By Mac J Dkhar
I have been to many strange places, but when I returned here, I got caught in a story that everyone was telling. A very strange situation where the people on stage are not running a state, but a show. And the audience? They take out their kwai, open the tympew leaves, slide in the shun, and spit red arcs into the air. Between chews and gossip, they murmur a story of pure entertainment. So, here is a tale – The Madhatter’s Circus.
The stage was set and the lights went dim, the drums went POWWW! and the Madhatter walked onstage, cane in one hand and hat tipped at a naughty angle. He paused, let the silence grow, and then swept into a bow.
“Ladies and gentlemen, behold the grand design!”, he exclaimed. “Every two and a half years, we shuffle your clowns like cards in a magician’s deck. And tonight is the appointed hour, the moment of midterm course correction!”
The crowd clapped politely, but one voice broke through: “Correction? Sounds more like midterm course confusion.”
The Madhatter smiled, unfazed. The bell sounded, the spotlight flickered. The Madhatter’s Circus began.
Act I: The Vanishing Lady
“Watch closely!” cried the Madhatter. “For my first trick, I shall make someone disappear!”
With a flick of his cane, poof! The lone woman minister vanished. In a matrilineal land, no less. The villagers gasped, and the audience hissed. “Why her? An insult!” The Madhatter knew it too. He had figured it all out. He picked a woman because her absence would shock and prick; a great way to distract, hold the crowd’s attention, and drown out deeper criticism, while the cracks in his reign quietly faded. After all, women were never partners in his circus, only props.
The Madhatter tipped his hat like he had pulled off the impossible.
Act II: Tourism on a Walking Stick
“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” the Madhatter shouted, “Behold the second Act – Swapping, it is! I will trade youth for wisdom!”
The tourism rooster, full of ideas, moved away, and an old, weary tortoise waddled onto the stage, suddenly tasked of luring tourists. “Dynamism on a walking stick!” the monkeys in the rafters yelled.
But the Madhatter’s trick was not an accident. He knew that tourism, the most exciting and lively acts of the circus, needed a puppet not a leader. And what better puppet than a tottering tortoise? Too polite to complain, too slow to catch the bus, and too tired to chase after backpackers. The Madhatter laughed and said, “Why take a chance on a rooster that can do tricks when you have a tortoise that mistakes festivals for nap schedules?” After all, it is easier to pull strings when someone moves slower than the cherry blossoms bloom.
Act III: Health, the Gamble
“New blood!” the Madhatter said, twirling his cane theatrically. “Our circus loves it!” A lamb with big eyes stepped out and was handed the keys to Health. A clueless novice in nice suits. The fragile hens clucked nervously for they knew their well-being was at stake.
The villagers whispered, “What healing could a lamb perform when he had never touched a thermometer?”
But the Madhatter was rewarding loyalty. They whispered that this lamb was chosen not for his skills in medicine, but because it followed and was led by a cunning hyena’s staff dangling with gold coins.
The trick was simple: pick someone who would never bite the hand that fed them. The Madhatter smiled. Health was all about keeping the pockets in his circus “healthy.”
Act IV: Turn Off the Lights
The Madhatter yelled, “And now, an electrical and shocking act!”
The beaver-engineer, who had built homes and dammed the rivers of loadshedding, was pushed aside. A class-ten ostrich, dim but always busy hawking vehicles, lolloped along. The crowd jeered at its puny mind and bulky body, for they knew it would bury its head in the sand at the first sign of trouble.
Simultaneously, the lights flickered on cue, heightening the act’s tension, while the Madhatter yelled, “Electrifying change!” The villagers were unimpressed and quietly stocked up on candles, wondering if the next blackout would be called a “midterm stability correction.”
Act V: The Eagle Waits
The Madhatter looked up as the room grew restless, expecting a wave of sneers. The opposition eagles who were sharp-eyed, fierce, and forever screeching at every stumble, would have usually filled the air with shrill protests.
