A middle-aged man sits on a low stool in front of his house in Tarakeswar in a narrow alley. The morning light shines through a thick fog. He starts putting make-up on his face while Bengali folk music plays in the background.

His children gather around him. A few seconds later, his daughter takes the make-up brush and starts painting her father’s face, after which he starts dressing. He puts on two false hands, a false tongue sticking out of his mouth and, slowly, transforms into the Hindu goddess Kali.

Tarakeswar is a small town in West Bengal, around 60km northwest of Kolkata, known for its Taraknath temple and a vibrant but dying community of bohurupis — performing artists who dress up as figures, mostly mythological.

The man in question is Ravi Pandit, a revered bohurupi from West Bengal and one of the subjects of filmmaker, thespian and playwright Rajaditya Banerjee’s new documentary, Dying Art of the Bohurupis of Bengal, which looks into the almost extinct art of polymorphism — the ability to take on many forms — and the lives of the polymorphic artists of the state.

The colourful, polymorphic actors who dress up and perform as mythological characters bring a unique vibrancy to the culture of rural West Bengal. But that culture is under threat from economic hardship and changing social trends. A documentary film explores this impending cultural loss

Banerjee, who earlier made Death Certificate, brings forth in his latest film the challenges in the lives of the polymorphic artists, at a time of increased consumption of fast and cheap entertainment through the internet.

“If the young generation of people do not take up this form, the entire tradition of bohurupis will be wiped away,” says Banerjee. “But how will they? They do not relate to the art form. Those who do, don’t earn enough. If something isn’t done soon, Bengal will lose a unique art form.”

Banerjee’s fascination with bohurupis

Bohurupis, the name they are known by in Bengal, practise a traditional performance art unique to the eastern states of India and known by various names. “The reason why I chose to make this film is because I witnessed a decline in the numbers of bohurupi artists in the state,” Banerjee says.

Banerjee’s father, Debashish Bandopadhyay was a famous litterateur, filmmaker and editor of Bengali children’s periodical Anandamela Patrika. He built a folk and tribal museum full of artefacts in the house Banerjee grew up in. Bandopadhyay also wrote books on Bengal’s culture. That’s where the filmmaker first learned about bohurupi neighbourhoods, such as Shitalgram in Birbhum, and their culture, which piqued his interest.

“I was always interested in making a film on the artists but, due to work and tight finances, I couldn’t address the topic till now. While shooting for Death Certificate and other films in several districts of Bengal, including Birbhum, Bankura, Murshidabad, Hooghly, Purulia and the like, I witnessed a huge decline in the numbers of bohurupis,” Banerjee recalls.

“In Birbhum district’s Shantiniketan, a famous tourist spot is the haat [local market] next to the Khoai river. One would see bohurupis performing in the haat, but now their numbers have dwindled.”

His worries are reflected in the film, where he follows and interviews multiple artists, ranging from young teens such as Rajesh Barman to legendary award-winning bohurupi Subaldas Bairagya, who once performed in Washington for then US President Ronald Reagan at the invitation of Rajiv Gandhi.

The precarity of the lives of these artists comes through in the movie, along with a nostalgia for a time when the art form was admired and respected. Historically, these bohurupis would dress up as Hindu gods or mythical characters such as Ram, Shiva, Kali and so on, and perform in front of kings and zamindars [land-owners].

“There is no documented history of bohurupis in West Bengal. We do not know exactly when this performance art started. It was mainly started to entertain kings as a community profession,” says Rajat Kanti Sur, a researcher in history associated with the Calcutta Research Group. Sur mainly studies the history and politics of performance artists such as the shangs in Kolkata or the nautankis in Bihar.

“We, however, see some evidence of bohurupis in Kolkata from the 1830s. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t exist before that,” Sur continues.

While researching for his film, Banerjee realised that the cause of this extinction is mainly the unwillingness of the younger generation to pick up the art form, often informed by their poverty.

“In a post-globalised India, people are too exposed to the internet, which provides cheap and fast entertainment,” he says. “This has taken a toll on the traditional art form. The young generation cannot relate to this. Their parents and grandparents might have been bohurupis, and some are still performing the art, but the younger generation cannot relate. They do not understand why they need to go and beg in trains or various fairs, walk for miles as mythical characters such as Ram, Kali, Shiva,” he adds.

Economic hardships have made the craft no longer viable

But many jaat bohurupis [generational artists] don’t want their children to pick up the art form. Rajendra Byadh from Birbhum’s Bishaypur village is encouraging his children to go to school, study and take up different kinds of jobs. “Poverty forced us to lead this life,” Byadh says in the film. “Now poverty is again forcing us to send our children to schools, so that they can pursue a different career.”

