It was 1965. I was a wide-eyed third-standard student, and the word “circus” alone was enough to send my imagination somersaulting. My father—then Headmaster of Heroor LP School—and I were invited by my teacher, Abdulla Master, for a once-in-a-lifetime outing: The Great Oriental Circus at Mangalore!
But this wasn’t just any casual ride. We had to walk
three kilometers to Pachambala to catch the grand “Ambassador car” that Abdulla
Master had heroically arranged (a hired car back then was as rare as a tiger on
a scooter). I still remember almost running excitedly, tugging at my
father’s hand, unable to contain my circus fever. We were joined by three of
Abdulla Master’s relatives from the Pachambala shop, making it a well-planned,
mini-circus caravan in itself.
And oh, what a show it was! Acrobats flying, elephants
trumpeting, the smell of popcorn in the air... that memory lodged itself firmly
in my mind for six decades.
Fast forward to April 13, 2025, and the circus came
calling again—Jumbo Circus, to be precise. After a ten-year hiatus, they had
returned to Udupi, pitching their massive tent near Hotel Sharada
International. With over 100 artists, including performers from Tanzania and
Nepal, the show promised 28 thrilling acts. Could anything compare to the magic
of 1965? Curious, I thought of going to the Jumbo Circus.
My wife Shreemathi, brother-in-law Gopikrishna Bhat,
niece Saraswathi, and I decided to relive the excitement. They arrived at our
house by 3:30 PM, and we all piled into the car, excited as kids on a school
picnic.
We reached the venue at 3:40 PM, Gopi bought four tickets (a hefty sum of ₹1,400!), and entered the tent. Gone were the bamboo benches of my childhood—this time we had seats near giant fans blowing full speed, near the circus ring, and we tried to tame Udupi’s rising heat. Gopi, who was the owner of two Bharath Petrol Pumps earlier and a Technical expert in hardware, peered up at the massive tent and, rather ominously, wondered if it could survive a cyclone.
Spoiler alert: Nature decided to test that theory.
Just as we settled in, a sudden gust of wind blew open the entrance like a movie scene, followed by crashing sounds. “Bhago! Bhago!” the attendants shouted. Dust swirled like a Bollywood sandstorm scene. We scrambled out, dodging flying canvas and toppling barricades. Some tent walls near the ticket counter had already collapsed! The usual laughter present at Shreemathi’s face vanished.
We took shelter in the car, drenched in both rain and
adrenaline. After 15 minutes, an
announcement: “Show cancelled for now, but your ticket counterfoils are valid
any day.”
We thought of going to the Diana Hotel. We could come back another day.
Shreemathi remarked.
But wait! Another announcement flashed: “Due
to audience demand, the show will resume. Please re-enter.”
And so, we
re-entered the tent, water still dripping from the seams. The artists began the show. There were no animals
(regulations have changed), but the human talent sparkled—tightrope walkers,
jugglers, gymnasts, and contortionists, all defying gravity and logic, act
after act.
✨ A Moment to Reflect
India’s circus legacy, from the Great Oriental Circus, Apollo, and Kamala, to Jumbo Circus, has long carried magic across generations. But
changing entertainment habits, digital media, and tighter animal welfare laws
have dimmed the spotlight on these once-glorious tents.
Yet these performers—trained for years, dedicated
beyond belief—continue to deliver joy. Their resilience through storms (literal
and metaphorical) is nothing short of inspiring.
🎪 Why We Must Support the Circus
Because every seat filled tells a performer, “Your art
matters.”
Because behind every somersault is a story of sweat,
struggle, and supreme skill. Their life is also important. We have to support
them.
And because, sometimes, amidst falling tents and
flying dust, you’ll discover a kind of magic you won’t find anywhere else.
We returned home that evening, tired but glowing. Not
just from the circus, but from having lived a circus within a circus—complete
with storms, chaos, laughs, and awe.
And yes, Gopi still insists the tent looked structurally suspicious. The
ropes were tight.
Next time a circus comes to town, don’t scroll past. Step inside. Witness wonder. Support art. 🎟️🌪️🎪
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