A romance lost

The Indian circus, once known for its daring feats, is now struggling to keep the show going. And with the latest ban on animal acts, there is little to cheer, writes GAUTAMAN BHASKARAN.

THE CIRCUS has been a fairy tale. It has always had a dash of legend, a bit of myth and a whiff of aura. Together, these pepped up the ring and pumped magic into the top. And with the clash of cymbals, the beat of drums and the blow of trumpets, the circus played, creating memories, sometimes rekindling them.

What has remained deeply etched in our mind's eye is not quite the swing of the acrobats or the jugglery of the tricksters or the laughter of the clowns, but the feats of the animals.

The tiger pawing the ball, the lion roaring through a ring of fire, the horse galloping in an epitome of grace, the elephant balancing itself on its hind legs, and the chimp piloting the train, are images hard to erase, are images that most people seek under tent after tent. This is particularly true when circuses perform in towns and villages where there are no zoos.

But this part of the act - or most scenes from it - is ready for the curtain call. There is a ban now on the exhibition of lions, tigers, panthers, bears and monkeys, though most circuses still have them, of course, tucked away from the light of the arena.

It is widely expected that the other animals too will soon be prevented from putting in an appearance.

A long and determined crusade by Maneka Gandhi and other activists, who argued that circuses ill-treated their animals, subjecting them to great cruelty, led to this ban.

As I walk into Chennai's Rajkamal Circus on a pleasant winter morning, I can hear the roar of a tiger and the growl of a lion. They are perhaps angry and unhappy at having lost the freedom to roam the ring and hold court at least three times in a day. Confined to their cages - certainly it is no substitute for the expanse of a jungle or even the better space provided for in most zoos - these animals will eventually be housed in special enclosures that the Government plans.

The moot point is, will these creatures lead happier lives ? Nobody is sure about this. For, going by what has been happening in some of India's leading zoos (Nandankanan, Hyderabad, Delhi) - where animals have died because of sheer callousness and neglect - they may, for all one knows, be caught virtually between the devil and the deep sea.

Gopalan, the owner of Rajkamal Circus, is quick on the defensive when he tells me that they treat their animals with a lot of love and care. "We may use the stick to instill discipline in them, but don't we do that even to our children to mould them into fine human beings ?"

A better example to stress kindness to the animals came from a trainer, now living in Kerala. He once told me how he had refrained from using his gun during a grave crisis at a show. A sudden power failure provoked the tigers in the ring. "I used all my skills to bring order. I could have easily used my pistol, but I did not. All said and done, one grows fond of one's pets".

But wild animals can seldom be pets, as a circus in Kolkata found out a few weeks ago. It lost one of its girls to a tiger. There have been other instances of such tragedies.

Yet animal acts were never stopped, because every circus believed - and they still do feel the same - that its wildlife was invaluable, and without it much of the attraction would be lost.

Gopalan says that if the animals are gone, the circus is as good as dead. It will then be a matter of months before the big top collapses.

He is not far off the mark. For decades, Indian circuses have relied on their animals, perhaps as an easier way to reach out to the masses.

The 22 big circuses and the innumerable smaller ones made little effort to introduce new feats or improve upon the existing ones. My own impression is that if you have seen one circus, you have seen them all. Most of the acts that one sees today were devised and perfected a long time ago.

Sreedhara Champad, the Kerala based short story writer who studied the circus intimately, once deplored that while India could present about 75 items, Russia could a thousand.

Gopalan, however, disagrees here, and tells me that Rajkamal, for instance, has three original spectacles to offer this season. "Have you ever watched 10 girls ride a single motorcycle ? (I have seen 10 men, if my memory serves me right.) Have you ever found the motorcycle globe in the middle, not at the back, of the ring ? (I do not remember that.) Have you ever witnessed a woman walking on a rope, placed at a height of 100 metres, without even a net below ? (Yes, indeed, though I cannot vouch for the height.)"

Unfortunately, these to me sound like the desperate cry of a sinking man. The circus is struggling, and undoubtedly so, and suffering with it are thousands of those (the figure of circus employees varies from 20,000 to 50,000) who have known no other life than the one under the tent. Some of them were born there. Some found their life mates there. Others have died there, often after a lonely and unhappy existence.

For, they have gone unsung. Nobody knows the name of the lion tamer or, for that matter, of the gymnast or the clown. No awards, no rewards for them.

The money they earn is hardly conducive to the risks they face day after day. Insurance for death or disability is, at best, an apology for the term, and it comes with an unrealistically high premium. One trapeze artiste who has seen 40 summers under the big top whispers, "Let it end with me, I do not want my children to join a circus troupe".

Well, so be it. It is indeed becoming increasingly difficult to find performers, and the traditional Malayalee from Tellicherry who kept the circus flag flying high, is now reluctant to hold the pole. There has been replenishment, so to say, from Nepal, whose poverty has forced many to try and eke out a living in India. The circus has come in handy for them.

But this seems more like a stop-gap arrangement rather than something permanent, and the circus will, in all likelihood, be plagued by even more difficult times

But the circus managements have to take a fair share of the blame for this state of affairs. When television came to India and began beaming the most exotic of displays right inside one's drawing room, tent collections nosedived. This was a signal that circus managements ignored. Or, they were smug in their belief that nothing could touch them.

Maneka Gandhi's campaign proved them wrong.

And, a performance minus the animal antics is not going to take them far, no, not without a concerted bid to inject novelty and imagination into their act. If the laughter of the clown has to have a ring of joy in it, if the juggler has to have more pep in his gimmicks, the circus has to rethink on how best it can recreate a lost romance, a lost glory.

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