MY NOSE IS BLOGGED: The Serious Business of Clowning

Oh those clowns just can't keep their red noses of the news these days! Here they are again in today's Deccan Herald. Of course the DH has gone and got totally confused and actually captioned the picture wrong. Nazu and Severine indeed! That's clearly a picture of Glad and Miss Rose.

Glad, you ask? Short for Gladys? No, not at all. That's Gladys' twin brother, Glad. He visits us infrequently, being quite a shy soft-spoken boy. In fact, he only seems to find his voice when Gladys loses hers. (Refer to Gladys' history with pharyngitis for more details).

MY NOSE IS BLOGGED: Clowning Those Ills Away

Found an article written by Archana Rai for Livemint.com, all about Docteur Clown India.
Click here to read it.
Incidentally, Archana and I were school friends! Some of you will know her - as Archie!

MY NOSE IS BLOGGED: Gladys in the news

Click on the scan to view an enlarged version of this article that just came out in the Oct 31- Nov 13 issue of Time Out Bengaluru, a local fortnightly magazine. The article's been very well written by Akhila (good writing style, thorough, concise and interesting - well, she's a fellow Cottonian, after all!) and photographed by a rather gorgeous young man named Aashith (which might explain Gladys' adoring expression). I must add, however: although I can't honestly confirm that I DON'T have multiple personalities, I can say with conviction that Gladys isn't one of them!

Return of the Living Clown.

Yes, Gladys is back from limbo! In addition to moving back to my own home yesterday (I spent the past three months at my parents' house when my dad was diagnosed with bladder cancer) I also started clowning again this morning.

It was a lot like old times - Gladys and Mamu at St. Philomena's. Mamu's been going regularly and has added lots to his repertoire - magic tricks, new dances and jokes - and also rattles on quite admirably in Tamil! (Kishore is actually a North Indian - Sindhi).

Gladys has been through some changes (I hope for the better) and is quieter this time around. She also wears less make-up and looks, well, though I say it myself, incredibly sweet. She is also clearly a little girl. Six years old, in fact, as she informed one of the patients.

I suppose this means I have put my inner child to work. Is this child labour?? Oh dear. I won't tell if you won't!

Gladys goes on a manhunt.

Gladys has a thing for older men, she says. So naturally, she was looking forward to meeting some eligible octogenarians this evening. All dressed up and someplace to go - the place in question being The Little Sisters' of the Poor Home for the Aged. It was party time! Birthday party, with cake, candles and prezzies, and eighteen residents seated up front as guests of honour - these were the people whose birthdays come up this month. There was also one lady, Marjorie, 95, celebrating her 25th year at the Home!

Gladys, Put-put and Bindas were just in time for the birthday song and cake-cutting. Gladys wasted not much time getting acquainted with the gentlemen, who were, oddly enough, quite shy. But Gladys tells me that's just how it is with strong beautiful women .. apparently it scares the boys.

Mr. Gorman's knees weren't up to dancing (or so he said). Mr Watt and Mr. Gomes did have a lovely chat with Gladys but remained firmly seated. (Gladys says she thinks they were playing hard-to-get). Mr. Selvaraj was busy with a nap, though he did wake up later to graciously receive a farewell rose from her. Still, one courageous chap Raymond did get up and waltz a bit with old Gladys. Made her day. I think he must have been quite a dancer in his day, because he actually managed to follow some of Gladys' more bizarre dance moves. Put-put meanwhile decided to pull up the ladies for some dancing (they seemed a bit more energetic) and even found a Dancing Queen! (And yes, her name really is Queenie).

Bindas, who's just finished the Dr Clown workshop and is still in training, was a bit shy. But she has connections. She brought Spiderman AND Batman with her. They were a lot shorter than Gladys expected - they could have passed for 6-year-olds. Odd, that.