Most of the bohurupis interviewed in the film come from a low socio-economic background. Pandit, while narrating his life story in the film, recounts how, as a young man from a poor family, earning Indian 200 rupees a day by performing as mythical characters made his parents happy.

The scenario is completely different now. He has to work as a van driver and a mason to support his family, resulting in the separation of art and livelihood which, initially, were one and the same.

The film also captures some vibrant live performances, solo acts and group acts, which are gradually becoming rare because most bohurupis are now forced to perform as characters that are not familiar to them.

Sur says that religion was always closely related to their performances. As bohurupis perform mostly solo acts and their main goal is to earn money, dressing up as Hindu religious characters is helpful. If someone dresses up as Shiva and stands or performs in a market, people won’t chase them away as easily. Instead, they will give them some money.

“If you look carefully, you will see bohurupis mainly performing during religious festivals like Kali Pujo or near temples such as Kalighat, Dakshineswar, Tarapith or Tarakeswar,” Sur continues. “But nowadays, we see bohurupis performing in weddings to entertain guests. Here, however, they mostly dress up as Charlie Chaplin or Mahatma Gandhi. Colloquially, these characters are called ‘cartoons’. So bohurupis are now performing as cartoon characters.”

In the film, Banerjee interviews Nitai Malik, who was trained by legendary artiste Kalipada Pal Bohurupi. Malik is now forced to perform ‘cartoons’, as is Birbhum’s Uttam Mondol.

The precarity of the situation is resulting in widespread frustration within the bohurupi community. “Now the artists are frustrated and turning to alcoholism. Even kids are taking up drugs. You will see many kids at the station doing drugs.” Banerjee says. His film even shows a young bohurupi girl turning to drugs due to frustration and poverty.

Artists are fighting to keep the tradition alive

Despite the bleak scenario, some people are trying to keep the bohurupi tradition alive, like the sons of Bairagya, Byadh, Pandit and Bhanu Bohurupi. “But for how long? They are also getting old. If the young generation doesn’t come forward and revive the dying art, then a whole chapter of Bengal’s tradition will be wiped away,” the filmmaker laments.

Bairagya, who inspired the filmmaker with his love and respect for the art of bohurupis, tried to open an academy for them, where future artists would be trained. But he did not get the funds from the government, and his dream of consolidating the art and artists never materialised. The septuagenarian now takes comfort in the fact that his son and grandchildren are continuing the tradition.

There are some civil society initiatives that help bohurupis, but they are not overarching. For example, when Kamal Mete, who plays at the Srijani village near Shantiniketan, lost his daughter due to kidney failure, some civil society members helped him. But there is no coalition of such artists. The lack of solidarity among them due to the scarcity of resources also results in jealousy, competition and alienation, as explained by Banerjee.

The West Bengal government gives a 1,000 rupees allowance to bohurupis every month, but there is a cloud over how many of them get it. Banerjee too found that arranging for funds to pay bohurupis was a challenge.

“These kinds of topics hardly interest producers. I have a theatre group in Finland and we had to collect money by doing shows and also by using the royalties I earned by writing plays,” Banerjee says.

Apart from the financial challenges, the team also faced obstruction from artists themselves, who were initially very sceptical and did not want to give the filmmaker access. Many people come from cities to work with them or research them without providing any recognition or causing any material improvement to their lives. It took the team two-and-a-half years to get an interview with Bairagya, for instance.

“I remember once, we asked one artist to show us the certificates he got for his performances,” remembers Banerjee. “Suddenly, rumours spread that we are trying to steal their certificates and sell them for crores. After a long conversation, they understood that we are not going to misuse them.” He adds: “We are responsible for their scepticism, as we have deceived them over the years.”

Banerjee finished the 90-minute film after three years. It talks about poverty, caste questions, sexual orientation, the absence of women performers, children turning to drugs and so on. However, the main thread that binds the film together is the anxiety over the extinction of this unique art form.

Banerjee wants to show the documentary at multiple film festivals in India and across the globe. He also plans to go to villages and rent halls to project it for bohurupi artists themselves. “I want to share this film with folk artists around the world. The challenge faced by them is universal, though it is very acute here in Bengal,” Banerjee points out.

The writer is an independent journalist and researcher based in Kolkata
By arrangement with The Wire

Published in Dawn, ICON, January 23rd, 2022