In mid-20th century Bengal, eastern India, some of the most celebrated female stage performers were, in fact, men. Among them, Chapal Bhaduri stood out. Known on stage as Chapal Rani, he became one of the most prominent figures in jatra, a traditional travelling theatre form that once attracted large rural audiences.
Across global theatre traditions—from Europe to Asia—it was common for male actors to portray female roles. In Bengal, this practice thrived within jatra, a vibrant performance style blending music, mythology and drama. These productions were staged in open-air settings and relied heavily on expressive acting, elaborate costumes and powerful vocal delivery.
In the book Chapal Rani: The Last Queen of Bengal, author Sandip Roy explores Bhaduri’s rise to fame and his gradual fall into obscurity. Through his story, the book sheds light on a fading theatrical tradition where gender performance was central to the art.
For decades, female roles in jatra were performed by men known as purush ranis (male queens). However, the genre was often looked down upon by urban elites in colonial-era Calcutta, who considered it unsophisticated. By the 1950s, when Bhaduri began his career, the landscape was already shifting as more women started taking up roles on stage.
Born in 1939 in Kolkata to actress Prabha Devi, Bhaduri was immersed in theatre from a young age. He began performing at 16 and quickly gained recognition for his ability to portray female characters with remarkable authenticity. His roles ranged from queens and courtesans to goddesses, each performed with careful attention to detail, from costume design to physical expression.
Unlike many portrayals of gender-nonconforming characters at the time, which were often comedic or exaggerated, Bhaduri’s performances were serious and deeply expressive. His work stood out in a cultural environment where such roles were rarely treated with respect.
Off stage, his personal life was more complex. Living in a conservative society, Bhaduri did not openly define his identity, though he received admiration and affection from fans. He maintained a long-term relationship for over 30 years, despite social constraints.
The decline of his career came gradually. As female performers became more accepted in jatra, audiences began rejecting male actors in female roles. By the late 1960s and early 1970s, performers like Bhaduri were increasingly pushed aside. In one instance, he was even driven off stage by an audience that no longer accepted his presence.
Many of his contemporaries faced poverty and hardship as the industry changed. Some took up small trades, while others disappeared from public memory altogether. Bhaduri survived through various modest jobs, including working in libraries and performing in folk traditions for small donations.
In later years, there was renewed interest in his life and work. Filmmaker Kaushik Ganguly cast him in films, and earlier documentation by Naveen Kishore helped reintroduce him to a younger audience. For some, Bhaduri became a symbol of resilience and a figure connected to evolving conversations around identity.
Despite this, he resisted being defined by modern labels. Off stage, he lived simply, dressing like any other man of his generation. His life reflects a unique intersection of performance, identity and cultural change.
Today, Bhaduri lives in a retirement home, carrying with him decades of experience from a theatre tradition that once shaped popular culture in Bengal. His story raises important questions about memory, recognition and the preservation of artistic heritage.
Bhaduri performed for over 60 years and was once a major star. Yet, like many artists from fading traditions, he spent much of his later life on the margins of the very world he helped build.
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