Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett, New York: Grove Press, 1954; pp. 60, 210x140mm, ISBN: 9780802144423, $14.00 (paperback).
by Purnima Pradhan
“The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep, somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.”
― Beckett, Waiting for Godot (p. 32)
Waiting for Godot by Samuel Barclay Beckett is the story of two men, Vladimir and Estragon, whose ‘idleness’ takes front seat in the entire story. Nothing happens― according to them― which happens twice, in each of its two acts.
The Theatre of the Absurd is a genre of fiction which aims to express how the existence of every single thing in this universe is just absurd, devoid of meaning like an empty shell; that birth and death and everything else in between are nothing more than random occurrences. Coined by Martin Esslin, it emerged in the late 1950s as a morbid philosophy following WWII. Through works such as Endgame, Krapp’s Last Tape, and Waiting For Godot, Beckett changed the course of this dramatic movement, prompting important discussions, especially on themes such as satire, humour, and power. His ability to combine absurd humour with deep unease, offers readers a powerful yet satirical look at modern existence, man’s search for meaning, and unfair power systems.
The Absurdity of Sarcasm & Humour as a Weapon of Emptiness: When Does Waiting Become Worship?
Waiting for Godot can be considered a good example of satire because it makes a strong ridicule of rigid faith systems, blindly followed superstitions, and the passive acceptance of those who enable such institutions. Each character represents a humorous view of the absurdity of everything man-made and inorganic.
For Vladimir and Estragon, their situation may be clownish, their interactions straight out of slapstick comedy, but an inevitable introspection lies at the end of the play for its readers. The purposeless existence is introspected and discussed. ‘Nothing happens,’ yet by the end of the play, there is an urge, a deep nausea in our chests. Why are we here? What is the point of this? If any?
Their endless waiting is symbolic of the human desire to rely on vague promises of some idea familiar to them, in some form but not quite, some kind of higher power to be put on an unreachable pedestal, whether socially, politically, or religiously. Whether that which is looked up to exists or not is a question for much later, possibly during our last breaths, so it can be forgotten as easily as it was brought up. “Let’s go.” “We can’t.” “Why not?” “We’re waiting for Godot.”(p. 8)
Godot, the main focus of the story, the messiah of hope, the one who is supposed to magically save our two protagonists, as pointed out by Vladimir, actually never shows up in any form. His existence in itself becomes a significant question too hard to ignore. Again, whether one imagines him as God or religion, the state or economic salvation, justice or revolution, Godot never appears, yet the incessant act of waiting structures their whole existence.
Estragon’s tendency for selective memory and Vladimir’s over-definiteness make us realise the silliness of their desires so much more. Man is often self-serving in what he wants to remember; other times, he can be so certain in things he doesn’t know anything about. The fruit of this relentless but inactive hopefulness is despair. It is like chasing an animal that runs faster than you all by yourself without making use of any resources that are available to you.
In situations like these, when the idle act of waiting stretches far beyond its original meaning, it turns from simple idleness into something closer to worship, where the characters seem to have forgotten not just their goal but even the reason for waiting in the first place, the fruition of their ‘hard work’. It becomes just another ritual erased of any potential meaning. There were multiple instances in the story where Estragon and Vladimir did not even remember what they were doing, and throughout the book, there is a constant reminder that any information about the mysterious Godot is unknown to them.
The repetitive dialogues and random actions are funny at first, but slowly turn dry, especially with the repetitive jokes and actions . This forces the reader to sit with the emptiness of the routines and endless hope from the perspective of the characters, analysing every detail in the work to scramble for any leftover value-providing substance. It is where Beckett excels: at satirising the shallow depths of man’s illusory rationale― that he is bound to crave for more and more, regardless of poverty or wealth, not in search of meaning, but of insight. Further, Beckett successfully proves that man clings to the search for meaning, not because he desires some definite purpose for his life and his actions, but out of fear of the idea of not having one.
The absent-mindedness of the protagonists makes them feel stuck, helpless, and unaware, ultimately becoming the cause of their misery; proving to the readers that despair is a direct consequence of our own actions or inaction. Godot, ultimately, without even being real, holds immense power over Estragon and Vladimir, and not without their permission.
