My introduction to the book Natyacharya Sisir Kumar Bhaduri: Pioneer of Modern Indian Theatre by Amal Mitra (New Delhi: Niyogi Books, 2018):
Public knowledge about Indian theatre history is sadly deficient, caused by a systemic failure to sensitize and educate people about our arts in general, as well as the prevalent misconception that theatre in our country matured and became modern only after Independence. Consequently, if the lay reader knows anything at all about the pioneers and pillars of the Indian stage, these are likely to be post-1947 personalities such as Sombhu Mitra, Habib Tanvir, Ebrahim Alkazi et al. The fact that nineteenth- and early twentieth-century giants like Bharatendu Harishchandra, Girish Chandra Ghosh or B. P. Kirloskar shaped modern theatre in their respective languages, and how they did so, remains neglected, especially in international, national or non-regional mediums like English. The contribution of Sisir Kumar Bhaduri falls under this eclipse, his work “as the first director proper in modern Indian theatre”[1] largely unknown. No book exists in English devoted to his career and achievements.[2] This one, therefore, marks a significant breakthrough.
I shall very briefly define here the main reasons for bestowing that prestigious laurel on Sisir Bhaduri. First, as a student and then college teacher of English in Calcutta during the second decade of the century, he kept abreast of the latest trends on the British stage, importing them into Bengali theatre and thereby continuing its development from the 1920s onward. This statement requires some explanation. One could argue that awareness of foreign theatre was nothing special at that time, given that most of Indian theatre drew heavily from its visual grandeur and latest technology. But we must differentiate between that populist and commercial phenomenon, and Bhaduri’s more academic and “serious” explorations. The theory and practice of modernistic realism had been established by Ibsen and Stanislavsky in European “little theatres” or art theatres by 1900; but it had not been accepted by the Indian stage at all, which preferred the older melodramatic style that clicked at the box office. Professional Indian producers had no use for restrained and non-musical social realism, nor did they think that in-depth study and research had any place in public entertainment.
Bhaduri changed that approach. Consciously attempting to reform the commercial Bengali stage, he incorporated the new techniques in his productions. He began to ignore the standard Victorian lush mise-en-scene framed by wings at the sides, and encouraged artists like Charu Roy to design box sets and zonal lighting. He directed his actors in psychological naturalism, away from the conventional extravagance and rhetorical flourish. These innovations drew a different section of Calcutta’s population into playhouses: the intellectuals and those of refined taste, who had abjured the “cheap” theatrics of Bhaduri’s precursors but appreciated his changes and campaigned for him in their own writings. The most illustrious example proving this transformation lies in the conversion of Rabindranath Tagore. He gave Bhaduri exclusive permission to stage his revolutionary masterpiece Rakta-karavi (Red Oleander), even before it was published, and the production was eagerly anticipated by the press in 1924-25 but, unfortunately, it never materialized.[3]
Nonetheless, Tagore’s close theatrical relationship with Bhaduri continued, and Amal Mitra devotes a full chapter to it. Allow me to quote in short from my own book on Tagore:
“Tagore generally avoided contact with the Bengali professional stage because it really had nothing to offer him; its dependence on commercial success precluded any attempts at experimentation, and Tagore justifiably had no wish to compromise his dramatic principles. … [However, he] held Bhaduri’s talents as director and actor in special regard, and at the latter’s request he revised one of his earlier farces, renaming it Sesh Raksha, for performance by Natyamandir. Bhaduri’s production on 7 September 1927 was a spectacular event, notable historically for the first use of audience participation on the Bengali stage: Bhaduri broke the proscenium barrier between stage and auditorium, and in the final scene invited the spectators to join the wedding festivities in the play. The house responded with great enthusiasm, singing along with the marriage songs and intermingling with the cast on stage in celebration of the happy ending. Inspired by this smash success Bhaduri tried his hand at a complex Tagore play, Tapati, staging it on 25 December 1929.”[4]
Besides this understanding of cutting-edge original drama, Bhaduri shared with his great predecessor, Girish Ghosh, a quality that set them apart from most of the rest of their tribe. Furthermore, given the conditions of Bengali theatre today, one can observe that this important trait in the two of them is sorely lacking in the majority of present Bengali directors. Because of their open mind to theatre from all over the world, Ghosh and Bhaduri, particularly the latter, used to regularly frequent performances by visiting foreign companies in Calcutta. For a theatre artist, it is imperative to know the international state of the art from firsthand experience rather than simply literature or hearsay. I do not find this desire as evident as it should be in contemporary Bengali directors and theatre workers, as a result of which the movement has grown progressively insular and even dated, alienating younger viewers too. Bhaduri demonstrated a much more liberal attitude that amounted to what we call cosmopolitanism nowadays.
