Trapeze artists flirt for five before flying mid air. Naga gymnasts contort into hairpins before shedding their gowns. Russian skaters, stars of the show, know they can be fashionably late. The circuswallas of Rambo have pitched their tent in Mumbai all this month. Aastha Atray Banan traded her Rs 100 front-row seat, to slip backstage and watch the circus from the wings
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Gymnast Sapna |
It comes off only when the bell man signals her entry with a loud twang. As she does a handstand on an elevated disk placed on the rotating stage, the green room at Rambo Circus experiences a chaotic moment.
Though the three elephants stand quietly in line with their mahouts, the slightly angry horse is snorting at his trainer. A bevy of young girls dressed in glittering minis, wait patiently for Sapna to finish her act. They are also waiting for the Russians to emerge.
The group of five that includes four skaters and a clown, trots in fashionably late. The printed cotton gowns are missing; just bright yellow and purple leotards and elaborately done-up eyes. The big man, skater Alex Toporova, makes a quip that has all the girls, other than his wife Svetha, laughing hysterically. The six-foot chiseled skater steps on stage, and it's business again.
Backstage, the next act is already getting ready. Even though there are no loudspeakers or walkie-talkies telling the artists they are up next, they somehow, magically appear in line. "It's the music that acts as a cue. They hear the orchestra and memorise the pieces. That's what signals their entry," says Sumit Dilip, member of a team that manages the circus.
The trapeze acrobats are lined up next, dressed in white body suits contrasted by tiny blue briefs much like superheroes. Not a misplaced title for a bunch of guys flinging themselves mid air dare-devilishly. Before they go on stage, they play the role of the Casanova, some of them flirting awkwardly with their female counterparts, who ignore them in manner that's almost regal.
But the next couple to go on stage is getting paid to flirt. They are Mithu and Deepak, the acrobats who perform a duet to Sonu Nigam's hit from Fanaa. Mithu behaves professionally as Deepak helps her with her stretching, sometimes even holding her intimately. But one look at their serious faces, and you know it's only work.
One person conspicuous through his absence is the ringmaster, or boss. "There is no boss here. We are family," says Sujit Dilip, owner of Rambo, a Keralite who takes his Pune circus all around India. "I treat them like friends. I just hope more people came to see the show. All of us ache for the claps and the 'aahs!'," he says.
But he knows that his next act is going to draw just that. The shooters, dressed in hunterwalla gear, and the girls looking like modern versions of fearless Nadia, shine their guns. There are no jokes right now. After all, they have to shoot a balloon placed 500 metres away, by looking at it through a mirror!
As if to break the stillness, the cyclists arrive, smiling, even taking a dig at "boss" Sujit. "If you stand here, how do you expect us to do our best? You are making us nervous," says one cyclist who looks like a prettier version of B-town actress Aarti Chhabria, smiling naughtily under her make-up.
Whether it's the clowns who are up on stage during every act, chewing gum bodied acrobats or the aloof Russians, one thing is clear their happiness doesn't depend on revenue. Even if a handfull grace the plastic chairs that surround the stage, the circuswallas will gear up to give them a time of their life.
aastha.atray@mid-day.com
