Mullozhanov, 43, known as Clown Nurik for the last 27 years, is sitting in a small underground pub, hidden at the back end of a Soviet-looking gastronom. He is well-built and tall, his graying hair is tied into a ponytail, and he speaks quietly and smiles sadly.
“In the circus I’m a funny clown, but I am calm in the real life,” he says. “It’s hard to be bouncy all the time.”
Although for most people the word clown is synonymous with carefree living and laughter, it’s an enormously difficult way to make a living, Mullozhanov says. And not just because you have to make 2,000 people laugh at the same time.