Well, the fun went on through cake and tea-time, as the clowns introduced themselves to well over a hundred startled people. Gladys was reminded of my childhood pictures, where my sister and I often appeared in matching outfits. (God, she must have hated that .. she was seven years older than I was. Oh. Actually she's STILL seven years older. But I digress). Back to why Gladys was reminded: looking after all these lovely ladies and gallant gentlemen was a huge family of SISTERS. It was quite remarkable, Gladys thought, and very sweet that they all liked to dress in identical clothes. And looking after all the sisters was a mummy. Gladys wondered why they called her "Ma Mere" .. really, none of them looked French. And mummy spoke with an American accent. Hmm.

In addition to all these, was a gaggle of highly excitable, giggly and occasionally hysterical girls. Gladys insists that these creatures are known as The Pestilence. (Upon checking later with Ma Mere, it was revealed that they are, in fact, the postulants. Whatever that means.)

Bubbles, music, song, dance, and much laughter. And then, too soon, it was over. The gentlemen quickly made their escape while Gladys was distracted by yet another pair of sisters - Isabel and Noreen Russell - who WEREN'T dressed in identical clothes. A last dose of bubbles got Isabel a-singing "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles" accompanied by Gladys' rather frightful rendition on the melodica. The evening ended with Gladys promising to practise more songs and come back soon for a singalong.

Back home, and I am exhausted, even though I did very little all evening. Really, it was all Gladys. Now there are clown clothes strewn all over my apartment (she's such a slob and leaves all the tidying and laundry to me) and of course, Gladys is nowhere to be seen. But maybe I'll excuse her just this once, because, let's give her credit, she did put in a lot of sweat and soul into this evening. Judging from all the smiling, laughing faces I saw waving back at Gladys as we drove away, it was worth it.

gLAdYs At tHe TuESday mAtiNEe

And off to the circus it was today! Front row seats to start with and lunch with a clown and two trapeze artists to finish it off. Inbetween I got to see a never-ending stream of circus acts--it started with the trapeze, then went on to balancing acts on a steel rod, tightrope, trick skaters, a "boneless" lady contortionist, daredevil motorbikers (one of whom turned out to be a woman)-- actually there were quite a few daredevil stunts, my heart was in my mouth quite often especially during the "ring of death" which was this huge double-ended pendulum like-thing that swirled high in the sky while the circus people strolled upon it most casually. One man even rode a unicycle on it!

There were tumblers who were great, and I thought they would have been even greater if they had clown make-up on--they were both brilliant and funny, well-coordinated and it was clear that they were having fun.

Next a young girl went up on this ring-swing-type-thing (yes, I haven't quite got the technical circus jargon right so you'll be seeing lots of hyphenated words in this post) and did all sorts of gasp-inspiring twirls and balancing feats up in the air, to the Titanic song! (And it was much more interesting and magical to watch than Leonardo and Kate spreading their wings on the tip of the Titanic!)

Then came a doggie troupe - 3 poms, 2 dalmatians and a poodle. They were adorable and were really happy dogs. No animal cruelty there .. their tails just never stopped wagging!!

After the doggies, it was the oddly named Dental Act. I prefer to call it "the teeth-twirlers"! All these women spinning and twirling, suspended in the air, and holding on only with their teeth! (I bet these women's husbands are careful never to go to bed angry .. OUCH).

Trick cyclists, all women, came on and did a bunch of balancing tricks, wheelies, etc. As they rode out, a bareback rider galloped in on a very beautiful horse.

(Incidentally I found out later that there's a circus superstition about the number of animals and this is why the circus has seven horses, seven elephants, etc. I only counted three camels, though. But I guess three is enough. They're pretty bad-tempered. And somewhat malodorous. I wonder if anyone collects all the wonderful elephant/camel/horse manure .. it would be such good fertiliser.)

But I digress. After the horse, an elephant trundled into the ring and performed a puja. Then a Russian woman with a lovely bum did all sorts of spinning and balancing trick with her legs in the air (lying on a platform on her back) then added hula hoops and finally juggling balls. Talk about multi-tasking!

Birds were next! Macaws and cockatoos. Heaven. They were such beautiful birds and so very sweet. (As I was putting Neembu and Maska to bed tonight I promised to tell them all about the bird act tomorrow morning).

