The dark smoke from the colorful candles gushed into my nostrils as I plucked the E-string of the guitar for one last time. Cake smeared on her face as everyone clapped in joy. Happy birthday indeed it was as I saw the newly-weds smile, exchanging the loveliest of split-second glances. And midnight it was, but I sweated profusely. More couples in love meant more dedications and mushy numbers. This meant I’d strum the strings of a half-known, half stranger instrument while sweat trickled down my forehead further down to my cheeks. I’d cover up the end of each of my imperfect melody with a witty comment, or a lousy mimicry of an idiosyncratic actor, making the happy-high crowd chortle. The last beer can would then be crushed, lights put off as I’d pack my guitar cracking one final joke walking out. End of the party.
Next day the clown performs yet again at the post-lunch-pre-nap session at work. Some get the jokes and laugh, while some laugh as there is nothing better to do. It’s the beginning of the week, but the party for the next weekend is already fixed. “You and your guitar are cordially invited. No stag entry” reads the verbal invitation. Crowd disperses to the respective workstations as the clown strolls towards the washroom. “Let’s get the face paint and the red cherry off the nose now.”
A good sense of humour is a certain entry pass to all parties in town. Most jokes work out if the crowd is intelligent, some fall flat but could be ignored or lost in the commotion. But guitar is a serious art isn’t it? “Didn’t you play the same song last time?” and “Why don’t you play what you can?” are the most common words of appreciation. But then as the mercury rises, and empty Budweiser cans stack up, “Play the high pitch…can’t you”, “I will sing”, and “I know a professional guitarist” are more frequently heard. The clown takes it all with a warm toothless smile, for his is a small performance in the greater circus called life.
It’s midnight again and a long walk back home. I switch on the lights as I directly face the mirror, the guitar still tied to my back. I look at the face paint and the guitar…”Which is a tougher art??” Yawn…
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1 comment:
A good read! Beats the conventional scary clown image!
The clown isn't on some fictional stage playing Romeo. Though being fragile, he stays close to the present and lives out his emotions completely. In any setting, a birthday party, a night-out or even a wedding, the clown finds a way to keep the crowd profoundly relieved through laughter and music. The absurd remarks, do not mess with his head, it is a rational form of madness. Being a committed optimist, the clown wins in the end; his inherent logical delirium creates a ‘high’ without necessarily conforming to the norms of beauty, and of self- control.
Cheers !
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