Go figure

Ancient Egyptians shared their graves with the wax figures of their deities. During the Middle Ages, wax effigies were placed atop coffins at royal funerals. Mamata Banerjee was perhaps unaware of this arguably morbid history when she inaugurated the Mother’s Wax Museum in Kolkata recently. In a corner of the building, the West Bengal Chief Minister’s rather rotund wax sculpture can be seen reaching for a pen. Her detractors might justifiably claim that she used it to write herself a political obituary last year. With the fast unravelling Saradha chit fund scam, inexplicable blasts in Burdwan and the growing BJP footprint in the state, Didi’s 2014 diary was rather bleak. Her wide grin, though, doesn’t betray fears of a probing CBI rounding up the rank and file of her party.

Weeks before she became the Chief Minister in 2011, the mercurial leader had promised — “Kolkata ke London kore tulbo.” (I will turn Kolkata into London.) In May last year, Didi’s Facebook followers were unimpressed; they didn’t take kindly to her announcement that Kolkata would soon have a London Eye of its own. The comments left on Banerjee’s wall were acerbic — “Since all other problems of West Bengal have been solved, we have nothing better to do!” The people of her city were demanding bread, not scones.

But perhaps it takes more than snide social-networking sarcasm to break Didi’s indomitable spirit. Unaffected by criticism and mockery, the Chief Minister has ticked another box on her London wish-list by giving Kolkata its own ‘Madame Tussauds’. Together, the 19 wax figurines on display are the perfect dummies’ guide to local culture and history. But in the case of some, the purport is undeniably political.

Having paid ₹150 as an entry fee, visitors are first greeted by the slow hum of Raghupati raghav raja ram. Mahatma Gandhi can be seen marching on with a stern resilience. A patriotic few are overwhelmed and they bend to touch the statue’s feet. The Mahatma had left the world with an inexhaustible set of inspirational maxims, but the museum seems to have chosen for its walls a quote that suits its own needs as also those of its government — “Freedom is not worth having if it does not include the freedom to make mistakes.”

In just the first fortnight of its opening in November, Mother’s Wax Museum found itself courting controversy. Despite the fact that the date of Subhas Chandra Bose’s death has remained a source of much debate for historians, the museum was categorical in its declaration. According to a biographical note near the leader’s wax sculpture, Netaji had died on August 18, 1945. With only a Wikipedia entry to back their affirmation, officials were left red faced by a public outcry and a strip of white tape was quickly used to correct this inaccuracy. Historical bloopers, though, haven’t been the museum’s only gaffe.

On its list of lapses are several errors of omission and commission. Mother Teresa might have given Kolkata’s ‘Madame Tussauds’ its name, but she is yet to find her rightful place in the museum’s galleries. Sourav Ganguly and Kapil Dev have been captured in cricketing whites and blues. Sachin Tendulkar has sadly been reduced to a mere illustration on the wall. Satyajit Ray’s absence is only too conspicuous. While a replica of yesteryear superstar Uttam Kumar may well be enough to set the hearts of grandmothers aflutter, wax sculptor Susanta Roy has inadvertently proved that the beauty of Suchitra Sen is impossible to duplicate. The actress’ sculpture looks wrinkled and far from captivating; she appears downright macabre.

The museum, which has been developed by West Bengal Housing Infrastructure Development Corporation (WBHIDCO), does admittedly have a few convincing experiences to offer. You can, for instance, seat yourself opposite Rabindranath Tagore in his makeshift salon. Immersed in a book, the writer will unfortunately ignore you. Seeing that he is holding aloft a copy of his own memoirs, you must try hard not to feel slighted by this display of arrogant vanity.

“Sure the museum has its drawbacks, but it is a good addition to an otherwise lacklustre city,” says 23-year-old visitor Parth Rastogi. “Tagore’s sculpture is great, but Didi looks funny. I can’t believe it’s her.”

In the museum’s last room, it is glamour that serves as Didi’s bridge over troubled water. Flashing a smile she only reserves for selfies with Shah Rukh Khan and inaugurations with Amitabh Bachchan, Banerjee’s mirth now seems uncharacteristically perpetual. Wax statues of the two Bollywood biggies flank her own. Opposite Banerjee, Trinamool Rajya Sabha MP Mithun Chakraborty wears his all-white disco dancer attire to accentuate the leader’s grin. Loyalist Rahul Basu, 34, says he hasn’t seen the Chief Minister this happy in a long time. “I am glad the museum has captured this expression. I hope it lasts her entire tenure.” While Basu continues to wax eloquent, another visitor is heard complaining, “All the celebrities here look ever so old. This place is nothing like Tussauds. Didi can say what she wants, but Kolkata will never be London.”

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