Tears Of an Auguste.

 On an OFF-Performance day a marginal crowd would assemble only to enjoy the brawl of fellow performer’s or to add spice to a new scandal. But it’s not very common on a day where people tend to stay in their cots for as long as they can allow themselves, to gather in and around my tent when no titillating occurrence was doing its rounds. The gathering was growing even more chaotic by the minute and this muddle was irking me to the brink of violent vilification.

My name is Sebastian! It was a name given to me not by my parents but the orphanage which raised me. I had learnt the meaning of the word ‘bastard’ at a time when kids of my age cried because their parents wouldn’t buy them the latest action hero toy! We did play with toys, the ones donated by generous grownups who had lost their importance or the one’s which were left over post the yard-sale and a few which were just extra allotments in the attic of a family. We all managed to have our favorite toys, but could never go off to sleep holding them in our tiny arms! We shared…everything, the question of like or consent wasn’t consequential. I had a favorite toy… A Clown, it was my favorite cause I could spend a long time without anyone else demanding his/her time with it. The kids were scared of its red hair and big shoes. Blobber’s white face brightened into a smile of stretched faded redness. As time progressed, my bond with Blobber grew stronger. He had become more than just a friend; an accomplice to my innocent pranks, a silent listener to all my tears and a proud face praise the woven dreams of my ever changing ambitions!

 The night I escaped, I took Blobber with me. The pain and excess bleeding had paralyzed me, but somehow I had a drop of energy left in me to disappear. More than the occurrence, the shame that killed my innocence inside kept me awake for countless nights. Child labor is a crime by modern age morality, and abuse is punishable by law! I wish I knew these facts in the age where It could have helped me. I ran.. as hard, as fast and as far.. as I could! People say time is a great healer, I prayed to know if my entire life was the duration to ease this unease.

 From a delivery boy to countless odd jobs, the journey to my present profession has been an amalgamation of experiences and a latent zeal to perform. Unlike kids of my age who would wet their hair to resemble the machismo of the genre of Steve McQueen or Gregory Peck, the lonely smile of Stan Laurel always captured my imagination. In more ways than one I believed I could relate to this gentleman. Thoughts of his life and the pain he endured on-screen to evoke laughter in the audiences induced in me a belief that I was just another shade of him.

I was an actor, not in a theatrical group…but in a much bigger Hippodrome track , known to all as Circus! May be it was the gypsy spirit to run away , or the magnitude of Laurel’s resemblance or chance; or may be the summation of all of it, but I had now entered the doors to a new life and episode!

 It wasn't the best or the biggest but I was part of it. I still don’t know whether my baggy plaids accented with colorful polka dots and loud stripes or the boast wide-collared shirts, long neckties, unruly colored wigs and over sized noses and shoes; or the pies in the face, the water squirts, the knock downs on my backside or the accidental seat on wet paint, or ripping off my pants caused the laughter! Life and people had a good laugh at my despondent elan, but why should I complain! The former is the reason of existence and the later the tool!

Life traveled to diff. parts of the world bringing in new acts, colors and faces who laughed, yet the melancholy remained the same! Though an old Trouper, the ever changing roster of new faces detained chances of any strong bond of friendship. The circus animals, were dearer to me, so most of my free time would be dedicated to their care and grooming. Though there wasn’t an extra payment for it, I didn’t care! My life was aimless and the reverie of family never struck a cord, I was just happy to be with old Blobber and these new animals.

 This fall we were performing in Barnstable County. Amid the new inductees, was a young beautiful Russian acrobat, Isakova. There were beautiful women and then there was her. Young, spirited and a brilliant performer. With time she had become the star of the show and a material for conspiracy amongst her female counterparts. The men fantasized her and the crowd loved her. May be it was her love for animals or the loneliness of a dark past or a never said ordeal of emotions, that had struck a companionship between us! For the first time in my life I had something beautiful. As time passed, our friendship grew stronger, and peering eyes turned greener! Every minute spent was beautiful, I was never happier!

 After a spectacular Charivari, I returned to my tent. I was used to seeing her waiting for me, and it had become a habit. But tonight she wasn’t there. An inquisitive curiosity followed the casual surprise. I wondered if she could be in her tent or the green room. So I ventured in my stage costume to find her innocent absence. She wasn’t in her room, neither the changing area. My impatience had grown to an fretful unease. But life had a diff. story to unfold tonight.

 On my way back to my tent, the flickering of the incandescent bulb in the manager’s tent caught my attention. On some other night I might have just passed by, but something in me made my steps follow the source. As I neared, the shadow of two people caught in an act of intimate proximity shimmered through the thin canvas. It was her. The nakedness of her body engulfed in another man’s lascivious arms plagued me. I stood there motionless! I gasped to scream, but no noise would come out. Tears smudged my makeup and the coldness in my heart impugned this visual. I ran away, before she put her clothes on.

She had never said anything to express a romantic fervour, maybe it was just a fragment of my imagination! But tonight I felt the same aspersion that had killed my childhood… forever. While the animals rested in their confinements and my co-performers indulged in merry making and drinking…I returned to my lonely tent, where Old Blobber waited!

 It was unusual; I was standing in the crowd and I could see myself in the bed. I had turned blue. The line of white froth had dried up and vilified my makeup of Laugh lines! I couldn’t recognize myself. People grew frantic and a few in the crowd had broken into tears as I saw myself being carried away in a stretcher in an ambulance!

 I saw Isakova watching the ambulance pass out of sight from the kerb of a tent. Her eye’s were moist!

Note: All characters and incidents in the plot are fictional. Any resemblance to any person living or dead or to any situation in the past, present or future tense is purely coincidental!