The Magic Show
The location, Mt Abu Polo Ground.
The occasion, an Indian 'well known' magician.
Performance time - 6.30pm. That was the advertised time, yet if nothing else time is stretchable here and patience boundless.
The performance space - an outdoor stage, bare, with some simple lighting.
Seating, first come first serve.
The crowd starts to gather towards six pm. There are fifty seats opportunistically set in several rows well back from the performance area. White brittle plastic traps of un-comfortability. These are quickly occupied or saved. The bare earthen ground has been covered with hundreds of metres of green carpet, hard wearing, pegged into the ground. The area decorated with waving flags caught in the chill breeze that has been with us all day. Fairy lights are spread from pole to pole, wires precariously taped together hanging from power, providing some ambient light though it is spring and sunset is late.
The children start to arrive. They have heard about the magician all day. A vehicle with an enormous megaphone has been cruising the Mount blaring out advertisement between Hindi songs. Think of a Mr Whippy van on steroids and with ADD. Even the profoundly deaf would be aware of this event via the sound vibrations emanating from the boom box.
Curiosity draws the crowd. Not only the young. There are the 'too cool' mischievous male youth, fresh hair cuts, full of energy, testosterone and little release. They gather in clusters and initiate alpha male rituals. It's funny to watch from a distance as I have known some of them their whole life. To see them away from family prodding independence is entertaining. The expanse of the Polo Ground has in play several football and cricket games. Serious training is in session as well for the local teams. Families arrive and there is much arranging with the young seated at the front beneath the stage. The wary cling to mum who has to sit with them encased in the folds of her sari.
Dads stand to the side or at the back.
It is well past the advertised starting time. On stage the magician, not yet dressed is still laying out the tables and props full of potential wonder. The apprentice seems out of his depth. There is so much stuff piled around, there must be some sequential order. The crowd swells further and now there are many standing at the back and to the sides. The space on the ground is full yet still more urchins find their way through the sea of legs penetrating the interior. Lots of shuffling as the wait continues. Someone checks the microphone for sound, looks at his watch, speaks with the magician and then returns randomly asking someone in the audience if they could sing a song. An announcement finally, the show would start in five minutes. Hopeful. Further people arrive vying for clear sight of the stage. Vehicles parked close by are moved backwards opening more space on the sides. The magician has disappeared, a good sign. Several assistants are moving the tables forward on the stage. Anticipation. It is now after seven pm. The light is fading, the breeze increasing. I wish I had another layer and think myself warm.
Music announces the show start. Dressed in black pants, shirt and jacket, the magician strides forward followed by his apprentice, in jeans a colourful vest and an ill fitting magicians black hat sitting low over his eyes. Mr Magic twirls a baton, Ta da! It lands in the sea of kids. Recovered, having survived the fall, it becomes a scarf. Nothing from the audience. He continues with more simple tricks, appearing flowers, nothing up the sleeve, garlands of flowers out of empty containers , others tinsel and confetti. One trick is an acrylic 'empty' box that is incredulously covered and fills with sweets that he launches into the crowd, causing a riot amongst the kids as there are not enough. They scramble over each other, the mothers and small ones. Crying erupts. The music stops and the kids are asked to find peace, 'shanti, shanti, shanti' and sit back down.
Half of us are to the side and for a magician that is not optimal. Because of the limited lighting he is forced to be directly front of stage. There is little room the hide or distract. His little dance is not effective and there is no glamorous beauty to focus on. The apprentice has no clue and keeps picking up the wrong things or cannot find the equipment. I wonder to myself if he would do any better just removing the hat. The 'magic' is evident from the side. I want to still be in wonder but the bumbling makes it difficult to sustain. A few more tricks where the kids are covered in metallic confetti, that was a bucket of water, brings an applause. An hour in and most tricks are just not quite polished enough. The magician spills an awful lot of milk and water on stage that also sprays the first couple of rows. I think the apprentice picked up the wrong glass and there was too much for the trick. It is so incredible that it is hard not to watch, wanting to see what next happens. The floating glass of water, being poured, was my wonder.
Mr Magic started a trick, innocently enough, some string, water, and then a razor blade. I should have left at that point instead I watched, rapt, as did all. This was the suspense thriller trick. A young lad was called from the audience to verify it was a new razor blade, unwrapping it, checking, then place it on the table. First he swallowed metres of thin string, but then he placed the razor blade on his tongue. I know there was a swap but visuals stick. He chewed down on the blade and the acting started. Grimaced face as he continued munching on metal, the movements become further exaggerated until he spat a 'bloody mixture' on the stage ( hopefully not those below ) before furiously indicating to the stunned apprentice to run to the back of stage and get a bucket. Chewing and convulsing in turn, spitting a decent volume of red saliva, he then drank from the tumbler only to bring this up as well. This exaggerated performance carried on for minutes. The crowd was still, the suspense had grown and anticipation of the outcome palpable. I wanted to walk but couldn't drag myself away. I needed to see the outcome. No longer was it a kids show. No community service announcements about not trying this at home. Falling to bent knees the convulsions continued, the bucket close by, the retching, revolting. Finally, it seems, he found the trick and had his apprentice move off stage to the audience and clear a central avenue, one last gag and the end of the string was in one hand. He pulled slowly and a tied razor blade came out, and then another, and another. He handed e string end to the apprentice who stretched the garland of razor blades, about fifteen metres, before the magician untied the string from his back tooth. Ta da!! A big applause from the crowd.
I walked away at this point. There was more to come but my head was filled with a visual horror of the last act.
