Clown

Wearing olive green dress, DMS boots, three stars on my shoulder, near my heart Indian Army, I’m an army officer, “Can I have a horse?”, I don’t  need a horse, “Hey clown, can I have a horse?”, this time fighting hard with my vision, breaking it and bringing me back to reality, “Sure ado do, little ma’am” as I speak, I stretch out a long balloon out of my sack, blowing it and making the girl smile while I carve it into a yellow horse. “That will be 5 Rupees, Princes” as I give her the balloon horse, ”I don’t have any money” she said making a sad face, “hey, no saddie saddie, look I will give you money, you then give it to me, okay?” as she nods her head, I start with the oldest textbook –coin-appearing from the ear-magic trick, she happily pulled a smile and handed me the coin, its amazing how selfless children are, as she leaves I turn back to my boring seat, the manager of the mall passes by shouting, “Hey, Kartik, you clown, you  are supposed to juggle, man or no man, that’s what I pay you for”, I stand up and turn to my bottles,  while juggling I see that same little girl walking towards me with a big girl, I see that girl through the dancing bottles, *Flashback*,  that girl, not just a girl, once the angel to my dreams, the same beautiful, shining mice-like eyes, sophisticated hair, simplicity, that tom boy walk, same stiletto love and the cheeks- fluffy ones. Like a desert in my throat, I am nervous, to face her, to confront her questions, to confront every bodies question. I was shaking, she came near me and said “ I believe you gave my niece that balloon for free, I would like to pay for it, so tell me how much it costs” she completed her sentence staring at the little girl, me- I was looking at those lips- moving red blood lips , when I realize I have to answer, “that will be only rupees 5 miss”. She handed me the money, I bowed in thank you. She did not recognize me, she did not recognize her friend Kartik who left his house 7years back. Deep in my thoughts, fighting with them, maybe its because of the makeup, or maybe I have grown- embarrassing the joker inside me watching her sitting at the coffee table with a guy and her niece. A tear rolled out of my eyes thinking who the clown is, present one or the past one-who was friends with her. I broke down into tears, shattered- started crying- the passing by kids of Bangalore are laughing- laughing at the shame- laughing at the tears- tears- the tears of a clown, which clown even I don’t know