Bicep man was next. Well, that's not what he was called but man, what muscles. His arms and shoulders were incredible. He did a whole lot of gymnastics that pretty much explained why he had these incredible muscles - red ribbon wrapped around his wrists and then up into the air to do all sorts of twists and turns entirely on his arms' strength.

There was Chinese plate-spinning by the girls and then the bad-tempered camels did a trot around and some stunts, accompanied by their equally bad-tempered trainer. Every time he whacked them on the backside I was reminded of cops whacking prisoners at a police station with their lathis. This was the only performance for which I could not clap. The dogs, the birds, the elephants even, seemed to be having fun, but the camels were just really pissed off to be there. One of them actually looked quite disdainful. (Disdainful but not miserable, fortunately. I know .. the animal-lovers get into a huff about animal performances at circuses .. but I shall not judge, my favourite man gave me this funda about throwing the first stone, and if I can apply that to child abusers, then I can apply it to circuses).

So away from social issues, and back to the show! A trampoline act, a knife act and a fire-eater (who was accompanied by a rather embarrassed-looking young woman who danced vaguely around while he posed and leapt like a matador and spat huge flames out of his mouth).

Another animal act! An elephant who played cricket. No singles, only sixes. Team India could use this, but I recall noticing some rather massive (and very pendulous) vulva and so I guess SHE wouldn't be eligible for the men's team.

Next she had a snack and a "drink" and did a tipsy thing, before taking a nap in the ring. Another elephant came in to play doctor with her. (Now, now, just because I mentioned the vulva don't go thinking perverse thoughts). He just checked her heart with a giant stethoscope and gave her an injection.

The show ended with more of the tumbling/gymnastic stuff, this time it was people jumping off one end of a see-saw and someone on the other end getting hurtled up into the air (very Loony Tunes, don't you think?!) and into a nice comfy sofa that was balanced on the end of a long rod on someone's shoulders.

And then it was over, just like that. I wish they'd had a ringleader, though--the guy with the top hat--to compere the show; I felt that would have made it nicer, given the whole thing more pizzazz. Instead there was just a voice over a microphone. Also the assistants handling the ropes etc. would have looked nicer if they were in some sort of costume.

And now you must be wondering: what about the clowns? Well, they were in and out throughout the show, and I thought I would put that in a separate post as this one is long enough as it is.

But before I go, I must tell you that I PETTED A HIPPO TODAY! One of the most dangerous animals in the world! But this one was quite benign. Still .. a hippo! After the show, William, one of the clowns, took me round the back, behind the ring and I got to meet Raja the hippo. This too, warrants a separate post. Perhaps a Haiku Noodle, even. So I'll save that for later.

I also met the dogs, a bunch of birdies, and ended my wonderful day at the circus sitting in a tent with William the clown, two trapeze artists (a married couple from Nepal) and a friend of William's who turned out to be an absolute character who regaled us with some rather bizarre ghost stories that centred around the graveyard that just happens to be behind my apartment. And that's yet another post.

But for now, good night. And those of you in Bangalore: GO TO THE CIRCUS! It's on till the 10th of February, shows are at 1, 4 and 7 pm (summer clothing recommended). And at one of these shows, Gladys and Miss Rose will be making a guest appearance. Watch this space!

gLadYs aT tHe ciRcUs

It was like part of a childhood dream come true. There was no sawdust in the ring, just nice red Karnataka dust--but it was a circus ring, a real live circus ring. There were acrobats doing flips on a trampoline, one girl sitting on the handlebars of a bicycle and riding backwards, there were men and women up on the trapeze.

And down in the dust, the nice red dust, Gladys and Miss Rose met the clowns of the Jumbo Russian Circus! We spent two hours with them, telling them about how we work as hospital clowns, we played together, practised together, and had a lot of fun in spite of my pitiful attempts to translate. Quite a complicated procedure all of it went through, really. From French to Franglais to English to Hinglish and finally to Hindi. But as clowns do, we all managed to communicate with each other. And even when we miscommunicated, it was okay. Clowns are cool with mistakes.

