Calcutta recently saw a campaign that demanded a theatre named after Nati Binodini, the prima donna of Bengali stage in its early years. A theatre named after her was something Binodini had always wanted but never got.

Binodini is not remembered very well despite her stature. Even less remembered are the actresses who were her contemporaries or came later, till the talkies took over. But they played their part in shaping Bengali theatre, something which is often overshadowed by the legacy of legendary male figures such as Girish Chandra Ghosh and Ardhendusekhar Mustafi.

In facing the “footlight”, these women also displayed uncommon courage. Since “respectable” women would not be allowed on stage when public theatre started in the 1870s, all the actresses were recruited from the red light area. This practice continued for the next three decades at the very least.

Art brought to the women’s lives an inescapable duality. As long as they were acting, they were someone else, yet, by being on stage, they were also identifying themselves in public. In her autobiographies, Binodini affirms this duality, apologising constantly and profusely for her birth and castigating herself; but one cannot overlook her pride in her performances. Theatre liberated her and allowed her to be part of a community of women tied to each other through friendship, rivalry, talent and fame, and were shining presences, despite their personal circumstances, which were often tragic.

Binodini was introduced to the stage by Gangamani, a courtesan, who eventually became a famous singer at Star Theatre. They called each other “Golap”, the ritual shared name indicating a close, loving friendship between two women. From the time she was seven or eight, Binodini was trained in music by Gangamani, who took her to the Great National Theatre, where she was paid Rs 10 per month.

Binodini’s first appearance on stage, when she was 11 years old, was in 1874, two years after the first performance of Bengali public theatre. What followed is well-documented, unlike the stories of most other actresses. In a decade or so, after which she would retire, Binodini became the biggest star. Her mentor was Girish Chandra, the first legend of modern Bengali theatre. Novelist Bankimchandra Chattopadhyay had remarked that Binodini brought to life his character Manorama (from his novel Mrinalini). Binodini’s greatest reward, however, was perhaps the blessing she received from the spiritual leader Sri Ramakrishna for playing the role of Sri Chaitanya. In her mind, that washed her mortal sins somewhat. Banabiharini, who played Nitai to Binodini’s Nimai, was known for her beautiful voice.

Just as she had walked into a theatre with Gangamani as a child, Binodini brought the seven-year-old Tarasundari to Star Theatre. Tarasundari was noticed soon, too, by Girish Chandra. On May 17, 1902, she dazzled at Aurora Theatre on Beadon Street as Rezia, in the play of the same name on the life of the 13th century monarch of Delhi, Razia Sultana, which was inspired by Walter Scott’s novel Kenilworth. In The Hindu Review, Bipin Chandra Pal wrote: “Reziya is one of the most complex characters met with in any literature... Tara’s rendering of Reziya has been declared by competent critics, who have seen the best European actresses, to be as good an achievement as the best rendering of Lady Macbeth by the most capable of English actresses...”

Another actress had played Lady Macbeth almost a decade before Tarasundari. On January 28, 1893, Minerva Theatre hosted Macbeth, translated into Bengali by Girish Chandra. Girish Chandra directed the play and played the lead, while Lady Macbeth was played by Tinkari. Tinkari had joined the stage at a very young age, after pleading with her mother for permission. But after a while her mother wanted Tinkari to turn to prostitution. At great cost, Tinkari kept acting, as she says in her autobiographical accounts.

She was striking as Jana and Lady Macbeth. The review of Macbeth in Indian Nation read: “It is impossible to say of a Shakespearean play that it has been acted to perfection, but we can say of this play that it was acted very well at the Minerva. The parts that were especially well done were those of Macbeth, of Lady Macbeth who had a Mrs Siddons-like appearance and of the Porter...”

At a programme in Calcutta featuring songs sung by women from early Bengali theatre, singer and scholar Devajit Bandyopadhyay, whose area of specialisation is Bengali theatre, presented, with Riddhi Bandyopadhyay, among many other memorable items, the witches’ song from Girish Chandra’s Macbeth. It is as robust and intriguing as the original and one wonders who the women were who played the witches.

Bandyopadhyay, who has written and edited several books on Bengali theatre, said his programme was “a tribute to the spirit of the women who stepped out of darkness, intothe limelight”.

Binodini was deeply sensitive and elegant, Tinkari specia-lised in intense roles and Tarasundari could handle both, said scholar and Sanskrit teacher Upendranath Bidyabhushan. Kusumkumari ushered in a special kind of jollity. In Alibaba, written by Khirodprasad Vidyavinod and directed by Amarendranath Dutta, she played Marjina, captivating the viewers with her beauty and her dancing and singing prowess. The play, which Amarendranath launched at Classic Theatre on November 20 in 1897, went on for years and was filmed in 1903. It has been over a century but still we have not gotten over the song: “Chhi chhi etta janjal...”

Kusumkumari is said to bethe first woman dance director on the Bengali stage. Sushilabala — known as “the divine Sushila” — also played memorable roles in Amarendranath’s productions.One of her famous contemporaries was Charusheela.

The very entry of women into Bengali public theatre was a flashpoint. The first women to enter the stage were Golap, Jagattarini,Elokeshi and Shyama, as partof Bengal Theatre. On August 16, 1873, two of them had performedin Michael Madhusudan Dutt’s play Sharmistha. Michael, impatient as always with social rigidity, had insisted on actresses performingas women in his play, instead of adult men, as was then the custom. The immediate effect was outrage.The Hindu Patriot wrote: “It is true professional women join the jatras and natches, but we had hoped managers of Bengali theatres would not bring themselves down to the level of the jatrawallas.”

Not that it stopped the women.

Golap reinvented herself as the brilliant Sukumari Datta, who wrote the autobiographical play Apurba Sati. The death of Girish Chandra in 1912 ended an epoch in Bengali theatre. After the war, from the 1920s, Sisir Kumar Bhaduri became the dominating presence in Bengali theatre. He introduced the actresses Prabhabati Debi and Kankabati Debi, who was Chandrabati Debi’s sister. Respectability began to seep in. Kankabati was the first woman graduate to join Bengali theatre. “She and someone like Sadhana Basu were exceptional. But things hadn’t really changed for women,” says Bandyopadhyay.

Technology, however, had. Recorded music was becoming popular when the illustrious singers, Indubala and Angurbala, debuted. They wrote their respective autobiographies. Indubala, a resident of Rambagan, known as a red light area, famously declared: “I am Indu from Rambagan. Here I have learnt music, established myself, and got respect.”