An interesting intercultural encounter, though ultimately not very positive, occurred in Bhaduri’s career that deserves attention here before the reader goes on to Amal Mitra’s account of it in this book. A British actor, Eric Elliott, had come to Calcutta and seen Bhaduri’s production of Sita.[5] He was impressed enough to want Bhaduri’s company to perform in the West. With the active help of Satu Sen, a Bengali student who had become assistant director-manager of the famous American Laboratory Theatre in New York and later joined the National School of Drama in New Delhi as its first Director, Elliott managed to organize funds for Natyamandir’s trip to New York in 1930. Bhaduri led seven performances of Sita at the Vanderbilt Theatre on Broadway in January 1931. The unfamiliar play and style received mixed reviews, the praise no doubt influenced by the exotica of the content. Mitra reprinted the opinions of one critic comparing Bhaduri very favourably with the legendary Chinese actor Mei Lanfang, who had performed in New York the previous year. I excerpt below a representative paragraph that Mitra excluded from another review that he extracted:
“The acting differed sometimes from the Western Style, and so did the overhead lighting and the music — yet it was all effective. If theatre-goers desire to see a drama that will take them far away from Broadway, here is their opportunity.”[6]
Historically, Bhaduri’s venture was important as possibly the earliest instance of an Indian production touring the USA. Before that, only one Parsi company from Bombay, the Victoria Theatrical Company, is known to have played in London, at the colonial exhibition in 1885. Mitra tells us that Bhaduri even received an invitation to go to the USSR following good reports from Russians who viewed his acting in Calcutta, but he was unable to take up the offer.
In the year of Bhaduri’s death, 1959, the Government of India announced the award of the nation’s third highest civilian decoration, the Padma Bhushan, to him. Most Indians would be proud to accept such an honour, but Bhaduri declined it. This action shows his courage to stand up for what he believed. He refused the award because the country had not given its people a national theatre, which Bhaduri had espoused strongly. His argument during the 1950s for such an institution has become the stuff of legend in theatrical circles, but few Indians have access to the text today. The editor of the present book has most helpfully provided in an appendix Bhaduri’s response in the form of an article to questions about the national theatre, which will help scholars and researchers.
A final word about the impeccable credentials of the author: Amal Mitra’s scholarship on theatre is recognized in Bengali, but his popular writings in English based on the material he collected are less well known.[7] Thanks to the editor, Lab Kumar Bose, Mitra’s articles on Bhaduri printed in Calcutta’s now defunct English daily The Hindustan Standard have been preserved and made available at last. Otherwise they would have suffered the fate of so much valuable, uncatalogued, periodical literature in India — lost like the proverbial needles in a haystack in our musty, disorganized libraries and archives or, worse, so brittle that they disintegrate irretrievably.
ANANDA LAL
Professor
Jadavpur University
[1] Swapan Majumdar, “Bhaduri, Sisir Kumar”, in Ananda Lal, ed., The Oxford Companion to Indian Theatre (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2004), 46.
[2] Among chapters in the few English books on Bengali theatre, the one on Bhaduri by Kironmoy Raha in Bengali Theatre (New Delhi: National Book Trust, 1993), 102-126, is the most informative. The award-winning Bengali author Sunil Gangopadhyay also wrote a novel on Bhaduri available in English as “The Lonely Emperor”, in Classic Sunil Gangopadhyay, translated by Aruna Chakravarti and Sreejata Guha (New Delhi: Penguin, 2013).
[3] Rabindranath Tagore, Three Plays, translated and with an introduction by Ananda Lal, 2nd ed. (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2001), 130.
[4] Tagore, Three Plays, trans. Lal, 38-39.
[5] Sushil Kumar Mukherjee, The Story of the Calcutta Theatres: 1753-1980 (Calcutta: K. P. Bagchi, 1982), 199-200. An actor by the name of Eric Elliott did perform occasionally in London during the 1920s. However, Mitra says Elliott was a Flight Lieutenant in the Royal Air Force.
[6] Stephen Rathburn, “Oriental Classic”, New York Sun, 13 January 1931. Quoted in Mukherjee, 201-2. But see Mukherjee, 202-3, for two highly negative reviews that appeared in the New York Times and The World.
[7] For another collection, see Amal Mitra, English Stage in India: 18th & 19th Century, ed. Lab Kumar Bose (Kolkata: Dasgupta & Co., 2012).