The Introspective Clown | Aravind Menon

Aravind Menon

The curtain was pulled rather harshly,

And the clown tried putting on a smile,

But it soon turned wry,

And tears rolled down his cheeks.

 

You mean to ask why, right?

For a clown has to always be bright

And that’s all he has to be ;

That’s how it’s been.

 

But this was no ordinary clown;

He had once known the riches;

And was a celebrity in his own right,

But now it had all come to a standstill.

 

Standing amidst a waning gathering ,

He just couldn’t pull off his wits,

And the moment he had greatly feared

Had come by-too fast, too soon.

 

A clown needed a happy audience,

But he couldn’t make one,

Out of the wretched and scoffing faces,

That now stared- too blank, too damp at him.

 

He will now have to hang his boots,

What else would he do now,

For, this was all he knew.

Staring down at that unfamiliar face;

 

Without all that make-up ,

Would be too demanding.

Yet he has to go on,

Trapped in the other man’s body;

And perhaps, he could never get out.

An escape would be easier;

He would just have some pills,

And that would make things easy.

 

But then, he saw something,

Which he had almost missed.

Amidst the crowd, there was face ,

With a rather unnoticeable smile,

With all it’s boyish charm, staring down at him.

 

From the looks , he was too poor,

A deep cut adorned his face;

Perhaps beaten up by his drunkard father,

Who sat right next to him.

 

That’s when he realized,

The world still needed him,

And it would be miserable in his absence.

He must persist;

 

Even if there was none to watch;

He would give the world a few more laughs,

And make it a happier place.

Even if the curtain came down,

 

Amidst the shouts and complaints,

He knew he had come full circle,

But he was happy about it;

For he knew he was right.

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