The location, Mt Abu Polo Ground.
The occasion, an Indian 'well known' magician.
Performance time - 6.30pm. That was the advertised time, yet if nothing else time is stretchable here and patience boundless.
The performance space - an outdoor stage, bare, with some simple lighting.
Seating, first come first serve.
The crowd starts to gather towards six pm. There are fifty seats opportunistically set in several rows well back from the performance area. White brittle plastic traps of un-comfortability. These are quickly occupied or saved. The bare earthen ground has been covered with hundreds of metres of green carpet, hard wearing, pegged into the ground. The area decorated with waving flags caught in the chill breeze that has been with us all day. Fairy lights are spread from pole to pole, wires precariously taped together hanging from power, providing some ambient light though it is spring and sunset is late.
The children start to arrive. They have heard about the magician all day. A vehicle with an enormous megaphone has been cruising the Mount blaring out advertisement between Hindi songs. Think of a Mr Whippy van on steroids and with ADD. Even the profoundly deaf would be aware of this event via the sound vibrations emanating from the boom box.
Curiosity draws the crowd. Not only the young. There are the 'too cool' mischievous male youth, fresh hair cuts, full of energy, testosterone and little release. They gather in clusters and initiate alpha male rituals. It's funny to watch from a distance as I have known some of them their whole life. To see them away from family prodding independence is entertaining. The expanse of the Polo Ground has in play several football and cricket games. Serious training is in session as well for the local teams. Families arrive and there is much arranging with the young seated at the front beneath the stage. The wary cling to mum who has to sit with them encased in the folds of her sari.
Dads stand to the side or at the back.
It is well past the advertised starting time. On stage the magician, not yet dressed is still laying out the tables and props full of potential wonder. The apprentice seems out of his depth. There is so much stuff piled around, there must be some sequential order. The crowd swells further and now there are many standing at the back and to the sides. The space on the ground is full yet still more urchins find their way through the sea of legs penetrating the interior. Lots of shuffling as the wait continues. Someone checks the microphone for sound, looks at his watch, speaks with the magician and then returns randomly asking someone in the audience if they could sing a song. An announcement finally, the show would start in five minutes. Hopeful. Further people arrive vying for clear sight of the stage. Vehicles parked close by are moved backwards opening more space on the sides. The magician has disappeared, a good sign. Several assistants are moving the tables forward on the stage. Anticipation. It is now after seven pm. The light is fading, the breeze increasing. I wish I had another layer and think myself warm.
Music announces the show start. Dressed in black pants, shirt and jacket, the magician strides forward followed by his apprentice, in jeans a colourful vest and an ill fitting magicians black hat sitting low over his eyes. Mr Magic twirls a baton, Ta da! It lands in the sea of kids. Recovered, having survived the fall, it becomes a scarf. Nothing from the audience. He continues with more simple tricks, appearing flowers, nothing up the sleeve, garlands of flowers out of empty containers , others tinsel and confetti. One trick is an acrylic 'empty' box that is incredulously covered and fills with sweets that he launches into the crowd, causing a riot amongst the kids as there are not enough. They scramble over each other, the mothers and small ones. Crying erupts. The music stops and the kids are asked to find peace, 'shanti, shanti, shanti' and sit back down.
Half of us are to the side and for a magician that is not optimal. Because of the limited lighting he is forced to be directly front of stage. There is little room the hide or distract. His little dance is not effective and there is no glamorous beauty to focus on. The apprentice has no clue and keeps picking up the wrong things or cannot find the equipment. I wonder to myself if he would do any better just removing the hat. The 'magic' is evident from the side. I want to still be in wonder but the bumbling makes it difficult to sustain. A few more tricks where the kids are covered in metallic confetti, that was a bucket of water, brings an applause. An hour in and most tricks are just not quite polished enough. The magician spills an awful lot of milk and water on stage that also sprays the first couple of rows. I think the apprentice picked up the wrong glass and there was too much for the trick. It is so incredible that it is hard not to watch, wanting to see what next happens. The floating glass of water, being poured, was my wonder.
Mr Magic started a trick, innocently enough, some string, water, and then a razor blade. I should have left at that point instead I watched, rapt, as did all. This was the suspense thriller trick. A young lad was called from the audience to verify it was a new razor blade, unwrapping it, checking, then place it on the table. First he swallowed metres of thin string, but then he placed the razor blade on his tongue. I know there was a swap but visuals stick. He chewed down on the blade and the acting started. Grimaced face as he continued munching on metal, the movements become further exaggerated until he spat a 'bloody mixture' on the stage ( hopefully not those below ) before furiously indicating to the stunned apprentice to run to the back of stage and get a bucket. Chewing and convulsing in turn, spitting a decent volume of red saliva, he then drank from the tumbler only to bring this up as well. This exaggerated performance carried on for minutes. The crowd was still, the suspense had grown and anticipation of the outcome palpable. I wanted to walk but couldn't drag myself away. I needed to see the outcome. No longer was it a kids show. No community service announcements about not trying this at home. Falling to bent knees the convulsions continued, the bucket close by, the retching, revolting. Finally, it seems, he found the trick and had his apprentice move off stage to the audience and clear a central avenue, one last gag and the end of the string was in one hand. He pulled slowly and a tied razor blade came out, and then another, and another. He handed e string end to the apprentice who stretched the garland of razor blades, about fifteen metres, before the magician untied the string from his back tooth. Ta da!! A big applause from the crowd.
I walked away at this point. There was more to come but my head was filled with a visual horror of the last act.
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