The great circus: remembering a dying art
Artistes performing at the Great Royal Circus at Dwarka. Photo: Shiv Kumar Pushpakar | The Hindu
At a mammoth sports complex in Dwarka Sector 10, The Great Royal Circus banner stands out in a way that it is difficult not to notice it. With the pictures of elephants, clowns and performers on the harness emblazoned all across and “well of death” printed in bold letters, passers-by stop to take note.
A decorated tent with three different ticket lines for Rs.300, Rs.200 and Rs.100 stands nearby. A couple of Australian emu, camels, horses and an elephant are tied on the periphery of the tent.
Beautiful girls and boys of similar height, weight and agility perform 35 acts. They dance to classical instrumental music, do some jigs on western tunes, and then execute daring harness acts. They swing and swirl from the top, twist their flexible bodies like melted wax and climb ropes strings performing gravity-defying acts. Boys somersault on high-hanging nets, they pass through a double ring on fire together on either side, a girl balances herself on two small moving flat boards positioned over rolling tumblers, alongside she juggles several coloured balls at a time. The daring stops at the ‘globe motorcycle’ act in which a biker rides on the rim of a ‘tent-well’.
Between the two acts, three clowns intermittently perform funny acts — but all these to almost empty chairs.
There are barely two to five families and a few stray visitors in the huge makeshift hall of 1,800 seats. Though the children seem glued to it, others yawn during the unpalatable repeat clown tricks.
This 105-year-old circus from Maharashtra — a wing of the famous Gemini Circus — has few takers in this age. For the past 10 years, “ever since animals like lions and tigers have been banned from circus, it has only gone from bad to worse,” said Reval Bhatt, the organiser.
He added that most banned animals, who had got used to living with humans, died after they were shifted to different zoos or artificial jungles as “there was no one to take care of them the way they were looked after earlier”.
Yet, the love for this old form of entertainment continues. “I have boys and girls from 15 to 20 countries, including Indonesia, Malaysia and Africa. In India, the staff comprises people from the Northeast, Bihar, West Bengal, Gujarat, Kerala and Mumbai – many of them have been working with the circus for 10 to 50 years. We have travelled almost all over the world, including South East Asia, the Middle East, especially Bahrain and Kuwait,” said Reval.
The staff works in three shifts. The shows take place from 1p.m.-4 p.m, 4p.m.-7 p.m, and 7p.m.-10 p.m. The staff gets a meagre salary of Rs.7000-8000 per month, yet they want to continue here.
Said Hasan Mullah, a drummer and announcer with the circus for five decades: “My whole family has worked for this circus. It is our ancestral work. My father was also a drummer. “We just eke out a living here. The food served is good and there is also medical facility).”
A young Pinky (name changed) resonated the views: “We live like a family here. Even marriages happen among us and we carry the show forward. Because of the kind of performances we do, we exercise, meditate and eat well. We are fit to fight unfavourable situations.”
Hearing Pinky, tears welled up in Reval’s eyes. He then said in a choked voice: “Government must help us to survive and train better. Delhi has an inhospitable government. We spend Rs.1,30,000 per day on this ground. The government in Kerala and Gujarat grant us land on huge concessions. Even the audience buys tickets and encourage the performers. But in Delhi, out of the 10 families that visit us, four come with passes.”
But soon, they get a reason to smile. An 11-year-old Ankit and an 80-year-old Panni Devi, who had just finished watching the circus, said: “Watching artistes perform live is so different from TV reality shows. We loved it.”
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