24 June 2018
We did not have too much of a plan for the morning.
Originally, we had thought of doing a half-day Toledo tour as Murthy chittappa
had said that we could go for a sword-making demonstration at Toledo. We found
no such activity on offer among the advertised tours, and Toledo would be
another historic city with a monastery, cathedral and synagogue as key attractions.
So, we decided to skip it. Mishti was given the reins and she came up with a
shopping tour plan. After breakfast, we headed to Gran Via. Mishti explored the
shops there while Murthy chittappa and I spent time at the Starbucks. Then we
walked towards Puerta del Sol. Even in the morning, this place was highly
active. There were some interesting shops on the footpath selling old
keychains, notes, coins, stamps etc – which would have delighted any collector.
After that, Mishti grabbed something to eat from KFC (while Murthy chittappa
and I got some snacks and drinks for lunch) and we headed back to the hotel. We
rested for a few hours and left the hotel again at half past five for the key
activity of the trip – watching a Spanish bullfighting game.
We took the Metro line from San Bernardo to Ventas and
reached just after 6 pm. As soon as we got out of the station, we saw the
stadium and some stalls outside. There were lots of people there which told us
we were in the right place. We had to walk a short distance to collect our
pre-booked tickets and then we went inside. We had read a little bit about it
but largely did not know what to expect.
The set-up
When we got to our seat, we saw that the bullring itself is
not very large and the views from any seat are quite close. It is also
circular, and unlike tennis or cricket there are no vantage points. The main
price differentiator for the tickets is sun vs shade. We had the cheaper
tickets (20 euros each) which were at the sunny side, but it was only a mild
discomfort. By 7.30 pm the shade would expand and engulf us too. Mishti and I
got the leather saddles for 1.2 euros each, to keep our bums cool (the seats
were otherwise just the granite rows with no cushions).
At 7pm on the dot, the drums started playing. There was a
ceremony accompanied by band music with the matadores, their assistants, horses
etc. Each matador has six assistants — two picadores ("lancers")
mounted on horseback, three banderilleros ("flagmen"), and
a mozo de espada ("sword servant"). Collectively
they compose a cuadrilla or team of bullfighters. The crew
also includes an ayuda (aide to sword servant) and subalternos (subordinates)
including at least two peones (pages, singular peón).
And then it was time for the games (if you can call it that) to begin. I tensed
up a bit.
A person displayed a number and a date. 572 and Oct 2012. The weight of the bull in kg and its birthdate. A black bull was let into the ring. There was applause everywhere. The first few seconds thereon will remain etched in my memory. The bull was confused and looking around, wondering what was going on. Then the performers started to wave their capes. They were pink. But apparently it is not the colour of the cape (bulls are colour blind and attack moving objects), but its movement which agitates the bull. The bull started running in its direction at full speed and they kept dodging it. Sometimes narrowly. It was a strong and healthy bull and this part was fun to watch. At this stage, the matador observes how the bull charges as capes are thrust by the banderilleros. He also notes vision problems, unusual head movements, or if the bull favors a part of the ring called a querencia, or territory. A bull trying to reach its querencia is often more dangerous than a bull that is attacking the cape directly.
Act I
Then the trumpets sounded. This is a highly ritualised
sport. There are three distinct stages in each fight and the start of each is
sounded by a trumpet. The first stage is called tercio de varas ("part
of lances"). Two picadores, mounted on horses, entered the arena, each
armed with a lance or vara. The horses had thick padding. They
were also blindfolded. The performers with their rags led the bull in the
direction of one of the horses and encouraged it to attack the horse. The horse
moved slightly and the bull made a charge for it. With all its might it tried
to topple the horse. This was becoming difficult to watch. And then almost
unbearable as the picadore inserted his lance into its neck and blood started
oozing out. The bull’s first loss of blood. The black bull was quickly
accumulating a patch of red along its neck. The performers then distracted it
away from the horse. The die was loaded against the bull and I felt sorry for
it. They kept flashing the rag and it kept charging for it in spite of obvious
pain and oozing blood.
Act II
In the next stage called tercio de banderillas ("part
of banderillas"), the three banderilleros each attempt to plant two barbed
sticks (banderillas, literally "little flags" as they are
decorated with paper in the local colors) in the bull's shoulders. These
further weaken the enormous ridges of neck and shoulder muscle (which set fighting bulls apart from ordinary
cattle) through loss of blood, while also frequently spurring the bull into
making more ferocious charges. By this point the bull has lost a significant
amount of blood and is exhausted. The matador then enters with his cape and
sword, tiring the bull further with several runs at the cape. There were one or
two close shaves but with the number of outs and back-ups the performers had,
the bull did not have a fighting chance. It was doomed from the start. More
blood. More charging. More panting. More disorientation.
Act III
In the final stage, the tercio de muerte ("part
of death"), the matador re-enters the ring alone with a small red cape
or muleta in one hand and a sword in
the other. The red cape at this stage is a matter of tradition, and apparently
used so that blood stains will be less noticeable). This cape is stretched with
a wooden dowel and, in right-handed passes, the sword as
well. Having dedicated the bull to an individual or the whole
audience, the matador uses his cape to attract the bull in a series of passes,
both demonstrating his control over it and risking his life by getting especially
close to it.
