The Great Indian Circus

The Great Indian Circus.
What a spectacular show.
People keep staring at me because I happen to be its colourful Joker. I make people laugh and cry, wear clothes of multi colour hues. Red shirt, yellow pyjama. Hatless head, shoveless feet.
I love to stroll along an elephant and mount a horse too. Dugdugi in hand, I play with monkies! Whip in hand, stare a tiger to save the goat, but for how long? What a great spectacular show.
People keep staring at me because I happen to be its colourful joker. A long brush in hand and a riot of colur around.
A village belle bather at the bank of a river and the urban boy on his bicycle passes by whistling at her. Between the village and the city there is a police show hi to maintain peace, and the sound of Om Shanti Om on. The sign of Housefull hangs as the poster of King Shahrukh is stuck on it. Somebody asked me, is it an Indian art exhibition. I said no no, it is the great Indian circus and I happen to be its colourful joker.
And if people think that I am a painter, then to please them I became a painter. After all I am no more than a colourful joker. I keep on changing my costumes. Keep on crossing several cities and several households.
Speak many languages yet I say my tongue is silent. My face wears many masks. And I am impostor? Or attractive seducer? People get charmed by me, years to marry me or love to buy me because the moment, sit on any egg it turns into gold.
Bravo bravo what a unique circus, my great Indian circus where there are elephants, horses, monkeys, goats and tigers together along with men and women, all live under one giant tent. East drink and sleep together. Work hand in hand.
Here, no discrimination between animal and the human being. In terms of monetary value they are one par with each other. the profit they earn equally shared.
You may find a monkey staying in a five star hotel while poor tiger in a Dharam shala, the charity shelter. The goat in a Shaikh Haram and the horse in a garage.
You may think the women in left alone. Never. Never. The man has ever left a woman on her own? No? He did not spare her even though her bed is badly battered.
Now you may call me a joker or painter, an imposter or ringmaster. There I am the unavoidable, unbreakable part of this great Indian circus.
Granted, under our giant tent the population has crossed one billion mark, animals decreasing human multiplying therefore a bit of scuffle, a bit of push and in such a mess I found myself thrown out of the tent.
So far the last three years I have been uprooted. Thank God my roots are strong they fail to snip it but succeed to --- disown me. One day sure my roots will find its own soil. soon.
Please listen. At the moment, drenched in colour I dance in ecstasy, and like a joker at the end of the circus show, I proclaim from the top of the world that the show goes on, millions applaud and the cash rings on and on.