But this time, there was silence. The eagles circled high above, wings wide and their eyes fixed on the tent. They knew better than to waste their voices. Why swoop now? When the canvas was crumpled, the poles bent and the circus would soon collapse?
The villagers whispered, half in awe and fear, “When the eagles fall silent, it means they are waiting for the right time to dive.”
Act VI: The Hyena Behind the Curtain
“Now,” the Madhatter whispered, “A secret everyone knows but we will pretend it’s new!”
The hyena, master of moneybags, crept from behind the velvet curtain. He did not roar or command; he did not need to. With every clink of coins, the chairs danced along to its jingle, typical of a musical chair act. His sharp mocking laugh made it clear who held the leash. He needed no spotlight, for everyone knew the circus was his.
Yes, the Madhatter was the Ringmaster, but the true ring of power lay in the hyena’s golden teeth.
Act VII: Monkey Business as ‘Your Choice’ of Life
The Madhatter yelled, “For your delight, I present the dancing monkey!”
Arts and Culture was his stage. He twirled, hands high, chanting “It is your choice!” Heritage shrank to hashtags and Instagram’s fleeting trends. The parrots sighed, “so, this is culture now!”
Act VIII: Perform and Perish
“And now, a cruel twist!” the Madhatter yelled. “Here, performers must perish!”
The hardworking horse galloped in, with its muscles gleaming with the sweat of real work. He had even won races that made the circus proud. People praised him, kids cheered for him and slowly his fame began to outshine the Madhatter himself. And of course, that could not happen. Suddenly, his shiny mane faced the harsh end of the Madhatter’s whip and he whimpered in pain.
In trotted a donkey, jingling proudly in a garland of silver coins, while the horse, betrayed and broken, gasped: ‘Et tu, Brutus?’ The villagers, disgusted, spat out their kwai juice. They grumbled, “That is the reward for hard work. Performers punished and lackeys rewarded!”
The Madhatter clapped the loudest because he was happy that no beast in the circus would ever take the spotlight. Better a braying donkey than a noble horse who steals the show.
Act IX: Thrones for Dynasties
“Finally,” the Madhatter proudly declared, “A royal touch!”
The grandest thrones rolled out, placed neatly in the laps of a business family. People were ignored for their merits and performance. From the shadows, the hyena laughed. They knew that when the thrones were chosen and handed, it always ended up in the lap of the “Dhar lings” of the show.
Act X: Education Déjà Vu
The same old owl, who had once turned Education into its own circus, wobbled back onto the stage. There he was again, feathers ruffled but perched proudly, as if age alone made him wise.
The pigeons cooed, “The second time will surely be different!” as they pecked on bread-crumbs.
The teachers, less amused, tightened their tapmoh shawls and sighed. They had seen this play before and knew they would be the ones weaving thread from their tears, stitching the same old tent holes in the streets again.
Act XI: The BureauCats
The Madhatter declared, “And now, my grand finale!”
The main cats of the circus, the bureau-Cats, came into view. They lay across the fattest portfolios like they were pillows just for them, looking sleek and smug.
The crowd laughed bitterly. They knew who feasts, when the cream was poured. One particularly bloated Tomcat licked his whiskers after his share, while his small cat-sultants fought over the dregs, purring “Kum-Arrgh,” in feigned delight.
But the cats didn’t just stop there. They toyed with the mice-nisters, tossing them back and forth and watching them squeak and scatter with no way out. The villagers spat their kwai and laughed darkly, saying, “This is not a reshuffle!” It is A cat playing with its food.”
The Madhatter smiled for he knew that behind every weak mice-nisters in front, pretending to govern, hides a fat cat.
Epilogue: Curtain Falls
The drums rolled, the Madhatter bowed. The monkey danced, the donkey brayed, the tortoise dozed, the hyena cackled, and the bureauCats licked their whiskers. The villagers spat their last kwai, muttering: “New costumes, same animals.”
The curtain fell, but everyone knew the circus would return. The tickets were sold once every five years and the audience had no choice but to watch. One old man laughed bitterly and said, “In this circus, the clowns change masks, but the joke is always on us.”
