KOCHI: Fear dissipates when passion asserts itself. Balancing on a rope high above the ground, she carefully places three cups, saucers, and a spoon on her head. Danger lurks at every step, yet the audience’s thunderous applause gives her courage. And so the lone Malayali artist in Great Bombay Circus, which is currently on at Manappattiparambu in Kochi, continues to refine her art despite the inherent hardship.
“The circus is my family now,” Baby D, a trapeze artist, tells the TNIE.
“It is my comfort zone and a place where I can follow my heart. My passion propels me to continue in this profession.”
Taking a stroll down memory lane, the 24-year-old explains how she became a part of the industry. But the tale is not a rosy one.
“The history of Indian circus is not complete without mentioning Thalassery, which has long been regarded as the hub of circus artists. My tryst with the circus began at the age of three when my parents dropped me off at a circus called Chandrettan’s Circus, which later came to be known as the Grand Circus,” Baby says, gazing at the huge circus tent which has been her home for the past 21 years.
She tries to explain her parents’ decision as one forced by financial difficulties.
“It was not as if I had been placed in a strange atmosphere. Thalassery, my birthplace, has been the hot bed of the Indian circus industry since the 1900s, with nearly every household having a family member placed in one of the many big circus companies owned by Malayalis,” she says.
And how did she become a trapeze artist?
“What could a three-year-old understand about gymnastics? However, at Chandrettan’s Circus, I was trained in various gymnastic routines. Things weren’t easy. I was just a small child. The challenge and the pain were something I didn’t understand,” Baby says.
As she grew, sustained training shaped her up as a trapeze artist.
“I was first trained on the floor, then bars, and finally the rope,” says Baby, adding how she came close to running away from the circus several times because of the harsh physical training.
“My life in the circus robbed me of my family, childhood, and formal education. I can’t read or write. It is something that I’m ashamed and sad about. I can do nothing about it now, but I can see to it that my seven-year-old daughter doesn’t suffer the same fate as mine,” says the young woman who married a fellow artist from Jharkhand.
She not only had to suffer the rigours of the circus but also bear the brunt of the physical abuse meted out by her father.
“Once, in a fit of rage, he burnt all my identification documents. Now, I don’t have any papers to prove my citizenship. And to obtain new ones, I was told that I had to stay at a place for more than six months at a stretch, something my profession doesn’t allow me to do. I can’t afford to sit out since I have to financially support my mother and brother,” says Baby, who earns around Rs 25,000 per month, risking her life on the trapeze.
The allure of the circus industry, she says, has faded in Kerala. “Back then, a majority of the performers too were from Kerala. Over the years, a lack of proper payment and the hardship involved have led Malayalis to quit the scene,” she adds.