Circus ©
Scene-I
(Dim light on center stage. A glass window on one side. Two tables placed on the either side of the stage with few chairs. Floyd’s comfortably numb being played in the background.
Now the music fades and a single spotlight on center stage. An old fragile looking man appears on stage with a broomstick. He sits on floor, his hands are moving as if he is trying to scrub the floor. His movements are awkwardly stiff as he is any kind of mechanical device to perform the work. Suddenly he stops and hesitating looks on the either side of the stage and straight towards the audience)
Man: (holding an imaginary microphone and a candle, stands up and runs towards the audience) ladies and gentle man!!! Welcome to the circus at the end of the universe. It seems you people turned up for the show a bit early… you know I still haven’t cleaned this mess out here. But that’s ok none of us are really clean here. If you people are wondering what actually I am doing, then let me explain…. I am cleaning my guilt, my incapabilities… my complexes, just like this respected august audience here.
(He again goes back to his work, but with in seconds he moves away from the audience with a scream).
Man: but why are you people listening to me? I am not your handsome cowboy from west, neither am I the wise man of east…. Thieves!!! You people must be thieves. But... What will you steal? What remains? In your blindness have you forgotten that all men are created equal? Yet some die alone…
(He tries to hide himself with his arms and runs towards the tables. A young woman appears on the stage from right wing of the stage)
Woman: Just yesterday I hear the news of someone stealing a dead man’s chest, and you still have eyes and a working liver.... but thieves don’t come to the circus with pan caked faces my dear. These must be our patrons.
Now please, let me introduce my worse half and myself. We are your hosts for the show. But don’t tell anyone about this, it’s just between you and me and maybe him but he doesn’t know…
Man: yes, yes!!! It’s a circus.
My dear audiences please don’t get fooled; today there is no show. Actually we never had any shows; it’s not even a circus. It’s a mental asylum, like rest of the breathing space around us…
Woman: shut up you old fool, (now towards the audience with a visible disgust for the old man) excuse us for this inconvenience. Though some people feel this place is a cuckoo’s nest, but it’s not an asylum any given day… you don’t believe me? Well, let me tell you the story of this place…
Adapted from Ken Kesey's novel 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest'
