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| Gandharva Vinod - The Legend Of The Clown |
Gandharva Vinod - The Legend Of The Clown
Introduction
I accidentally becomes a joker while chasing money, faces rejection, discovers Gandharva Vinod, and realizes I wasn’t a clown but the creator of clown.
Table of Contents
- Accidentally Joker Awakened
- Madness Pills, Joker on Heels
- Gave Fire on Stage, Got Fired Backstage
- Mascot Fired, Joker Freelance
- Boss Wanted Control, I Wanted Chaos
- I Was Gandharva Vinod, Not Joker
- Creator Meets Character
- One Entry Could End the Story
Accidentally Joker Awakened
I needed 30k to learn astrology. I had no job. I was doing freelance therapist work, but I wanted something different, so I decided to quit massage work. To earn money, I needed a new job. My life rule: never repeat a past job. I’d already done many – electrician helper, office boy, catering boy, sales executive, tele caller, cashier, marketer, spa therapist, hairdresser, detective, boxer, website designer, SEO executive, and more.
For a week, I couldn’t decide. Then, one day, I was standing outside my client’s housing society, waiting for their call, when one of my old clients saw me from her car. She called me and booked her next appointment. She used to call me “Joker.”
The first time in 2018 she ever called,
she asked, “After the massage, do you do a happy signature?” At that
moment, I didn’t understand what “happy signature” meant, and without
thinking, I blurted out that, “I would tell a joke as my happy signature.”
From that moment on, she kept calling me “Joker.”
I was already giving happy signatures in my own style, but I had no idea they were called “happy signatures.” She introduced my happy signature three years ago, and now she has introduced my new role: “Happy Joker.”
The moment I heard the word “Joker” from her mouth, I felt the desire to become one. That’s when I decided to become a joker.
Madness Pills, Joker on Heels
I told my mother, “I want to become a joker.”
Mom was stunned. Mom said, “You’re a graduate,
you’ve worked in a bank—get a proper job. Why a joker? Have you gone mad? Are
you secretly taking some madness pills? You’re writing a religious book—if you
turn into a joker now, people will laugh at you. No one will take your
scripture seriously.”
I understood her concern. I reassured her gently:
“Mom, I’m writing a religious book. To make it authentic, I need to understand
different human mindsets and the lives of people in various professions. Only
then can I write something profound. I’ll be a joker for just three or four
months. Once I gain that insight, I’ll move on to studying astrology and become
an astrologer.”
After some thought, she relented and gave her
blessing.
Gave Fire on Stage, Got Fired Backstage
That very day, I began calling circuses across the city. One agency in
Andheri offered training and placement—for ₹40,000. I was saving ₹30,000 for my
astrology course; another ₹40,000 was impossible. I politely declined.
Next, I tried event companies. One said they had no joker openings but
needed a mascot. I agreed instantly. They asked me to report to the main gate
of Goregaon Film City at 5 PM. I arrived on time. The coordinator led me inside
to a lavish children’s birthday party. My job: entertain the guests inside a
Patlu cartoon mascot costume.
I had never worn a mascot suit before, knew no one who had, and had no idea
how Patlu was supposed to behave. Never seen Motu Patlu cartoon. I confessed,
“Please guide me—I tend to make mistakes at first, then I get it right.” They
shrugged. “Just put it on, stand in one spot, and wave. Nothing more. Watch us
and learn.”
I slipped into the heavy Patlu costume and planted myself in position,
waving mechanically. Soon a teenage girl approached, holding a glass of water
and teasing, “Want some water? Drink up!”
Instinctively, I replied, “No, thank you.”
My supervisor, Saket, immediately pulled me behind the stage. he hissed, “There’s
dignity in this costume, no matter what anyone does, you do not speak. Not a
single word. Don’t let it happen again.”
Chastened, I went silent. The girl’s taunts no longer bothered me.
When the music started, something inside me took over. I began dancing—wild,
uninhibited, completely off-beat. The children burst into laughter and joined
me. Lost in the moment, I roamed the entire venue for a full thirty minutes.
Saket dragged me backstage again. he snapped, “You’re paid ₹500, not
₹5,000, Stand in one place and wave. That’s it. No wandering.”
I returned to my spot and danced lightly there instead. The kids crowded
around, jumping with me. One little boy pleaded, “Pick me up!” I hoisted him
into my arms.
Saket appeared once more, furious, “You’re killing me today. Keep the
children away—if they tear the costume, the boss will tear into you. Final
warning.”
Later, when the birthday cake was cut, all the mascots were called onstage.
As soon as I stepped up, I unleashed full-throttle dancing—every limb moving,
pure bliss. The other mascots just waved politely, but I was electric. A girl
on stage started dancing with me; soon we were doing an impromptu romantic
dance. Everyone wanted to join the frame. The crowd loved it.
After we came down, a man approached me; he said, “You’re incredible! I
need you for my events. Meet me after the show.”
Another mascot overheard and warned me later: “Don’t meet him.”
I asked, “Why not?”
He replied, “Because inside this costume is a struggling, helpless person.
If society sees that, they’ll feel pity instead of bliss when they see a mascot
next time.”
I protested, “I’m not helpless”
He laughed bitterly. “You’re dancing for three hours in this heat, hungry, at a stranger’s party, for ₹500—and you say you’re not helpless? You’re just naive.”
Saket had already drilled it into me: maintain the mystery and dignity of
the character. No one should know who’s inside. I respected that and stayed
anonymous.
That first day I broke four or five rules—no training, pure beginner’s chaos.
To the team, I was a disaster. As Saket left, he said, “We met today. Let’s
never meet again. You spoke when you shouldn’t, roamed when you should’ve stood
still, danced wildly when you should’ve just waved, and let kids near the
costume when you should’ve kept them away. Everything you did was the opposite
of what was asked.”
