And so it came to pass ..

... like wind after beans. Audition at 10 a.m. Workshop session at 12. Red nose handed to me at 2 pm, March 6th 2007. What a moment. I felt like I'd been awarded the Padma Bhushan.

Driving to the audition that morning, my heart was all a-flutter. I found myself beaming at the road and the traffic, while "I'm going to be a clown!" kept dancing through my head. It was the same feeling I feel when I fall in love. Not that ALL the men I've fallen in love with were clowns. Au contraire. Some of them really didn't put many smiles on my face in the end. But this feeling today was so exhilarating - the feeling before you find out what a creep the man who rocks your boat really is - and even better: no nausea, no letdown, no yeast infections, no lies. (And best of all, it just gets better every day!)

Oh yes. Clowning is way better than falling in love. Clowning is about being true and sincere (well, hospital clowning .. I don't know about circus clowns which is a whole different scene). As a clown, I walk bow-legged because I choose to, not because I have to (oh dear what innuendos). Clowns wear bloomers not g-strings. Clowns are at their sexiest with baggy over (or under) sized clothes. High heels vs. clown shoes - no comparison. Of course, as a clown I do have to wear more make-up than I'm used to. But you can't have it all.

The audition was fun, though I was a bit nervous at first. I whipped out my recorder, fife and a strange instrument called a melodica (distant relative of the accordion) and proceeded to play quite badly. Then I grabbed my balls and showed the lady what I could do with them. Not much. I can juggle three balls but not too well. (Yes I have THREE balls. Multicoloured juggling balls. Actually I have SIX. Another clown vs romance advantage - all the balls you want, and you only play with them when you really want to).

Then I had to do a bit of acting and improvisation, fill out a form, listen, talk, and listen some more, and then on to my first workshop session DOT DOT DOT (yes another uninspiring cliffhanger).

Gladys comes out of the closet.

Gladys has been around for a while. But I like to think that March 6th 2007 is the date when she really came out of the closet, and into polite society.

In a way, Askios was responsible, because it all began when an article about how I started Askios was published in Sattva, an ezine about the development sector. Last month's issue was about Bangalore and as I looked through the pages, I noticed a comment in a photo feature, by someone who was training with Docteur Clown. That's interesting, I thought.No, I lie. I didn't think it was interesting. I went ballistic with joy! Clown. CLOWN. CLOWN!!!! I had to get in!!!

Well, I hate long blog posts that just go on and on, so I'll cut a long story short. Maybe not short. Maybe just less long than it could be. Here goes: I googled and found a recent news article about Docteur Clown in Bangalore. They had just held auditions. I called the lady and was told that training had already begun. Devastation! I tried to draw on all my old advertising skills, and sell myself to her, and must assume that it worked, because eventually she said she'd think about it and that I should call her in two days at 9 a.m.

Oh, the tension. It was worse than waiting for a Saturday-night date to call you on Monday.
I called at 8.55 a.m. I called at 9, 9.10, 9.20 etc etc. and all I got was a ringtone. More devastation. By 2 p.m. I gave up, and reassured myself that she had left her mobile at home (though secretly I worried that she had met another clown) and called again the following morning.

Meet me at 4, she said, and I did. Then waited some more while she finished her accordion class. I am SO glad I am a much calmer human being this decade. The old me would have stormed off in a huff. But the new improved me took the time to enjoy the Alliance Francaise's lovely tea, lovely garden, and not-so-lovely garden benches.

Eventually the lady did show up and we had a nice long talk, at the end of which I discovered that while not yet Clown status, I had at least got myself an audition on the following Tuesday. I promptly rushed home and spent the next few days despairing over my badly-deteriorated juggling skills. I have since decided to blame this on my middle-aged eyesight, which now makes everything close by look blurry.

By Tuesday morning, I had a bag packed with all the things I deemed necessary for the audition. Then, with pounding heart and ridiculously happy smile, I set off .

Not much of a cliffhanger, I realise, but I stop here.

Once Upon Her Face

Once upon her face, there was always a smile. For me, for her other customers, for her husband, for her happy little baby named Khushi. She smiled through the crew cuts I insisted on. She smiled again, broader, when I finally took her advice and let my hair grow. She smiled with me as she let me peep into the facials room, where her baby, breastfed and burped, slept soundly and peacefully through the drone of hairdryers. I don't remember ever seeing her not smile. They all smiled, smiled a lot.

And now father and child are dead. A road accident and they are gone. And she is lying in hospital. I feel hollow inside. I am a queen with words but there are no words for her. Tomorrow I shall visit her and say nothing. No matter how much I speak, I shall say nothing. Tomorrow my words are useless.

I wonder if she will ever smile again.