The mercury had touched 44 degrees Celsius and there was no comfort even from the pedestal fans, which seemed to emanate hot air inside the tent. Amidst the crowd a man stood still, not even batting an eyelid or perspiring.

Painted in silver-grey and with a water bottle in hand, he stood in the same posture, totally motionless, for over an hour and a half. In fact, until he finally moved he was mistaken for a sculpture.

He is Pancho Gopal Samanta, a Behrupiya from a remote West Bengal village called Jairampur. A Behrupi Shilpi, as members of the community are commonly called, generally performs at functions, awareness campaigns, village fairs and even marriages.

Samanta is currently performing at a function held in Midnapur village to mark the inauguration of a water treatment plant in this arsenic-affected region. He poses with a water bottle to propagate the use of clean drinking water.

The middle-aged Shilpi had pedalled 20 miles from his village in the scorching heat to arrive at the venue. He had been promised ₹2,000 to stand statue-like, as a sort of mascot for the cause.

Make-up with a message

With his picture perfect make-up techniques, Samanta is adept at turning into any character that is expected of him. A master of disguise and an epitome of patience, he has the capacity to stand motionless in one posture for hours at a stretch. “I wear make-up that suits the theme of the event and my expression conveys it all,” says Samanta, who does not mind donning any look expected of him. Once he dressed as an Aedes mosquito to educate people about mosquito-borne diseases. He has taken part in campaigns against female foeticide, chit funds, alcoholism and drug addiction.

Last year, on Independence Day he donned the character of freedom fighter Khudi Ram Bose. Two years ago he was invited to Delhi for Durga Pooja. As is often the case, Durga Pooja is used as a platform for sending out social messages. “The theme was the Swachhata Abhiyan, so during the immersion procession for the idols, I stood like a statue atop a vehicle, with a broom in my hand,” he recalls.

Although he receives ₹1,000 per month as pension as a Behrupi Shilpi, it is clearly not enough for a living. With one son a labourer, the other studying and a physically challenged wife, expenses mount steadily. He often meets these by sculpting clay idols during Durga Pooja or even working as farm labour for sustenance. Unlike other behrupiyas, who usually dress as mythological figures, Samanta prefers to create awareness about social issues even if it means less or no earnings.

An ancient skill

A ‘behrupiya’, or impersonator, is a centuries-old form of performing art in some Indian States like Rajasthan, West Bengal, Maharashtra and Gujarat, as also some neighbouring countries like Pakistan, Nepal and Bangladesh. Traditionally these behrupiyas used to make a dramatic appearance at weddings or other occasions, dressed as policemen, priests, or other figures, and create a stir among the people, much like a flash mob does today.

A popular source of entertainment in medieval times for kings and other royal dignitaries, tribe members were also known to be used as spies due to their expertise in disguising themselves. It is said that there were over 350 defined roles for impersonators at one time. Today, with the art form going nearly extinct, the 100-odd behrupiyas in India are living in abject poverty.

Samanta says he did not receive any formal training to be a Behrupi. He learned the art at school as an extracurricular activity. It is now his livelihood.

Bindeshwar Pathak, founder of Sulabh, who was also at the clean drinking water function, was so impressed with Samanta that he gave him a cheque of ₹51,000, an amount he could never have imagined or dreamt of. “I will save the money to construct a small pucca house, but I still have to earn much more than that,” says Samanta.

The writer is a senior journalist based in Delhi

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