There is something peculiar about going to interview someone known as India’s ‘original Bakra’ and who is also a super celebrity. But when you walk into Cyrus Broacha’s posh south Mumbai flat, there are no celebrity airs and graces on view.

Broacha’s mother, a warm Parsi woman with curlers in her hair, walks me into the living room which is cluttered with books, photographs and artworks. Sprawled on the sofa, his seven-year-old son Mikhail is watching cricket on television. Then Broacha, 38, walks in, dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a red T-shirt, his crumpled hair telling you that he has just interrupted siesta to meet you and talk about his recently published book Karl, Aaj Aur Kal.

“It’s not my fault,” says India’s best known funny man, “It’s completely Random House’s fault. Worse, they now want me to write a second book. I don’t know what’s wrong with them. Let’s hope they get it sorted out.”

The television is blaring away and Broacha tells his son to lower the volume. Mikhail throws his dad a bemused look and switches the TV off, while Ruffo, their German Shephard dog, sizes me up and walks away disinterestedly.

The talk turns to Broacha’s writing once more.

He is not new to writing, he says. For more than a decade now he has been writing columns for newspapers such as Mid Day, Deccan Chronicle, Asian Age, The Times of India and DNA.

So was writing a book the obvious next step? “A lot of people have asked me in the past why I don’t consider writing a book. I have always explained to them that I have the attention span of a young monkey,” he says nonchalantly. “So I never took it seriously. Like marriage there is a lot of commitment involved in writing, unlike a one-night-stand, which I am more comfortable with,” says the man who has been married for more than a decade now.

Broacha’s book traces the lives of two best friends, Karl and Kunal, and gives a witty and tongue-in-cheek account of how they make it big in tinseltown. It’s not difficult to guess that Karl and Kunal are a straight lift from his own life. If Karl is a lot like Cyrus — goofy, boyish, witty — Kunal’s character resembles that of his best friend, actor and writer Kunal Vijaykar. “I just copied stuff from everyone else and before I knew it, I had written a book,” he jokes.

Broacha would have us believe that the publisher trapped him into writing the book. He describes how Chiki Sarkar, editor-in-chief, Random House, India, stormed into his house on her way to New York one evening to convince him to write a book. “We sat down to talk and before I knew it, a contract was sent across,” he says with mock grief.

His book has received some positive reviews. And it has got a good response from the public as well. “Some techie guys told me that they bought this cheap book from an airport store while waiting for a delayed flight and had a good laugh,” he says.

The second book is not going to be a sequel. If given a choice, Broacha would like to write a guidebook for foreigners on what to expect when travelling to India such as the possible violation of one’s privacy, dirt, or how Indians treat foreign women. “It’s not necessarily negative, but just explaining the cultural difference,” he says.

Cyrus Broacha became a household name long before he turned writer. He got a job with Channel V when it was about to be launched in India and was sent to Hong Kong for training. With the launch getting delayed, Broacha got bored, quit, and came back to Mumbai to pursue theatre, advertising and radio. Then MTV contacted him and the rest, as they say, is history.

After he burst onto the MTV screen in 1995, his rise has been no less than meteoric. His comic acts in shows like Bakra and Fully Faltoo were a laugh riot and they earned him a huge following. He became India’s numero uno comedian, and he has not looked back since.

Today, Broacha is a busy man. His comic act Cyrusitis — the One and a Half Man Show with friend Kunal Vijaykar ran to packed houses in Mumbai last month. He is soon going to launch the Hindi version of his popular show The Week that Wasn’t that has been running on the news channel CNN IBN for the past three years. Talks are also on for a new series of Bakra shows with MTV.

He is also slated to be part of the IPL 3 show where he is supposed to do his own brand of cricket commentary.

Though his fame takes him far and wide, Broacha says that he is a real home body. He loves his pad and hates venturing out. “I get depressed before travelling. I have no sense of adventure,” he admits. “But thanks to my wife, I have become more adventurous now,” he says with a look of gratitude towards Ayesha Broacha who is a photographer-cum-painter.

“I am actually a boring person, I like my routine and don’t like to change anything,” he says. Ask him how he manages to be boring and cheeky at the same time and he retorts. “I love people but I wouldn’t like to be a celebrity who attends boring parties.”

At this moment, his three-year-old daughter Maya walks in after her nap. Broacha entertains her for half a minute, making funny gestures before she runs away to her mother. He declares that he is not happy that he has to pay thousands of rupees as her playschool fees when all it teaches is only how to clap hands. “They don’t even want to clap hands,” he gesticulates.

In between his comic acts, Broacha has found time to get a taste of Bollywood as well. (His first brush with tinseltown was when he was 14 years old and he acted with Naseeruddin Shah and Archana Puran Singh in the film Jalwa). Last year he shared screen space with Soha Ali Khan and Boman Irani in the film 99. They pamper you in Bollywood, Broacha says. “We used to walk into sets, order our lunch — it was fun.” And it was a stark contrast from what he was used to in television. “There is no star culture in TV. You fly economy, stay in cheap hotels and you are not spoiled like stars.”

His next movie, Mumbai Chakachak, with Rahul Bose, is awaiting release. “As long as there are small budget multiplex films being made there will be work for us. But I don’t see anything for myself in big starcast films,” he says.

In an age of twittering celebs, Broacha stands out as an exception to the rule. He doesn’t own a cell phone, rarely checks his emails and is not part of any social networking sites. “I am a pseudo-leftist, I reject a lot of things,” he confesses.

I ask him about his passion. “Cricket,” he replies immediately. “There is not enough free time for me to watch cricket. I would love to lead the life of legendary cricketer Vivian Richards for a day,” he adds as he mimics his favourite cricketer for the next few minutes with that pronounced West Indian baritone. “As a kid, I used to walk like him,” he says proudly.

He has a bone to pick with politicians. “It’s sad that I have to explain to my kids why a city like Mumbai came to standstill recently for reasons which are ridiculous. This is the city for finance. We are losing out to other metros,” he says with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

The sun is about to set and I take leave of the Broacha household. He walks me out, holds the door of the lift and then looks down from his fourth floor flat while I try to navigate my way through the maze of houses. “Take a right,” he yells helpfully.

That’s what Cyrus Broacha is — wildly funny, but eminently normal like the guy next door.