GRUNDY THE CIRCUS MONSTER.

Does it hurt to be abnormal? Ask Grundy. When all stares upon you pierce like a million, tiny arrows. “Freak”, they called him. And by the ablest imagination, they were right. When even his smile wrought fear in the audience he sought to please. Circus, that’s where he was brought up, and what could wail better than a century of suppressed laughter. For not a day did pass he stopped looking for affection. The fat gentleman, the crumpled lady, the candy girl, those mean kids. He could happily end his life in exchange for their love. But the dank corridors and iron cages is what he returned to, every night. 

 

Some in the circus argue they found Grundy abandoned at a gypsy camp, undeniably lending to the legend of his cursed life. Yet others maintain Grundy came all by himself. The ringmaster holds firm to his theory. The one rainy night he went out for a piss. When a crack of lightning blazed the horizon, this creature came charging, right at his throat if he could make you believe. Not surprisingly the bosses at the circus were afraid to approach the abomination. Outright ugly, wasn’t uncommon for the ladies to retch at a mere glimpse. As he learnt to live among his new folks, the legend of him grew. It was almost taken that he had come to pass a hundred years, knew hokum magic and was a deceitful killer. Perhaps they were right, Grundy, at a glance seemed all that.

 

While Grundy was an animal at the circus, Shanta differed. Then again a woman of ill repute couldn’t warranty much. Her delicate, impossibly slender fingers seemed to cure much of the hatred he held in him. She brought him incense from the temples and lotus from the lakes. She even sang, as her feverish, frail body would sway to the renditions of the hymns. For all the optimism that seemed to pull the humane from the animal, that coaxed smiles from the monster, couldn’t last a “summer romance”. Shanta didn’t rise to the morning tolls. She possibly couldn’t with her torso missing, presumably, brutally gnawed at.

 

They shoved hot iron to his face, smeared him with shit. Grundy was always a part of pompous displays; atrocities were a minor diversion. He kept his silence, never spoke a word, and almost got killed. When they got tired and flimsy, they simply locked him in his cage and forgot. That was when he discovered light, in the dark brooding corners. And for the first time he felt a strange sensation on his cheeks, that warm dribble rolling down his chin. He stood stunned, almost impassive to this newfound sensation. And it did not stop there. He tried stopping, it got stronger. And then he let it come; Streams of tears down those weary eyes.

 

But what occurred that night? While the accusations were unanimous, Grundy was defenceless.  The ignominy would haunt him for centuries to come. Now embittered and personally shattered, Grundy resigned to his fate, he always did. And that was when we saw something change in him. The remorseless creature was blithe. A macaque on a tent pole! He flourished on the circus scene like fire to the straw. Suddenly the circus was enlivened, no exaggeration then it was packed to full houses. Grundy could chew iron, devour raw seals, and even allowed the curious children to touch his scalded hide. He gave the circus his life, and no amount of chide would ever break him again. He had vowed and he knew how true it was.

 

Decades later the cityscape changed. There were automobiles, industrial smoke and general apathy. That age bore a flower. A frail trapeze artist that was the most beautiful acrobat the circus had ever seen.  Grundy adored her, for in more than a thousand ways, she was Shanta.  She had fed Grundy as a kid, but kept her distance, especially since the ring master had warned her. Grundy admired her with a ferocity that was taking control over his mind, and would eventually his heart. Oh how he wished to be a part of her conversation, the reason for her careless giggles. Poor soul wouldn’t understand, you never douse fire, with fire.

 How strange is fate then?  The circus burned in raging flames, trapping Grundy and the girl inside. Nobody came to the rescue, none could. The ferocity was astounding; Flames, resolute, coming from the pits of hell itself. They waited till the morning light, when the bell tolls, and beneath the white smoke, they saw a miracle. A mass of charred flesh, like a blanket, lay upon the frail girl. Sometimes you douse fire with fire.

 

A long time after the event, the circus was restored. Grundy survived. The girl did too. With time they discovered a strange friendship. Grundy was overwhelmed with this reckless trapeze girl. She was a splash of cold water to his charred soul. They became inseparable in the months that followed, with some getting close to suspect that the allure of the beast was not normal, that the fire was a setup, that he had cast his spell. It was upon him that he did cast a spell, we all call it love.

But then, happiness and Grundy were old enemies. And the hour of his destruction came much sooner than Grundy could ever imagine.

 

Some argue it was the devilish, handsome brute. Others say it was plain old luck; that Grundy was asking for it, that his end was inevitable. Much before the news of the tragedy arrived, when Grundy was happily performing at the circus, happily loving his friend. There came upon this charming acrobat. He had the circus under his spell; the girl didn’t stand a chance. While the waning meetings quietly pulled a stake at Grundy’s heart, his chance sightings of her in his embrace almost burned him inside. What was Grundy supposed to do? What are monsters supposed to do ? And so he resigned to his fate, very quietly, submission of a lifetime. The monster wouldn’t smile again.

 

It was the same night again, the kind that brought him here. Rains carried forth by winds sprayed the circus cold. If the beast had ever held some magic to his name, then it was this night that would work, overtime!

A premonition that would guide him to the depths of the hallways, to the chamber where shanta had called his name, to the night he had lost her forever. Was it not his shanta that lay that night?

Torso ripped apart, as he held her in her arms. That was when she confessed she had cheated his beloved beast, betrayed the child that had looked upon the only human being ever? She died in his arms, only pleading for his silence and a promise no harm would come to the ring master, the murderer. And when he finally reached upon the spot that she died, it was him, the brute, defiling her right before his eyes. It must have been years of silence, or perhaps his suppressed rage, he could hold no longer and pounced upon him like a dazed kamikaze. In the mêlée that ensued, the hapless girl couldn’t decide where to vent her confusion or frustration. She drew the stake into the brute’s heart, or so she thought. The beast meanwhile had rendered the acrobat devoid of his life. As lightning flashed on the blood laden floor, a shriek so terrifying, blood curdling emanated from the pale girl’s throat. Grundy slumped quietly, the stake firmly gripped, drawn right to hi heart. As life escaped, inches by inches, and the horrific realization dawned upon the girl, Grundy seemed to be at ease. He for once felt love possessing him like never before. As warm tears streamed from the girls cheek onto his, he couldn’t help but smile. Inconsolable as the girl was, and would be for years to come, the monster knew he wouldn’t die in vain.