There were about eight of them. Three of them were little. They were from all over India - Nepal, Madras, Bombay .. they were Hindu, Muslim, Christian, and one of them was from phoren--"William from Belgium"--we thought he was just joking, as he said this in nothing like a Belgian accent, but it turned out he was the last of a Belgian circus family, and he'd been born and brought up here in India. His wife is Indian and none of his children are in the circus. Not surprisingly, I suppose. Circus people don't look very well off. But they smile a lot.

Some of the clowns were once trapeze artists or acrobats, who turned to clowning as they got older. They were all lovely people and enthusiastic, but very shy. They were amazed at the fact that Severine and I were clowns--"there are no lady clowns in India," we were informed.

There are now! So it looks like Gladys is India's very first home-grown "lady clown". Although to tell the truth, she ain't much of a lady. You should hear the language she uses when children aren't around.

At the end of our session, one of the clowns, Chandrashekhar, rushed off to bring us his photo albums and showed us pictures from his past. There was an amazing old black and white shot of him in white leotards (non-spangly), chest puffed out, good old seventies hair and pencil-thin moustache, from before he became a clown. And his clown pictures! Adorable! He had the most delightful costumes and the most to-die-for spiralled walking stick.

Before we left, the clowns invited us to join them in the ring at one of their shows! Not to do a full performance, but just to go around the ring once when they first come out.

THAT will be the childhood dream come true. Although in the childhood dream I was usually dressed in a spangly dress and standing on one foot atop a trotting horse, or else dressed in spangly tights and flying from a trapeze into the arms of one of the Cimarro brothers.

Ah, the Cimarro brothers .. they were the trapeze artists at Gerry Cottle's Circus, a British circus that I saw in the early seventies. I was nine. They were Italian and unshaven and they wore tights. I do not remember if the tights were spangly. I just remember falling madly in love with both brothers and wanting to run away and join the circus, if only I could remember how to get there. But I could not--remember--and so I did not--run away--and that was that. I still have a thing for Italian men.

Stay tuned for more on the circus ..

Gladys gets to Page 3.

Or maybe it was page 33. Whatever .. she's in the news and is feeling quite smug about it. This pic was taken at the Overseas Women's Foundation's Annual Bazaar on December 1st, 2007, held at the St Mark's Cathedral grounds. Docteur Clown had a table there. Well, half a table. We set up shop with our wonderful 2008 calendar --- a rather delightful work of art, featuring photographs of all of us clowns - and our colourful postcards, as well as a couple of exotic cakes and muffins. We also had MUCH fun painting clown faces on lots of wonderful little children. Unfortunately Dr Crazy, who took pictures of these mini-clowns, has gone away on holiday and so we shall have to wait till she gets back before we can share those pictures with you.

Gladys had a WONDERFUL time. She wore her favourite hat and inbetween painting faces and helping herself to clown cake, she tromped around the bazaar, meeting everyone and making lots of new friends. She also adopted two very nice puppets, a witch who now goes by the name "Mrs. Snape" and a little clown who is yet to be named (you can see him in the picture .. Gladys has him by the neck).

She also got to have a mesmerising conversation with Basava, a large and extremely patient ox who was taking children on cart rides around the cathedral grounds. He was a quiet sort of ox, didn't have much to say, but turned out to be a very good listener.

Yes, it was a good day indeed. A nice nutritious clown lunch of cotton candy and something wonderful called a hog dog (oh dear .. I do hope it was halal) and she even bumped into Santa Claus. Alas, she did not get a chance to sit on Santa's lap (that would have been quite a feat, as he was standing up at the time) but he did promise to send her Professor Snape for Christmas. I do hope Shah Rukh doesn't get to hear about this. He might think she's moving on to greener grounds. Greener .. get it? Slytherin? House colours? Green .. oh, never mind.