Playing out of a tragedy within a tightly ritualized art form
There was no commentary. No continuous music (just occasional drums or trumpets to signal a new phase in the fight). There was sporadic applause but other than that the whole experience was raw. It was just man vs beast, and although physically much stronger the beast stood no chance. As one article puts it: "It was never an equal contest, simply the 'playing out of a tragedy' within a tightly ritualized art form."
The part which made me feel was most cruel was that the bull
never once tried to attack the man. Always charging against the rag even when
the man holding it was so close. It was like kicking the weak in the guts. The
bull was weakened through a series of steps. The men did not just have an edge,
they had swords. Feeling sorry for the bleeding bull that seemed to pose little
threat to the humans was natural. When the crowd cheered, we were not sure if
they were rooting for the bull or the matador. I was rooting for the bull, not
because it was the underdog (by a margin) but because what was going on seemed
inhumane and unjust.
The matador dangled the cape close to the bull and made a
series of synchronised moves. The bull was weak and panting by now, but still
charging for the cape. It was obvious that it would keep fighting till the
gruesome end. That was its nature.
There was a final series of passes in which the matador with
the muleta (small red cape) attempted to manoeuvre the bull into a position to
stab it between the shoulder blades and through the aorta or heart. In the end,
a few more stabs later, the bull buckled down. When it had fallen, there was a
final stab to kill it as the spectators roared their approval. This is the coup
de grâce which is administered by a peón named a puntillero,
using a dagger to further pierce the spinal cord – so that the bull dies
quickly.
There was blood on the sand as the bull got dragged out by a
team of mules. It was not pretty and I felt sorry. I thought to myself
that I will never watch this sport again. I wish they could have made this
sport less cruel. I read that a distinct type of bloodless
bullfighting is practised in California's Central Valley. In this historically Portuguese-settled area, a form of bullfight
has developed in which the bull is taunted by a matador, but the lances are
tipped with velcro and aimed at velcro patches secured to the bull's
shoulder.
The same charade was repeated 5 more times. There were 6
bulls killed in the evening. In a traditional corrida (bullfighting
is known as corrida de toros which translates to running of
the bulls), three matadores each fight two out of a total of six fighting bulls, each of which is at least
four years old and weighs up to about 600 kg. It was largely repetitive as
all the sequences are orchestrated in a ritualised way. The art of dodging and
stabbing the bull grew into its present form around 1724, and matadors today
still cling to a traditionally strict code of conduct. There were some close
shaves. Once the matador fell down and before the bull could charge at him
the other performers quickly entered and distracted the bull. One of the bulls
gave a tough fight and had blood dripping from its mouth. There were white
kerchiefs being waved by the spectators when this was killed, meaning that its
ear had to be cut as a trophy. (If at least half of the spectators petition the
presidente by waving handkerchiefs, the presidente is obliged to award the
matador with one ear of the bull.)
With each subsequent bull, we were getting more
desensitized. My heart did not bleed as much for the second as the first and
for the third as much as the second. We knew what to expect. This also felt a bit
scary because it shows how gullible the human mind is. This is why I resolved
that I will never again watch this sport.
After three bulls we were ready to leave but a part of us was
also curious to see if anything changed. Nothing did but we sat through the
whole show which finished at 9.30 pm after 6 bulls were killed.
I was reading a bit more about the sport on the internet.
Apparently, the three main qualities to be a good matador are fearlessness,
coordination and gracefulness. Also, if a bull has survived, then they never
bring a bull again into the ring because it will behave differently based on
its past experience. When a bull comes into the bullring, the first few seconds
are used to check if it has faulty vision and whether it aims for the cape or the
territory. If it aims for the territory, it is more dangerous. Although it is a
dangerous and gruelling sport for the matadors, nothing is left to chance.
The other thing I observed is that you cannot change your
nature. The bull keeps going for the moving cape right until the end. It does
not think of another strategy. It does not even realise that the villain is the
person waving the cape. It reminds me of this story of a scorpion and a frog.
One day, a scorpion stood on the side of a stream and
asked a frog to carry it to the other side. ‘How do I know you won’t sting me?’
the frog asked. ‘Because if I sting you, I’ll drown,’ the scorpion said.
The frog thought about it and realized that the scorpion
was right. So he put the scorpion on his back and started ferrying him. But
midway across the stream, the scorpion plunged its stinger into the frog’s
back. As they both began to drown, the frog gasped, ‘Why?’
The scorpion replied, ‘Because it is my nature.’
This was easily the most gory sport I have ever witnessed.
The most graphic expression of the idiom ‘death by a thousand cuts.’
We took the metro back and had dinner at Delhi restaurant
which is close to our hotel. Mishti and I shared a butter chicken which was
good, and Murthy chittappa simply had the paapad and a beer. We
discussed what we had seen and shared our thoughts, which were not very
dissimilar.
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