Little pearls of dew rest upon the grass around me. As
I lay, the sun played hide-n-seek with the clouds. My friend lay beside, and my
other friend sat cross-legged, munching on her favourite potato chips. Instead
of relaxing, the three of us cribbed about the preceding class session and the
professor, who ensured we had enough work for the weekend.
A song played, and I jumped out of my bed. It was my
alarm bell, and I realised my dream had gotten interrupted. Trying not to be
mad at my fate, I observed the sound outside. No bird was chirping, but bang-whoosh-crackle was heard. It was
Diwali, and bursting crackers has always been the norm. I wanted to go back to
sleep, but the whole house was awake. My parents were having tea, and the
little mosquito in my room was happily flying around me. Instead of whacking it
down, I shooed it away. I joined my parents for tea and the usual morning
talks.
Fast forward...we were ready for breakfast. The noise
of crackers had died down, and I heard a drum being played. Leaving my food at
the table, I rushed to the balcony. To my surprise, I found a middle-aged man
who entertained the audience with his two little monkeys. His audience had
children from the nearby slums and the colony. Another set of audience
consisted of people in their balconies.
He sang songs and the monkeys danced. He had dressed up a monkey in a frock and called her Katrina Kaif. He held rings
and Chota Akshay Kumar (that’s what he called one of his monkeys) jumped
through them. The children were happy and everybody threw notes of 10 rupees. He seemed
satisfied with the money he received on a Diwali morning and gently made his
monkeys sit on the back of his bicycle. As the audience made their way back to
their homes, I knew it was the right time to talk to him. I rushed downstairs
and called out to him. He stopped, looked at me and said, “Madam, you didn’t
give me any money.” As though I was expecting it, I handed over a 10 rupees note.
Looking at the monkeys, I asked, “From when did you start performing with these
monkeys?” He seemed ready to talk, parked his bicycle, sat down on a huge stone
and started, “They are with me since six months, but I have been performing
with monkeys since 8 years.” I sat down on the staircase, knowing I could write
something on this. He continued, “I am from Bihar. My father also performed
with monkeys. I learnt this art from him. But, he was a level higher than me.
He performed acrobats with a group of people. I’d go with him wherever he
performed. On a Diwali like this, he was performing in Patna. The rope he stood
on gave away and he fell to his death. I was 12
and my mother went into shock. She stopped eating and mingling with others.” As
he narrated his story, Chota Akshay Kumar, who seemed interested in his owner’s
story, almost fell down from the cycle. Unhurt, he was helped back to the seat.
The man didn’t lose focus
and continued, “My mother fell ill, and my elder sister started taking care of
her. Finances were a huge problem, and having never attended a school, I
couldn’t find a job in my state. And wasn’t unemployment a huge issue in the
recent elections in Bihar? I shifted to Delhi, hoping to start earning. A
relative suggested riding a cycle rickshaw. I tried it for a few months. But, I
decided I should do what my father taught me, other than the acrobats. I
somehow found two monkeys, trained them and started performing on streets.”
Knowing the issues faced by
street performers, I asked, “Have the police ever asked you to leave?” He
immediately replied, “So many times! If I request them to let me perform, they
tell me to give minimum 100 rupees. I earn only 200 rupees in a day. I send
home some money. What am I left with if I have to pay the police every day?”
There was a pause, as I
nodded. I recollected the newspaper articles I’d read on street performers and
their dying art. I asked, “Do you stay in those slums near the mall?” “Yes”, he
said, “But, we got a notice to vacate the place. The slums will be demolished by
30th November. I have to find a house, but the minimum rent is 600
rupees...not possible! I guess I’ll have to live on the footpath.” His monkey
seemed to understand his despair and patted his back. The gesture amazed me,
and I remembered my friend who believed animals are better at understanding
emotions than humans.
The man stood up, sat on his bicycle and said, “Madam, I’ve
to go. I’ll be performing in Sector 4.” I got up and exclaimed, “You didn’t
tell me your name.” He replied, “Shah Rukh Khan!” with a glint in his eyes.
Seeing my puzzled look, he giggled, “I am not lying. We’re Muslims and from the
family of Khans. You all know Bollywood’s Shah Rukh Khan. I am also an artist
like him. But the main difference between him and me is that he lives in Mannat
and I am preparing to live on the footpath.” I was confused, whether to smile at his witty
comparison, or feel bad for his fate. He pedalled his way towards the main road
and Chota Akshay Kumar looked back at me, as if he was saying good bye.
***
No comments:
Post a Comment