Well anyway, I suspect she did this for me, sweet big-hearted Gladys, as she knows how madly in love with Professor Snape I am. Very selfless of her.The highlight of the day was when Dr. Tonsils showed up. Yes! Gladys' daddy! It was his 81st birthday and so all the clowns got together to give him a beautifully tuneless rendition of the "Happy Birthday" song. There was a strange expression on his face while they sang, the harmony and melody drawing crowds of curious onlookers (or perhaps music lovers). It was a combination of pleasure and embarrassment, I thought, but Gladys assures me it was pure unadulterated joy, perhaps on an empty stomach. (He left for lunch soon after).

On went the clowns .. with a short "coffee" break at Koshy's - or as my mother would like to say, "she's just stepped out for a bit of fresh air" .. Gladys and Mrs. Rose took Severine and me over for that much-needed fix of fresh air, and my oh my, aren't those clowns a couple of head-turners.

And then all too soon, the day was over. We didn't manage to sell all our calendars (you have been warned .. I may show up at your doorstep any day now, peddling these wares) but it definitely looked like all the kids there were sold on the clown doctors.

Long time no G.

Ooh, it feels good to be back! Yesterday I finally started clowning again. Mamooo and Gladys did the rounds at Philomena's, there were lots of little girls and boys ranging from 4 to 9 years old or so - Dolly, Pavan, Rita, Prashant, Giri, Akash and one little boy whose name Gladys forgot to ask, mainly because he had a bar of Cadbury's in his shirt pocket so she kept calling him Chocolate Boy and pretending to steal his candy - and we succeeded in getting loads of giggles from them all. Mamu's fart-balloon was a huge success.

My crotchety old cleaning lady was very happy to see us again, although she chased us out of one room where she had just mopped the floor. She talks to Gladys a lot. As Gladys does not speak any Tamil, these conversations are always quite intriguing. Most of the time Gladys assumes that she is asking for a dance, so usually replies by trying to sweep her into a waltz. She was saying something about tomatoes at one point, and indicating Gladys' nose. It must have been some traditional Tamil vegetarian compliment.

We also succeeded in drying some tears, which felt good. The first was Sakshi, a little boy in the ICU, having a drip put in. Screaming his head off. We didn't do much good at first, but then Mamu started singing softly and he actually calmed down. Meanwhile his mummy was getting equally worked up and she dissolved into tears too so Gladys took her off to one side and had a little chat to dry them off.

For me, the best part of the morning - the biggest compliment - was when we were heading back at the end of our rounds, and one of the senior nurses stopped to tell us that Akash, one of the kids we'd seen earlier was crying and would we go back and cheer him up? It really felt good, and meant a lot that she recognised our contribution. He wasn't in pain, just cranky and unhappy with having to use a nebuliser for his wheezing. But it was wonderful to be there and see him soon go from screaming back to his delightfully mischievous giggling.

So - a lovely morning. Exhausting, of course. Two hours of clown energy can be quite draining. So you can imagine how exhausted I am NOW - as I've just got back from a whole day of being Gladys at a Christmas bazaar. And so I'm off to bed and will write about today's adventures tomorrow!

Return of the red-nosed.

At long last .. Gladys has returned from an extremely lengthy tea party with the Queen (she could have pinched an ashtray from Buckingham Palace for me but no, all she did was stick that red nose on and take up where she left off).

The voice is not better, actually - still gives me trouble from time to time and I do need to go on one of those silent treatments again, but I have too much to say! So for now, I'm just carrying on. But I will do my best to keep Gladys from jabbering as much as she usually does. We shall see. She tends to get carried away and forgot all about my poor vocal chords.

But she is all set to start working again and I can't bear to deprive her (and the world) of her delightful presence. So this weekend sees the start of a new assignment. I shall be driving Gladys and Miss Rose down to the paediatric ward of a cancer hospital this Saturday. They are both very excited and a bit nervous too. Clowning in the paediatric ward of a general hospital is one thing, where the faces are different every time you visit. At a cancer hospital, we'll be seeing patients who are in for longer stretches of time. We'll get to know them, and probably love them. And not all of them will make it.

I wonder if clowns cry.

The prodigal clown.

Yes, Gladys is back. (Or will be, soon). Clearly I am not just clown, poet, warrior .. I am also drama queen.

