I'd seen the little girl a couple of times before, She must be around 8-10 years of age, always in the same clothes, a green and red dress, accompanied by who I reckon are her brother and mother. Around the narrow lanes of Eejipura they wander, setting up their little make-shift setup for the show.
The setup is simple. A couple of wooden poles are placed a few feet apart, each supported at the base by three small pieces of wood. A rope is firmly tied between the poles and the little one is hoisted up. Slowly and steadily, she gauges herself and makes some adjustments for balance.
With small steps, she starts walking the rope, initially with the help of a horizontal wooden pole in her hands for balance, which she then proceeds to do away with.
The mother of the family slings around her neck, a hollow piece of wood covered by some cheap leather that passes for a drum, and starts off with a song. Passers by stop to check what the commotion is all about.
Soon a small crowd gathers around gaping open-mouthed as the little girl performs her tricks. I wonder what they goes on through their minds. the sight they witness today is by no means uncommon . Yet they gather and stand and gape in what I like to call "stoned" amazement. I guess it's part of all that "diversity and culture" that we boast about and wear on our sleeves and are so proud of as Indians. The little girl , though is unruffled by the crowd; a true professional, she does her act with elegance, poise and precision.
It's then time for the second part of the act. The beat of the drums reaches a feverish pitch. Her brother tosses over a steel plate. One arm out, she catches it. She now balances herself on the steel plate and with short rhythmic movements of her feet, she starts walking the rope on the plate.
On slow days, when the gathering is few, she is made to sport a cheap pair of sunglasses. It works like a charm. Today is one of the bad days. The poles have been just set up by a busy thoroughfare. The girl is hoisted up. She starts to walk. The drums are played with extra vigor. People stop to watch her as she precariously walks forward and back.
And then suddenly it happens. In a split second, the poles give away with a screech. The child loses her balance and lands on the hard asphalt with a thud. The crowd lets out a collective gasp. At first, she doesn't realize what has happened, but as she slowly comes out of the shock, she realizes shes hurting, and starts wailing. Her brother and mother rush to her side. Her brother frantically rubs her forehead, in an effort to alleviate the pain, but the child is inconsolable.
To me, the child's crying seemed to go beyond physical pain. It was as though she was crying out at her existence, and at what she had to do to earn her bread, at time never spent on playing, at time spent walking the streets under the hot sun, at the lack of an opportunity to get an education. The mother tries to hush her up. Experience has taught her that the crowd is not sympathetic of cry-babies, and sympathy doesn't help anyway, not in her line of work.
The crowd is unmoved. People walk on. The circus has come to an end. Not the perfect start to the day, the trio had hoped for , but by the looks of it, this was not something new. They fold up , it's time to move on a few blocks down, put up the poles and go about walking the line one more time.
The setup is simple. A couple of wooden poles are placed a few feet apart, each supported at the base by three small pieces of wood. A rope is firmly tied between the poles and the little one is hoisted up. Slowly and steadily, she gauges herself and makes some adjustments for balance.
With small steps, she starts walking the rope, initially with the help of a horizontal wooden pole in her hands for balance, which she then proceeds to do away with.
The mother of the family slings around her neck, a hollow piece of wood covered by some cheap leather that passes for a drum, and starts off with a song. Passers by stop to check what the commotion is all about.
Soon a small crowd gathers around gaping open-mouthed as the little girl performs her tricks. I wonder what they goes on through their minds. the sight they witness today is by no means uncommon . Yet they gather and stand and gape in what I like to call "stoned" amazement. I guess it's part of all that "diversity and culture" that we boast about and wear on our sleeves and are so proud of as Indians. The little girl , though is unruffled by the crowd; a true professional, she does her act with elegance, poise and precision.
It's then time for the second part of the act. The beat of the drums reaches a feverish pitch. Her brother tosses over a steel plate. One arm out, she catches it. She now balances herself on the steel plate and with short rhythmic movements of her feet, she starts walking the rope on the plate.
On slow days, when the gathering is few, she is made to sport a cheap pair of sunglasses. It works like a charm. Today is one of the bad days. The poles have been just set up by a busy thoroughfare. The girl is hoisted up. She starts to walk. The drums are played with extra vigor. People stop to watch her as she precariously walks forward and back.
And then suddenly it happens. In a split second, the poles give away with a screech. The child loses her balance and lands on the hard asphalt with a thud. The crowd lets out a collective gasp. At first, she doesn't realize what has happened, but as she slowly comes out of the shock, she realizes shes hurting, and starts wailing. Her brother and mother rush to her side. Her brother frantically rubs her forehead, in an effort to alleviate the pain, but the child is inconsolable.
To me, the child's crying seemed to go beyond physical pain. It was as though she was crying out at her existence, and at what she had to do to earn her bread, at time never spent on playing, at time spent walking the streets under the hot sun, at the lack of an opportunity to get an education. The mother tries to hush her up. Experience has taught her that the crowd is not sympathetic of cry-babies, and sympathy doesn't help anyway, not in her line of work.
The crowd is unmoved. People walk on. The circus has come to an end. Not the perfect start to the day, the trio had hoped for , but by the looks of it, this was not something new. They fold up , it's time to move on a few blocks down, put up the poles and go about walking the line one more time.
