Inside a danseuse's world

Dance of Freedom

At 94, she has a remarkable memory. Lines of poems, songs and events from various vantage points of the past come easily to her as she reminisces about the years gone by. Talking to Amala Shankar is an education in itself. It provides a link to the pre-Independence generation, which contributed in ways big and small to bring India her freedom, and helped to build a political and cultural space that could be termed Indian.

This famous dancer teamed up with Uday Shankar, a brilliant dancer and choreographer — incidentally, the elder brother of the late sitar maestro, Ravi Shankar — and mesmerised audiences at home and abroad with expositions of Indian dance. A film, Kalpana (1948), featuring both of them dancing together, was screened at the Cannes Film Festival in 2012, as it had been restored by Martin Scorsese’s World Cinema Foundation. Amala Shankar was an honoured guest at that screening, receiving a standing ovation.

Born in 1919 in the small village of Batajor in Jessore district — now in Bangladesh — Shankar can clearly recall the passion and excitement of the Independence movement. “My father, Akshay Kumar Nandy, my uncle, and in fact, all the elders in our extended family were staunch swadeshis (nationalists),” she says. An early introduction to the implications of the freedom movement came home to her when she saw her father exhorting women to break the glass bangles they were wearing. Since married Bengali women were not supposed to leave their wrists bare, he presented them with bangles made of German silver. “Since the glass bangles were made in England, my father did not want anyone to sport them, and thus encourage trade in British goods,” says Shankar. 

Among the materials proscribed was imported salt. In 1930, Gandhi initiated the Dandi Salt March in Gujarat; a civil disobedience action against the British, as a mark of protest against their imposition of a salt tax on Indians. 

She reminisces, “Father made us collect old bricks from dilapidated houses, bricks that were already disintegrated because of the moisture caused by our humid climate. These were then broken down. Using alum, the salt was strained out from the bricks and used in the house. We, children, participated in all this with enthusiasm.”

Similarly, on days when Gandhi began one of his many fasts in protest against British subjugation, the kitchen stoves at home would not be lit. As a man of staunch principles, Nandy inspired his children, and his ideas of freedom percolated to them. Remarks Shankar proudly, “Today, whatever I am I owe to my father, and his teachings and ideals.” 

In 1916, her father had opened a small jewellery shop in north Calcutta. To make gold jewellery more affordable for women who were not wealthy, he devised trinkets with copper, topped with gold. In 1924, the British government was organising an international exhibition at Wembley and wished to showcase the handicrafts of its many colonies. Shankar’s father was invited by the British government to demonstrate the highly developed art of jewellery making in Bengal. But he refused to partake of the government’s hospitality. Instead, he used his resources and participated in the exhibition as an individual. He also discovered an ingenuous way to pack his exhibits for the event. He cushioned them with khoi — puffed rice! It worked as well as thermocol packing. 

“In those days, he made Rs 35,000 selling all the things he had carried along. And the khoi served as elephant food!” Shankar recalls with a twinkle in her eyes.

Shankar’s father was a man of many parts. He propagated women’s education, and had even arranged the remarriage of a widow in his village. A magazine called Matri Mandir, which he edited, provided women of the time who aspired to write a rare opportunity to get published. “Many litterateurs in Bengal, who later became well-known, like Radharani Devi and others, told me that it was this exposure that encouraged them to become writers,” Shankar elaborates.

The liberal views expounded by Nandy extended to other religions too. “While we were still living in the village, my father would take us all to Calcutta on festive occasions. During Christmas, we would have a Christmas tree in our house. On the occasion of Eid, we would all be bundled into the first tram in the morning to reach a venue near the Victoria Memorial. The maidan adjacent to it would host a huge Eid prayer congregation,” recalls Shankar.

All these experiences helped the family to be open to other cultures. “We were never taught to look on people from other cultural or religious backgrounds with disdain or hatred,” Shankar emphasises. 

She regrets the intolerance and lack of idealism that marks contemporary times and lays the blame for this firmly on the lack of good political leadership and the strong inculcation of values within the home. 

Later, in 1931, Shankar’s father went to participate in an international exhibition being held in Paris, France, where the colonies of various European countries showcased their indigenous expertise and diversity. Twelve-year-old Shankar was taken along. It was in Paris that she saw Uday Shankar dance for the first time. “It was a divine experience. I was so proud to be an Indian!” she exclaims.

That meeting led her to join Uday Shankar’s dance troupe and later become his wife. Together, they opened a dance academy at Almora in the Garhwal hills. Their productions became famous and attracted a distinguished audience. The unique personal and cultural partnership forged by Uday and Amala Shankar, as well as other like-minded artistes, helped lay the cultural foundations of a post-Independence India.