So after all the melodrama and fond farewells to Gladys I have discovered that my vocal chords are going to heal after all, and that with some exercise and self-restraint, I will once again be able to fill the air with that delectably shrill Cockney accent!

For the moment, though, my voice is far from alright, and every phone conversation leaves me feeling as though I have peanuts stuck in my throat. So I still have to be careful, and have to do that silent thing at least two days every week, but at least I know that Gladys will soon be back from having tea with the Queen (which is what I tell anyone who asks where she's disappeared to).

Say Goodbye, Gladys.

This was the code-line, to be used whenever Gladys talked too much, or needed to be informed that it was time to move on to another patient. I'd always tell people that if they got tired of the Gladys act, all they had to do was tell her: "Say goodbye, Gladys!" and that would be the cue - Gladys would obediently say "Goodbye, Gladys!" and then I'd snap out of the Gladys act and go back to being Nazu.

But today it's different. Oddly enough, I'm at a loss for words. In more ways than one. For someone who doesn't usually have a problem writing, I'm having a hard time putting this down. So perhaps let's just say it. Gladys is out.

Well, she'll always be there, wandering around the corridors of my head no doubt. But no more clowning as Gladys, that's what I mean. Long story about damaged vocal chords and I think I already went into that in the last post, so I won't repeat myself. Basically - for the next three to six months, I have to very careful with my voice. I've spent the last week in total silence, visited the doc again today, and now for the next fortnight have permission to speak a few words at a time, "only when absolutely necessary", along with various other instructions, medicines and even a series of calcium injections that my bum will play host to. Ouch. (Those of you who are wondering, no, calcium supplements won't do. I already asked.)

No singing, no wind instruments, no Gladys. At least for the next few months. I would really miss singing my favourite Christmas carols. And I'm already missing my flute. I'm hoping that the flute will be the first thing I'll be allowed to use again, once my vocal chords are sorted out.

But hey! Clowns think positive! And I can look forward to developing a new, silent clown character! There's always hope! Who knows, the new clown may be even funnier than Gladys ever was.

Not too many people will miss my incessant talking. My music teacher Mrs. Thomas told me years ago that I had "verbal diarrhoea". I shall have to inform her that I am now severely constipated. Actually, I won't miss the incessant talking, myself. I think it's a good thing, to have to ration out one's spoken words - perhaps it will make me choose my words better, think before I talk, bring more value to what I have to say. But I will miss Gladys. Just won't be the same without that funny voice and that brilliant wit. She was, pretty much, all voice. So I can't just turn her into a silent clown. There needs to be a new persona for that.

So goodbye, Gladys. And perhaps my next post will say hello to someone new.

Gifts for Gladys.

A dear friend has just come down to visit from London, and she brought me some wonderful gifts for Gladys - red and white striped clown stockings, three glorious (and easily washable) pairs of colourful gloves in pink, yellow and orange (gardening gloves .. who'd have thunk? They're perfect!) and a multi-coloured pair of suspenders.

It was all deliciously exciting (oh yes, she also brought me two packets of an old favourite of mine: Rowntree's Fruit Gums) .. but horribly frustrating to have to react silently!

Talking of silent (talking?), I am in the process of developing a new clown character. I'm hoping that once my voice recovers, Gladys can be revived - perhaps with her Cockney accent intact, but with her pitch more at my normal speaking tone. But just in case - I wouldn't want this problem to resurface and then become chronic, for I do like having a voice - I am also trying to bring someone new to life. This new someone would be male, and silent. Let's see .. will work on costume, look, and of course name, tomorrow.

Shut up, Gladys.

Bad news, I think. Those of you who've had the honour to meet Gladys in person, will know that she talks in a high-pitched Cockney accent. And I've just found out that doing that for 2 or 3 hours at a stretch is not really the greatest thing for my vocal chords.

So here I sit in silence. It started with a little lump in my throat that didn't hurt but wouldn't go away. Finally got the courage to go see a doctor about it. The good news is that I don't have throat cancer. The bad news is that I must have total voice rest for at least a week.

