It is so easy, this mask I wear. It almost feels like second skin now, the photographs from a couple of years back show some stranger who looks like me staring back at me. Where is he now? Why did this happen to me? The answers I seek will forever elude me, I am so sure, but does that mean I stop looking. I know for sure nobody sees the broken heart behind the perpetually painted smile on my face, the face which they see and like, but do not recognize. The antics I carry out with the twisted limbs the moment the blinding bright lights go on, nobody sees the pain I go through, all they see is the clown with a painted smile, the one who scratches his armpits like an ape, the one who rides a unicycle waving his arms like someone drowning in the high seas, the clown who has no other emotions except a grin that was there, come rain or shine.
Life never was a bed of roses, jumping off from the terrace too did not seem too lucrative at the moment. The flyer that came in the newspaper announced vacancies in the circus company, so is it my fault that they found me fit to be a clown? The sentence from the owner was the most saddest of all, “People like you, whose eyes look like wells of sadness can smile only by making others smile.â€
Didn’t I make them smile enough? Getting them to laugh by making fun of myself was never part of the job description. Will there be a day when the two faces need not be kept separate, when I need not hide and run away from who I am?
Preeti read out the passages to an audience that sat dumbstruck, for they obviously had never given a thought to the clown who made them laugh at the circus. Now this little girl, in her neatly plaited pig tails and a brown check skirt made them see the other face of the circus clown, made them realize that there is another identity to those people other than that of the clown, that they too are people with needs, wants, dreams and desires exactly like them.
She did not know the reason why the audience was so enthralled, a few of them wiped a lone tear that escaped their eyes while the rest of them stood up and clapped till she left the stage and occupied her seat with the other students. She decided then and there to thank her father for letting her read out a page from his diary.
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I was as enthralled as Preethi’s audience, Ishi 🙂 Beautiful. Beautiful story!
This reminds me of a thing from Watchmen:
Man goes to doctor. Says he’s depressed. Says life seems harsh and cruel. Says he feels all alone in a threatening world where what lies ahead is vague and uncertain. Doctor says “Treatment is simple. Great clown Pagliacci is in town tonight. Go and see him. That should pick you up.” Man bursts into tears. Says “But, doctor…I am Pagliacci.”
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WOW!
This is first word comes out of my heart reading “CLOWN”..
too good!
Tugged at the heart, Bhavya. How conveniently we forget that a clown is a human being too. I was reminded of the Malayalam movie ” Joker” when I read your post and Leo’s.
And the diary idea was fantastic 🙂
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I was wondering how good it would be if someone wrote C for clown and here you are!! <3 lovely post!
Not just professional clowns, the jovial exteriors of many people hide some deep sadness within.
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Too good, Bhavya !! Beautiful story must say !!!!!!!
Haunting and most beautiful at the same time. You captured a life of so many people in so few words. And the ending … well, I can’t do it justice. 🙂
🙁 Wow! So heartwarming and loved how you played it out to be read by a daughter from her father’s diary!
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when u write ur book, i get the first signed copy ketto 🙂
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Will there be a day when the two faces need not be kept separate, when I need not hide and run away from who I am? …. Don’t we all ask that to ourselves someday or the other …
P.S. About the signed copy…. make sure you sign it for me n Meena at the same time 😀
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How we forget no that a clown is also human…It was wonderfully written…thank you..I loved it!
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Beautiful storytelling Bhavya! I was as engaged as the girl’s audience 🙂
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This is true of so many performers, isn’t it? From all accounts life in a circus is very very hard. You portrayed that so well!
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That’s beautifully captured. I tend to think beyond performers to anyone who is in the public eye and needs to mask their true thoughts and feelings. With elections coming up, I am sure we will see many more campaign masks.
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Amazing Bhavya. … I had to read it again to feel the way I felt..You have a gift lady..keep writing…
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This was brilliantly written and a bit sad that the only smiles he could make were the ones that were painted on. ♥
That was heart breakingly beautiful Bhavya.
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Don’t know why, I thought of Mera Naam Joker – that scene where Raj Kapoor makes everyone cry.
Bhavya…a big hug to you for you know what!
Love, Vidya
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This is so touching…Wonderful.
In one of my previous blogs, I wrote about circus as my childhood crush and expressed my indebtedness to RK for immortalizing clown character. Thanks for the post.
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That’s so true of performers! Your portrayal is heartrending though, made me just as sad as the character. Nicely done.
A daughter reading her dad’s emotional outpourings, unknowingly touching hearts. This is a lovely post, the tears behind the smiles are out in the open here.
woww that’s a beautiful story telling. The masks that we wear… sometimes happy , sometimes sad.
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At times we all do the same thing. We make others smile to bring sunshine in our own life..
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There is something very humane and compassionate about this post, Bhavya! Very well done!
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So true!! We sometimes… well most of the times, forget to look behind the mask a person wears!!
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I think there are actually three sides…they make us laugh, cry and for some scare us too. Beautifully written.
Very touching….beautiful page 🙂
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How, Bhavya? How? How do you manage to make me fall in love everyday with your posts? There is a certain elegance in the way you write that I just can’t describe. Words fail me…
Shailaja
Whoa that was intense
PhenoMenon
http://throodalookingglass.com/2014/04/cuisines-n-cooking/
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wonderfully written.:)
C for Clown.. how thoughtful is that.. a brilliant one on clowns.. sad and deep
Amritt
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Often people who seem to be happy and smile a lot nurse a sad and broken heart.
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Bhavya, a poignant post that touched my heart n made my eyes mist up. I’ve always thought of the sorrowful eyes of Charlie Chaplin
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Bhavya, Ah, I will not lie. Its been a little while since I got back to ishithaa, but when the whole world (or at least on Facebook) recommends your stories, I felt its a sin if I didnt make the time to read it. And it wouls have been one, had I not read this beautiful piece. Kudos