The spectators are seated to watch the show, restless and excited...
It would begin in no time, tells the mother to the crying child,
And ...you would see the dancing animals and the flying trapeze artists,
The man throwing up balls of fire...
The magician who would cut a woman’s body into two and mend it back...
...And yes my child...there would be a simple but colourful entertainer,
Dressed differently from outside and within...
He ...is different and not in the race with the horses...
He ...is special... and he so cannot be described in verses...
And the child hears the drum beats,
The performers walking in...
Fancy - the dresses, and painted are the faces...
But the clown with the red nose, is what child’s eye catches...
The crowd clapped...
He made faces and laughter spread...
He jumped and fell,
And he yelled with the energy he had...
He was hit by his friend for being foolish, so he cried...
The crowd laughed even when he pretended that he died...
It didn’t matter to him, where the people came from,
It didn’t really matter how old they were...
All that mattered was how many of them burst into laughter...
All that mattered was how many faces were now brighter...
Happy was he to have done well,
Who knows, how happy... how sad?
He is a clown and clowns are meant to be laughing all the time...
He is a clown and clowns are never meant to be sad...
He has to paint his sorrow with the hue of happiness,
He has to wear all the odds and hide his worry...
He cares not of it all and wipes out the world’s cries...
This is all about...A clown’s life...
