger in the air without spelling the answers out—an approach that I feel induces introspection more readily than pedantic, prescriptive speech-writing.

“Kiski zindagi hai yeh? Meri toh nahi lag rahi, kasam se (Whose life is this? Because I could’ve sworn it isn’t mine),” Khan says in the middle of a story where he is the beneficiary of successive slices of good luck. The line was met with laughter, as the whole show was, but there was also a kind of persistent murmur afterwards. As though the room had recognised something primal in these words.

The genius of Zakir Khan is that he appeals to the ‘lapsed underdog’, folks who’ve made it through unrelenting will and cussedness of spirit and are now, for the first time, able to see the funny side of it all. As the fictional Zakir tells an attractive psychology major aboard the train, “Psychology mein masters aapne ki hogi lekin iskaa mechanic main hoon (you may have done a masters in psychology, but I’m its mechanic”). He just has a way with the nuts and bolts of human insecurity, and like a good mechanic he’s never squeamish about getting his hands dirty.

Delulu Express isn’t quite as substantial as Khan’s last special Mann Pasand, but it is a solid, enjoyable special. It’s classic Zakir Khan fare, but delivered with the assurance, dexterity and virtuoso skill that can only come with years of experience. Whether you’re an old fan from the Haq Se Single era, or a total Khan newbie, you won’t regret hopping aboard the Delulu Express.