28: Circus - The magic of live shows
I still remember the first time I went to see the circus. I was very excited to see the clown, people hanging and swinging from one bar to another 30 feet above the ground and animals performing stunts. The circus tent felt so huge—wonder if me being small is why it looked enormous.
After almost two decades, I went to the circus this weekend with my kids. It was so much the same. These circus performers have been performing for several generations together, an art form that is in fact older than cinema and theater entertainment. I suddenly realized the tent seemed smaller now. But the takeaway is, no online shows or TV programs can beat a live performance by these amazing artists. It's fascinating to contemplate the nomadic life of these people which was one of main source of entertainment back then.
My children's faces told the whole story. Their eyes widened with each new act—gasping at the rope swingers, stunts, erupting into laughter at the clowns' antics, and gripping my hands tightly during the more daring stunts. My elder one couldn't sit still during the aerial performance, whispering "How is he doing that?" while my younger one was completely mesmerized by the fire rings and horse running in circles while the artist goes for a summersault, his mouth hanging open in silent awe.
Even though they are growing up surrounded by tablets, streaming services, and dazzling CGI effects, there was something about the raw talent and live danger of the circus that captured their attention completely. No pause button, no screen to separate them from the experience—just pure, unfiltered wonder.
Like the stars they travel beneath, circus performers have their own orbits and constellations of talent. They journey from place to place, bringing wonder to each stop along their path, much like how celestial bodies move through our vast universe, creating moments of awe when we pause to look up.
The circus, with its ring at the center and audience surrounding it, mirrors our own cosmic position—spectators to something much greater than ourselves, yet intimately connected to the performance of life unfolding before us.
What struck me most was how timeless the experience feels—like gazing at distant stars whose light began its journey long before we were here to witness it. Some things, despite our technological advances, remain powerful in their simplicity and direct human connection. Watching my children experience the same wonder I felt decades ago was like witnessing the perfect orbit of time—coming full circle through generations of shared amazement.