Watch the kids at Kovai Bookalatta react to Harish Bhuvan and you understand why he does what he does. First, curious onlookers watch Raju Dayapuri paint the make-up onto Harish’s face. Then, as Harish walks around in his baggy trousers, they follow him around giggling at his jokes.

At his session, he asks for help to remove the mike from its stand and finishes with the wire wrapped around him. The kids are rolling on the floor, clutching their tummies.

This is not his first performance in the city, he says, when he takes a few minutes off. “I was travelling around the country and stopped at a government school to perform.” Slowly, as he warms up, he becomes more chatty.

Harish is the founder of Compassionate Clowns, described on its FB page as “a bunch of people who love clowning around in hospital to spread joy in the lives of others.”

Harish explains that he was in severe depression — “related to hospitals and cancer” — and wanted to get out of it. “I had anti-depressants and sleeping pills but didn’t want to take them. My mentor once told me that the best way to get joy in life was to do seva (service). And so I started doing that.”

But why only hospitals? “I am scared s**t of hospitals,” he smiles. “Apart from the cancer-related reason, I had an auto-immune disorder as a kid. So, in my subconscious, the smell of the hospital, the white uniform of the nurses, the doctor’s coat… lingers; it’s a fear deep within me.”

Also the reason for his depression was associated with hospitals and so he wanted to do something with them. His first attempt cannot even be called clowning, he says, “it was more buffoonery but eventually I saw a smile in the ward and knew I had to do this.”

He kept at it, training himself, and “here I am six years later,” he laughs. “I’m still nervous and anxious about going into a hospital but seeing those children is rewarding; it gives me a thrill. Despite the challenges, I love what I do.”

His challenges are partly to do with funds and partly volunteers. “We don’t charge the hospitals for what we do and we don’t do fund raising. Of course there are nominal costs involved.” To him, the bigger challenge is to get volunteers. “We don’t ask people for their money; just their time.”

Of course, in these six years, Compassionate Clowns has built what he calls “an alumni” who appraise him of various opportunities. “But I can’t be everywhere. That’s another challenge.” Bangalore and Vadodara are his constants and he is looking to open chapters in other cities, including Coimbatore, which he assures me, will start soon.

Ask him to describe what he thinks of clowning, he pauses, then speaks slowly and reflectively: It is the act of putting on clothes you are comfortable in, a little face paint — not too much, he cautions, you don’t want to trigger Coulrophobia or fear of clowns — and just being you. “If you are good at singing, do a sing along. If you dance well, dance with them. Under the umbrella of clowning, you can be anyone and anything.”

What is he then? “Myself,” he smiles. “Once I wear a clown’s mask, I shed all my other masks.” At my startled look, he explains, “I wear a mask before my parents, my friends, my colleagues… but, when clowning, I am me.”

His favourite memory has to do with a young malnourished child that he met in a Hyderabad hospital. “He was in the intensive care unit. His bones were this thin (he holds out his little finger); you could see his collar bones jutting out. There was one pipe down his nose, another taped to his arm….”

On the first visit, the boy just held on to Harish’s hand and asked him to leave the slinky springs behind. “When I went back the next week,” Harish still sounds pleased, “he was trying to play with one hand, because the other had the intravenous tubes and a clamp to keep it in place. I offered my hand and we played. The third week, he wanted a Rubik’s Cube. By the fourth week, the tubes had been removed, he was eating and drinking. I taught him the yen vazhi thani vazhi Rajinikanth dialogue in Telugu.” A reminiscent smile lights up his face.

His future plans include opening a clowning centre in hospitals, fellowship programmes for fresh graduates, a plan to take care of the mental health of healthcare providers… “We want compassion, gratitude, kindness and caring to be imbibed as life skills and not as a means to an end.”