It was a coincidence that the manager of a circus company visited the master that day to seek his permission to hold shows. When he saw Mannu sitting tearfully, tied to a pole, he came close and smiled at him. Mannu jumped up, fell at his feet and began to salute him. The manager understood that he was domesticated. He needed a monkey for his circus. He talked to the master, gave him a fair price and took Mannu with him. However, Mannu soon realized that he had now landed up in a worse place. The manager gave him to a servant who was in charge of the monkeys. The servant was a very cruel and crude person. There were several monkeys in his care. Each one of them was in terrible pain. The keeper would eat up all the food meant for the monkeys. The other monkeys didn’t welcome Mannu into their midst. His coming created a commotion among them. If the keeper hadn’t separated them, they would’ve made mincemeat of him. Mannu had to learn new acts now—riding a bicycle, climbing on to a running horse and standing on it with his two hind legs, walking on a fine rope and other such scary activities. He was often subjected to beating so he could learn these things properly. If he made the slightest mistake, he was caned on the back. Even more painful was the fact that he was confined to a cell throughout the day so that no one could see him. Mannu had performed acrobatics even when he lived with the juggler, but there was great difference between the two lives. The juggler had loved him, talked to him endearingly. But in this place, he was a prisoner, subjected to beatings and cruelty. He was taking time to learn the new skills because he was still constantly thinking about running away to Jeevan Das. Every day, he waited for an opportunity to run away but the animals were kept under strict surveillance in the circus. They didn’t even get fresh air, let alone the smallest opportunity to run away. Everyone was busy making him work; no one cared for his meals. Mannu had escaped the master’s bungalow quickly enough but he had now spent three months in this prison. His health worsened, and he was completely miserable. He had to work, whether he wanted or not. The owner of the circus only wanted to earn money; he didn’t care if Mannu lived or died.
One day, the circus tent caught fire. All the workers in the circus were gamblers. They would gamble, drink liquor and fight amongst themselves throughout the day. Amidst this mess, the gas pipes exploded suddenly. A commotion ensued. The spectators ran for their lives. The employees of the company started clamouring for their belongings. No one bothered about the animals. There were two lions, many cheetahs, one elephant and a bear. The number of dogs, horses and monkeys was much more. The company had never even cared for the lives of its employees in its quest for earning money. The animals were taken off their tethers only for their performances. When the fire broke out, they all ran away. Mannu, too, made his escape. He didn’t even look back to see whether the tent had burnt completely or if it was still safe.
Mannu went straight to Jeevan Das’s house. But the door was closed. He climbed up on the roofing tiles and made his way inside the house. But, there was no one inside. The place where he slept, which was usually plastered clean with cow dung by Budhiya, was now covered with grass. The wood on which he would climb up and jump around had been consumed by termites. The people of the mohalla recognized him immediately. A noise broke out—‘Mannu has come, Mannu has come.’
Mannu would go to the house every day in the evening and lie down on his old spot. He would roam around the mohalla throughout the day and only ate if someone gave him anything. He never touched anyone’s belongings. He still hoped to meet his old master somewhere in the area. The pitiable sound of his whining could be heard in the nights. Everybody was moved to tears by his plight.
Several months passed in this manner. One day, Mannu was sitting in the street when he heard some boys making a commotion. He saw an old woman, her head uncovered and her hair dishevelled. She was unclothed save for the rags wrapped around her waist. Like a ghost, she walked towards him. The boys behind her were pelting stones at her, shouting, ‘Mad Naani, Mad Naani’ at her and clapping their hands as they followed her. Every now and then she would stop and tell the boys, ‘I’m not insane. Why are you calling me mad?’ Finally, she sat on the ground and said, ‘Tell me, why do you call me mad?’ She wasn’t even a bit angry with the boys. She neither cried nor smiled. She kept quiet even when the stones hit her.
One of the boys asked, ‘Why don’t you wear clothes? What else is this if not madness?’
The old woman replied, ‘Clothes are worn for protection against the cold in the winter season. It’s summer these days.’
The boy asked again, ‘Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?’
The old woman answered, ‘What is it that you call shame? There are so many ascetics who remain naked all their lives. Why don’t you hit them with stones?’
The boy said, ‘They are men.’
The old woman asked, ‘Is shame the preserve of only women? Shouldn’t men feel
