The Dance and Death of Kuma The Bear

April 5th, 2013

Tag words: missing tooth, makeup, horoscope

Eradi checked his horoscope in the newspaper at exactly 7:12AM, after having digested the headlines at 7:00AM, the sports page at 7:07AM and the obituaries at 7:10AM. Do not think him morbid, or dark, in any manner; he had developed the habit of looking out for friends' names ever since he hit the age of 75 in a dramatic manner- plunging through the safety net from a height of about a tenth of a kilometre at his last act of trapeze. Eradi still treasured the blood soaked costume from then. Now, he resided in St. Mary Ann's Nursing Home for the Aged, paid for by an NGO who took care of circus artists and folk dancers. He read the papers everyday, made no trouble about his breakfast, and properly utilized his time outside in the evening. Eradi was a good inmate in all manners, but one; every night, at 7:00PM, he would return to his room, lock the door behind him, and play blaring music from an aged tape recorder. The Matron had tried gifting him a music player, but had withdrawn his offer hastily, when the taciturn Eradi's face turned a squishy, bright red with apoplexy. The music, hence, continued to blare, and the Matron resignedly changed the TV timings of the B block to 7:00PM. Thus, every night, the corridor stood empty witness to Eradi's revisitations of his past. For, no one ever knew that Eradi had smuggled in his face paint, his makeup, his other "self". The music he played was his act's song- "The Dance and Death of Kuma The Bear", by Ji Tzu Tan. He would never forget the progression of notes even if he were to die, for he had been born to it; a child born in a circus caravan to 2 trapeze artists. 

Every child's dream.

What a nightmare. 

His entire life could be summarized into that 6 minute track. He had relished his accident, utterly believing that he had escaped that life, that costume, that song. 

Yet, the first night in the nursing home, the nightmare had occurred, more vivid than his vision had been in 13 years. The net, the speeding earth, the twanging snap of rope, and the gnashing crunch of bone. But, the crescendo of the dream (and the song) was the abrupt discontinuing of the song, the silence that did not belong in the story. Someone had shut the song off.

Why had they turned the song off?

Had he, Eradi, not the right to listen to the song that had been his ditty, his anthem, his friend and his dirge? 

He had woken up screaming in terror, at the idea that someone, anyone, could, with the press of a button,stop the song that was, in essence, his very being.

He refused to eat for 2 days, until the day he played the cassette. The song had submerged him, filled him, supported him, and whispered his name over and over, like a chant that made his skeleton more tangible, more solid than it had ever been, summoning from his depths all of him. 

He had, in a vitalized trance, sat in front of his square little mirror, opened his makeup trunk, and applied with unforgotten skill, the paints that made the other "him".

Rocky.

The Clown.

The Jester.

The Child-Dream stealer.

Rocky looked the same. His eyes were tired and rheumy, and his hair just barely made whisps above his ears. He also appeared to be missing a tooth. But those were minor, smidgen changes. What mattered still remained; the grin, the nose, the dimples that never ceased to exist. They were the same. Rocky, Eradi had come to realize at the age of eleven, was the reason Eradi existed. One could not be without the other. Rocky made people touch the skies, made their hearts pound till their shiny, sweaty faces plunged with him in terror, towards the nets, before he pulled off an escape they heartily acknowledge with applause. Ah, applause. It fed Rocky. That was probably why he went wild in the fag end of their career, when the Great Chinese Traveling Circus could hardly muster a fifty-strong crowd. Eradi still remembered the last time he saw Rocky, his makeup smudged, his happy face contorted from within, the paint cracking at his frown lines. The incarnation of hate...

Eradi-stealer.

He had spoken about Rocky to his Doctor in the nursing home. They told him Rocky did not exist. They told him that he still remained Eradi when the makeup was on. He had shaken his head in exasperation the first 2 times, then he had stopped visiting the doctor because he seemed to be stupid. How would the Doctor know Rocky wasn't real if he hadn't met him? Had the Doctor ever had his dreams stolen and flung through the skies by Rocky's acts? He would definitely change his mind about Rocky then. Eradi had, as a result, taken to believing in Zodiac signs. They managed to bend the truth to mean anything the reader desired. Like his horoscope this particular day:

"Follow your intuition today, and take on challenges you have kept aside. Success is sure to favour you. Romance is a little low, but as long as your spouse/partner does not expect a trip somewhere, things should be just fine."

Hence, he had followed his intuition, and worn his makeup to the mess hall, enduring the stares and comments of his fellow inmates. As he spooned peas into his red, painted mouth, he knew what he had to look forward to. The next day, he would read the headlines at 7:00AM, the sports page at 7:07AM, the obituaries at 7:10AM, and the horoscope at 7:12AM. He would wait until sunset, and at 7:00PM, he would insert the cassette into the tape recorder. And Eradi would apply makeup to the tunes and strains of "The Dance and Death of Kuma The Bear" filling his room. And then, he would die somewhere in the near future.

The End.

But until that day, Eradi would meet Rocky.

And the song would play, echoing in the dark, square corridors of B block, St. Mary Ann's Nursing Home for the Aged.