That means no talking. (And those of you who've had the honour to meet ME in person, will know just how hard that is!) It's very strange. Very funny. And very frustrating. It's less than 24 hours since I succumbed to silence, and it is So Damn Difficult.

Plus everyone has started to talk really loud (I'm not deaf, just mute) and also speaking in one-word sentences and waving their arms around with lots of gestures and what appears to be their idea of sign language. I now must carry a note around to remind people that just because I can't talk, doesn't mean they can't use full sentences.

What will happen to Gladys? I don't know. After the swelling's gone down, I'll have to do some speech therapy exercises or something. And then we'll just have to see. Oh, I'd miss Gladys. I don't think she'd like being a mime quite as much.

Where the hell is Gladys?

I have been SO busy of late. And sick too. Not horribly. But as those of you who follow this blog know, a cough, cold or upset stomach is a big no-no on the job, so I haven't been clowning for nearly 3 weeks. I do miss Gladys. But if all goes well, she should be back in action this Tuesday at Philomena's. Must go check all her clothes and props are ready.

Meanwhile, here is a lovely pic from the Alliance show we had in June, it was taken by a young journalist Rajiv Bangera who covered us for a new magazine that should be out in August. I think it is the sweetest picture and it sums up the heart of Gladys and Rose and what they're here for.

Howdy, parrrrrd-ner.

Cheesy, yes. And I know that many people don't appreciate Peter Sellers' The Party. It was actually BANNED in India during the 70s. I've never figured out why. It would be a bit like Britain banning Mr. Bean. I loved The Party, and never quite felt I was laughing "at" Hrundi V. Bakshi, more like "with" him. Besides, he was the nicest character in the film - innocent, self-accepting, playful, heroic, chivalrous, principled.

Ah - a clown!

But people have a hard time accepting clowns, perhaps. Recently, I had a doubly saddening experience when a recovering-alcoholic friend of mine called me up, quite drunk. Not only was I saddened and worried by his falling off the wagon, but then he went on to tell me how worried he was that I had become a clown!

Huh?Apparently my wonderful ability to switch between Nazu and Gladys had him frantically fearing the disappearance of Nazu altogether, leaving the world with Gladys alone. Hmmm. Gladys is lovely but I'm not about to hand over my life to her!

Anyway, I take that as a compliment and affirmation of my acting abilities! But apart from this, he also went on to talk about how clowning was not only harmful (as in the danger of the clown in you taking over a la The Exorcist) but also how humiliating it was.

Of course, he was drunk, so this was coming from a somewhat unclear mind, on top of his own perceptions or projections about what a clown is and does. To me, there's nothing humiliating about being a clown. It's wonderfully freeing, and to me, the most noble profession I could have stumbled across. My plastic red nose shares living quarters with the Rolex my dad bequeathed to me when he retired. And is just as precious.

Perhaps the people who banned The Party had the same perceptions and projections about the character of Hrundi V. Bakshi. Which brings me back to why I've titled this post as I did.

Severine and I are now partners - we signed a contract today and will run the Dr Clown India program together. All voluntary and honorary and all that (as in 'no money') but oh so rewarding and so much fun. I am HUGELY excited about it. And also about having Severine as a partner - she's a wonderful person and a brilliant clown, and I think we complement each other so well, I can't wait to see how we develop Dr Clown. (And if you can't wait either, then keep checking in here to find out how it's going.)

Before the show.

Here are a few pix from rehearsals at the Alliance Francaise before our show.The first pic is of Biclown and Gladys with the little French "pixies" who put on a wonderful acrobatic routine with Fabiola and Miss Rose on The Planet of Acrogaz.

Next we have Mamu looking very happy with his lady friends from the Planet of Fire! Fabiola (the pixies' leader is second from right, and if your eyesight is better than mine, you'd already have noticed Miss Rose peeking in from behind.Finally Miss Rose in one of her delightful specially tailored outfits (Calvin Klown, I think) with Eric, director of Alliance, a man who appears to be a sedate professional here, but later turned into an hilarious Crowd Checker at the show, armed with his feather duster to dust the heads of people in the audience (and Gladys, much to her surprise!) after zooming around the stage and ramps on his bicycle and honking a wonderful bulb horn!

