SOCIAL CIRCUS

Do forgive the plagiarism Mr. Azmat but I wonder if even you yourself realize the proximity to reality of this apt term. Well I’m sure you do so hats off to the ingenuity. It wasn’t until last night that the summer extravaganza ( read annual relatives raid) reminded me acutely of an add of lucky Irani circus that I could appreciate your precise designation. There I was in the midst of what seemed like a “maut ka kuan” surrounded by performing monkeys and apes (read your annoying cousins/brats) with everyone putting they’re best social smiles on display that it hit me. Out of the folds of some childhood memory an oddly resonating line “ajj hi waikho lucky irani circus!” The similitude of the two situations hit me like storm. The add showed an ape balancing himself on top of entangled chairs with an applauding crowd at its back. And right here I could swear that brat of a cousin climbing on mums prized dining chairs bore a resemblance impossible to deny. Ah! I knew he looked like someone I knew. The resemblance must be the ultimate proof of Darwin’s theory yet! (Hmm…mental note: Important scientific discovery, must be revealed to the world of science, and I would be hailed as a genius the world over) the applause I receive in my imagination brings a smug smile to my face, immediately rousing the interest of the ever vigilant and acid aunt ( read phapae kutni of the family).
Roused from my contemplation I look at her and Voila! (My mental juices really seem to be at work tonight) I see another extraction from the add. “bachian da paseendeeda show adhay dhar da insan!” and without a doubt there she was half human half hawk. The same devouring look in her eye ready to snap at you at the slightest of mistake. “Whatever are you so happy about?! Considering that you so unreasonably slapped your younger cousin just now I should think you should be ashamed of yourself!” Unreasonable indeed the wretched brat broke my Chanel glasses. “Oh nothing I was just musing about this show”
“Well then I certainly don’t know how you can smile when poor anjali’s step-daughter’s husbands’ aunts’ nieces’ terribly good looking step-son just died”. My obviously grieved cousin indignantly snapped. “Oh don’t worry that actor must have demanded a raise he’ll come back after a few episodes as a long lost identical twin” I reply with a genuine grin. But the wrath of the loyal followers of krish seems to have smelt my mockery. They turn they’re umbrage at me head on. “Oh for god’s sake it might even end this absurdity otherwise I can bet your great grand daughter would be following this same pea brain soap. I should say it should be writ down as an indication of the Day of Judgment: star plus’s satellite would fall!!” by the stare I have a feeling my sense of humor is not my greatest asset just now.
Just at the moment dinner is announced. Phew! That was a close call the indignation among the female clan can slay you in seconds. Quickly I take my seat at the table at a safe distance from star plus community. Ours is a very generous and welcoming society. and graciousness in hosts is unquestionable. The hostess in particular puts herself forward so that her guests can be best catered. a very amiable gesture indeed. It’s just my devilish mind that perceives odd images of the hitherto mentioned add at peculiar moments. the vendors outside the circus tent hailing the customers with all sorts of chants and words. “bhai jan did you try this gosht! You just have to take some it is positively delicious, I made it myself”. “Oh you just have to try these bengans, Fazloo made them yesterday” (read I have to get these bengans finished tonight there is no room in the fridge and there a week old already).
“Off course I wont hear no chotoo, you must eat some… for me”. (Imagine a dragon fluttering her eyelashes)
So on and so forth you feel like you are sitting in raja bazaar with the insistent vendors selling they’re crap to you at horrid prices. They might be the side show but they will get they’re due share of limelight on any cost. Suddenly I’m under fire “so how do you like the stew?”(I’m basically wondering if there is salt in the stew or stew in the salt but I force a smile) “Oh well, I’m not sure if it’s that delicious but well people have always said that I’m an amazing cook. You should have eaten the chicken I made for nikki’s party the other day. I daresay the best I have ever tasted!” Modesty thy name is woman.
The table is being cleared now but the dinner is far from over. The servant brings in a basket of mangoes and receives grunts of approval from the people dining. My absurdly fat 12 year old cousin who was ravenously tearing at the meat stops midway and cries “amma mein aam khaaoon ga”. “Lo mera bacha garmi se kaisa kamzor ho gaya hia”. I quickly look to find any signs of lost weight, but a single glance reassures me that Yokozuna’s successor couldn’t possibly shed an ounce. He picks up the biggest juiciest mango and is immediately challenged by Tachiyama’s follower (read his brother, an equally well fed kid) and before you could say jumping Josephine a fight has begun. The promised kushti of the circus enacted at your doorstep. But I’m not offered the sheer pleasure of observation as I find myself as the centre of a new ring of death (circus da anokha “maut da kuan!”)
“Beta you aren’t taking any mangoes are you unwell?” jerked from my visions I innocently reply “no thank you auntie I’m not very fond of mangoes”. And suddenly I’m sure that when the bomb was dropped at Nagasaki there was just such a moment of horrified silence preceding an equally shocking wave of protest and disbelief. “Not fond of mangoes!” the head of the family almost trembling with fury “well, I haven’t heard such blasphemy in all my life, and mind you I was in the politics blasphemy was all I’ve heard in my life!” “The things girls do these days to stay in shape! They’re blind to the true pleasures of life” Yokozuna’s mother mumbles. Now that line would be enough to keep my mother rambling about the inadequacies of my diet for the rest of the night. So placidly I take the reins “nothing of the sort auntie they’re just too sweet for my taste”. “Goodness gracious have you ever heard such nonsense!” the censorious mood of the entire room suddenly reels my over imaginative mind to work and I could swear I see Britney spears in that tacky red suit sneering at me “oops I did it again!” the sympathetic clowns of the family always understanding the harshness of the world try to rescue me with they’re harmless anecdotes and gags. But in a circus the clowns are never to be taken seriously.
So I’m left with the despair that the damsel in distress is definitely not gonna be rescued tonight. I looked at the different acts of this circus and was left to dereliction that it’s gonna be one long summer. And it was at that very moment that I truly understood Mr. Azmat’s ingenuity. By the way did I tell you I always hated going to the circus?!