I had entertained the crowd more than any other mascot—yet I was
effectively fired. In the end, they paid all the other mascots 750 rupees, but
they paid me only 500 and said they would transfer the remaining 250 later
because they didn’t have the change. I knew that day I had been fired, so I
also knew I would never receive the remaining 250 rupees. My motto was to gain
experience—and I got it—so I let the balance go.
Mascot Fired, Joker Freelance
Undeterred, I kept calling events the next day, but daily gigs were scarce.
So, I decided to go freelance. I visited Dadar’s cloth market, bought bright
yellow fabric, and had a proper joker costume stitched by a tailor in Nerul.
Then I began promoting myself on classified sites and social media.
Last time, I had created a massage therapist profile on a classified site,
but because I forgot the ID and password, I couldn’t delete it for months.
Learning from that mistake, when I later made a Joker profile for freelance
work, I carefully saved the login details. This allowed me to delete it easily
after five months, once the gig was done. In those two months of freelance
joker work, I earned 30,000 rupees.
Boss Wanted Control, I Wanted Chaos
By then, I no longer needed more training to perform as a joker, so, I
applied for a full-time position as an experienced joker at Clone Event
Company. During the interview, they gave me a mascot costume to wear and asked
me to walk around. My movements made the staff burst into laughter. Then the
boss asked, “Why do you want to remain a joker?” I replied honestly, “To make
the world laugh through silly antics on stage—running around, falling, crying,
laughing, slipping, and acting scared for no reason, all to display pure
foolishness.”
The boss said, “I’ll call and let you know.” I knew right away that I
wouldn’t get the job.
One staff member had been laughing the hardest at my performance. I asked
him, “Why do you think the boss rejected me?” He replied, “The boss wants
someone who can act like a joker—you are a real joker.” I said, “Isn’t that a
good thing?” He explained, “An artist who acts mad on stage can be controlled.
A truly mad artist cannot. You’re the latter—you’ll naturally add your own
innovative twists to the act, and the boss has already sensed that.”
That conversation made everything clear. I decided to quit joker work
altogether. I deleted all my joker profiles from the internet and social media.
Then I shifted focus and began searching for a reputable astrology school that
taught complete, in-depth astrology without holding anything back.
I Was Gandharva Vinod, Not Joker
When a real clown can’t get a job, but someone who isn’t actually a clown
can get the job by acting like one — this thought was creating confusion for me
between illusion and reality. Whenever I can’t understand the difference
between illusion and reality, I take advice from Ganesh. There is another mind
within me, and its name is Ganesh.
Kedi: Even though I am a real clown, why wasn’t I given the job?
Ganesh: You weren’t a clown; you had become Gandharva Vinod.
Kedi: What is Gandharva Vinod?
Ganesh: There are eight sub-types in the Gandharva category. One of them is
Vinod, which tries to make people laugh by doing foolish things.
Kedi: Is Gandharva Vinod still inside me?
Ganesh: When you started self-reflection, Gandharva Vinod left your body.
Kedi: When did Vinod enter my body?
Ganesh: When you were choosing a new profession, Gandharva Vinod believed
that the way you act foolishly, you would surely choose the profession of a
clown. The moment you heard “joker” and felt the desire to become one, Vinod
entered your body again.
Creator Meets Character
Kedi: If Gandharva Vinod is not inside me now and I am no longer a real
clown, can I get a clown job now?
Ganesh: You could get it, but you wouldn’t do it. Right now, you only want
to become an astrologer.
Kedi: Why wouldn’t I do it? I want to work as a clown once.
Ganesh: That’s not you speaking; that’s your failure speaking. It isn’t
necessary to succeed at everything. A lion remains a lion even if it loses a
race of speed. Losing in one field doesn’t change you. But if you leave your
own race and run in someone else’s race to prove yourself successful, you’ll
never succeed and never find your real existence.
Kedi: If I wasn’t meant to become a clown, then who gave me the desire to
become one?
Ganesh: You didn’t become a clown to earn money, but to experience the
character of Gandharva Vinod. As soon as you completed that experience, your
destiny took away your desire to become a clown and awakened the desire to
become an astrologer again.
Kedi: So can’t I ever act foolish like a clown again?
Ganesh: A clown only makes people laugh by acting foolishly. You make
people laugh with your foolishness and also ring the bell in their minds. You
don’t need to become a clown — you are a clown by birth who can turn knowledge
into a joke and a joke into knowledge. A clown is just a character; you are the creator of
that character.
One Entry Could End the Story
Kedi: Will I feel the desire to experience all the Ganas by knowing them?
Ganesh: You can’t experience all the Ganas, but you can meet them and
understand their personalities and desires.
Kedi: Why can’t I invite all 108 Ganas into my body and experience them?
Ganesh: If that happened, seeing your financial condition, Chandala Betal
would enter your body and push you toward suicide. If you committed suicide at
the very first entry, how would you experience the remaining 107 Ganas? Nectar
must be tasted by yourself, and poison should be made to be tasted by the
enemy.
Conclusion: Parmeshwar First Ganapati has created 8 forms of Gandharva Gana
on earth. The definition of the word “Gandharva” is “species of spirits who
descend into the human body and make them great craftsmen, painters, musicians,
film directors, actors, clowns, poets, and writers are called Gandharva Gana.”
Vishwakarma, Chitralekh, Chitrasen, Chitrangad, Natki, Vinod, Hansa, and
Vasu—these are 8 forms of Gandharva Gana. Species of spirits who descend into
the human body and make them great clowns are called Gandharva Vinod.
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