I must get me one of those horns. They take me back to my childhood when every self-respecting auto rickshaw was equipped with one. Nowadays all the autos have those irritating hi-tech buttons that go "nyeet-nyeet-nyeet", and I do so miss the mellow "pwarrrrmp" of those old bulb horns.

Gladys goes to Alcatraz.

Or so she thought. There she was, clowning merrily, when suddenly a stern security guard informed her that she was wanted in the Administration department. Well, the nose was on and there were children present, so I couldn't come to her rescue. So off she went, calling for her lawyer and her mummy, and trying to get "the policeman" to handcuff her. Needless to say, the children and other patients found all this quite funny.

Finally, in the administration dept, the nose came off and all was revealed. It was a simple case of miscommunication, or in this case, no communication. The ward sister hadn't been informed about Dr Clown's visits, so when she saw Gladys and Mamu clomping happily down her corridors, she must have thought, "Who on earth are these two clowns?" (literally!) and called Security!

All sorted out amicably, once we explained that we had the approval of both the hospital director and the head of paediatrics. There were a few extra journeys up and down because the Security guy's colleagues hadn't been updated and so they refused to let the clowns back in to the wards! Gladys being a lady of some leisure waited and blew bubbles while Mamu chivalrously made these perilous trips back and forth to prove their innocence.

Eventually got back in, and the whole funny little mishap ended up making us all good buddies. Unfortunately we've not had the opportunity to go clowning there since (do hope they don't think we're sulking or scared of), as one week Mamu had a cold, one week we were tied up with rehearsals for our show, and then last week I had a bad stomach. (We don't go clowning if we have any such illnesses, so that there is no risk of passing infections to sick children whose resistance is already compromised).

But joy! Tomorrow is Tuesday, Mamu and Gladys both seem to be fine, and we shall head for St Phil's at 10.30 a.m. inshallah! Stay tuned .. though I really should write about the show first. Major clown backlog. But my Filofax will keep me on track ..

Over-awed by her beauty, Mamoo forgets how to take decent photographs.

Gladys is most upset. Mamoo's brave attempts to photograph her are shaky, to say the least. Seen (I use the term loosely) here, is Gladys with Prashant and Ashwita - brother and sister if I remember correctly. Fortunately my memory is not as blurry as these pictures, so I can tell you that in the first, Prashant and Gladys have struck "Don" poses in honour of Shah Rukh Clown - Gladys' boyfriend .. allegedly .. well, she does have long romantic phone conversations with him on that plastic banana she carries around.

Quite a striking chap, this Shah Rukh Clown. I was initially intrigued by his resemblance to one Shah Rukh KHAN: quite uncanny likeness, apart from the red nose. Gladys says this is because they are distant relatives, cousins of some sort. Apparently this Shah Rukh Khan cannot walk freely down the street for fear of being mobbed by fans of HER Shah Rukh. Poor man. To be nearly as irresistible as Shah Rukh Clown is, it appears, both a gift and a curse.

In the second picture, Gladys is using her stetho-ho-scope to do a laughter check on little Ashwita. Test results showed that the child was hale and ha-ha-hearty.

Have filofax. Will clown.

This is turning out to be serious business. Being a nostalgic type, I decided to go for something sentimental and, being unimpressed by Blackberrys and mutant mobile phones that can do everything except laundry, I decided to get myself Ye Olde Filofax.

The last time I owned a Filofax they were the New, In Thing. And of course, they're now called "organisers" because Filofax is really a brand name. But all those notebook sized ring-binder folders will always be Filofaxes to me. Like Hoovers and Xerox and IBMs. So I'm outdated. Shoot me.

But not this week. My Filofax says I'm too busy. It has been a hectic fortnight, so hectic I haven't time to write about my clowning - which has been going wonderfully. From an interesting episode at St Philomena's to the mad rush of rehearsals for our Docteur Clown show at Alliance Francaise, and the actual show itself. Details - including news reports and some lovely photographs - in posts to come. Watch this space.