Love’s Intoxications

“You are the master of vanishing acts,” Kartik told the magician. “Make me vanish.”

The magician smiled.  “What do you mean by make you vanish?”

“I want to disappear from the world. I’m sick of the world.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You make even a train vanish. You made the Taj Mahal vanish once. Why can’t you then make a small creature like me vanish?”

“Magic is just illusions, young man,” the magician continued with his unfading smile which had a magical charm.  “The train doesn’t vanish actually.  Nor does the Taj.”

“Then?”

“I merely divert the viewer’s attention to something else.”

Kartik looked at the magician incredulously.

“Have you ever seen a circus?” Magician asked.

Kartik nodded his head. “Yes.”

“Have you watched the trapeze artistes?”

Kartik nodded again.

“Sometimes the artiste on a trapeze vanishes temporarily from the attention of the audience.  The audience is sitting mesmerised by the artistes jumping from trapeze to another, like a juggler’s pieces flying crazily in the air. Then comes the clown wearing a skirt-like loose garment over his motley.  We expect the clown to catch the next trapeze or to be caught by the artiste on that trapeze, as it happens with the other artistes. But the artiste only catches the clown’s skirt. The clown comes falling down, falling down, with a shriek and with his little limbs flying all around. The audience gasps for a moment. But the clown lands in the safety net and jumps in it comically like only a clown can.  All the while, the trapeze artistes have vanished. It’s their brief rest period. Actually they have not vanished. They are there at their high stations. But the audience’s attention is diverted from them. That’s the vanishing trick.”

Kartik was listening intently. “I understand. Living without attracting attention is the vanishing trick.”

“That’s not going to be easy for you,” Magician said as Kartik was about to turn and leave.

“Why?” Kartik was surprised.

“You belong to the type that can’t vanish even if you want to. You belong to the type that draws people’s attention to themselves even if they don’t want to.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was watching you come in.  As you were walking in, a little girl out there in the yard fell down.  Immediately you bent down, picked her up, patted the dust off her little dress, rubbed her hurt knee, and noticing that she had tripped on her untied shoelace you knelt down before her and tied the lace.”

“So?”

“You are addicted to love. You love the intoxication of love. Anyone who knows such love will draw attention even if he doesn’t want to.”

Kartik stared at Magician blankly. Wistfully. Confused.

“That little girl to whom you gave your love,” Magician continued, “is my daughter.”

“Does that make any difference?” Kartik wondered.

“Not to you, but to me, yes, it does.  And every person you love is somebody’s son or daughter, brother or sister. That way, everybody is connected to you, to any person who is addicted to love.”

Kartik didn’t know what to say.

“Savour your intoxication, young man,” Magician continued. “It’s a good intoxication though it’s dangerous too. It’s good. Dangerous too. Like other intoxications, it can make you what you are not sometimes. Many times. But it’s good. Dangerous too. Live dangerously. Don’t vanish.”