The Performance of Power: Pozzo and Lucky
Later in the story, in Act I, two more characters are introduced. Pozzo, a rich merchant, is the symbol of control and authority. On the other hand, his slave, his counterpart, Lucky, symbolises submissiveness.
While the master is talkative and dominant, ordering Lucky around for every task, including dancing or thinking for his entertainment, the servant provides us with a conflicting image of a submissive, close-mouthed man. Pozzo may seem more dominant, but it is Lucky— despite being silent and submissive— who delivers a frantic philosophical speech, suggesting that intelligence isn’t where power lies. His capability as a well-read, educated man, portrayed through his parodies of real world fields such as “Anthropopopometry” rather than anthropometry (study of human measurement) and his references to Berkeleyan philosophy (“since the death of Bishop Berkeley”) (p. 45), bears this out . It is clear that his character embodies the concept of ‘resignation to one’s fate,’ as he has given up. Even when the truth is bitter, and with him being the only person aware of the possibility to escape, he does not run away. Yet, he is not happy in his role. Pozzo, on the other hand, is theatrical and self-important, often talking nonsense with great confidence, which makes the imbalance between power and intellect even more striking. Power-play is thus emphasised along with its radical implications. The servant, though free in mind, is still physically bound by the shackles of servitude.
What is really keeping Lucky tied? Habit? Fear? Hope? The leash becomes a metaphor for internalised control.
In Act I, Pozzo commands Lucky with absolute authority, treating him more like property than a person. Lucky, though clearly intelligent, follows orders with a mechanical, almost broken obedience. But in Act II, the power dynamic shifts. Pozzo is now blind and physically helpless, relying on Lucky to guide him. Yet Lucky, now mute again, offers no real support or protest. The two are bound together by routine and suffering rather than control and submission.
This transformation doesn’t free either of them, but it only deepens the absurdity. Their relationship evolves from a clear hierarchy to a strange co-dependence, where neither truly leads, and both seem stuck in a loop of meaningless roles.
The Audience as the Target
Beckett presents to us a creative expression of theatrical humour as existential satire. It is not a classic comedy, but a tragicomedy, reflecting how people laugh to avoid confronting the big questions of life, such as despair, meaning, and introspection. .
In Beckett’s world, laughter isn’t liberation. It is what is left when liberation becomes optional, a choice to be taken, a decision to be made, but left as a joke because it needs open-mindedness and self-awareness, which his characters mostly lack. He uses slapstick and visual comedy to make us laugh at suffering, then makes us question why we laughed.
In Act I, Estragon metaphorically breaks the fourth wall when he faces the audience and says, “inspiring prospects.” (p. 8) He appears to deny the presence of the people present there, while looking at them but not quite; he doesn’t acknowledge them at all. A question of the audience’s very own existence is put out, and this is made clearer by Vladimir’s response, who exclaims, “people are bloody ignorant apes” ( p. 8).
Several such meta-narrative scenes are present in the book, portraying the audience too as waiting― for meaning, for resolution, for Godot, and for the act to come to an end. The discomfort we feel mirrors the characters’ uncertainty. The spotlight turns on us, metaphorically speaking, because ultimately, it is we who are the subjects of Beckett’s philosophy.
Waiting for Godot uses satire, humour, and power to reveal our dependence on systems, promises, and power structures that give us nothing in return but hope for the future. It is a play where laughter ends with a question mark, waiting becomes surrender, and hope is profitable because it sells.
Perhaps, we are Godot after all, and we are Vladimir and Estragon too. I mean, are we any different from them― performing routines, obeying invisible forces, questioning only to forget what we asked, waiting for answers that never arrive, and never to ourselves anyway?
References
- Beckett, S. (1982). Waiting for Godot. 1st Evergreen ed. Grove Weidenfeld..
- Course Hero. “Author Biography – Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot.” Course Hero. Accessed June 19, 2025.
- Norton, Reading. “Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot Act I, Ctd.” Reading Norton (blog). October 14, 2023.
- Piacentini, G. “Was Beckett a Hoaxer?” Accessed June 19, 2025.
Purnima Pradhan is a postgraduate student of English literature at Miranda House, University of Delhi.
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