Kolkata and we, its people, lost a pioneer in the field of art and sculpture mid-autumn just as we were ready to welcome Ma Uma as Jagadhatri. The divine mother took back one of her most blessed and gifted daughters, the first female student of sculpture at the Government Art College, Kolkata – Uma Siddhanta (1933-2025).
A pioneering sculptress who has seen her metal, earthen and stone sculptures adorn some of the iconic landmarks of the city and beyond, she had received national recognition for her use of folk art in pedagogy and she had balanced her dual role as sculptress and educator all her life, having also wielded the pen with the same effortless ease as the brush and chisel. But it is not the job of a commoner like me to analyse her craft or her other aesthetic pursuits. I want to pay a tribute to our dear Thakum.
My first impression of Thakum was that of the lady with the white sandal phonta that used to adorn her forehead. Drupad, Dhritiman and Ritam were the 3 sons of Prof Ashis Kumar Siddhanta and Mrs. Sujata Siddhanta; Drupad and I were in school together whereas Dhritiman was a couple of years junior and Ritam nearly a decade younger. When I went across the field from St. Xavier’s Collegiate School to St. Xavier’s College to do my plus-two because I wanted to study humanities which the school didn’t offer, I became a part of the last batch in West Bengal that did classes XI-XII in college. That was the first time that my path crossed with that of Drupad’s father, Prof Ashis Siddhanta, who, apart from being a professor of chemistry, was the president of the Xaverian Theatrical Society. Once we entered the world of the Siddhanta Stagecraft (as I prefer to call it), I learnt from Drupad (called “Bhutta” at home) that it was his grandparents, Prof Sunil Kr Siddhanta and CHARUSHILPI Uma Siddhanta who were the bedrock of it. It was when we had a rehearsal at the Siddhanta home on Raja Basanta Roy Road on a holiday that I first met the venerable lady with the white sandal phonta. Her grandsons called her thakum, and we called her the same. She was this pleasant, quietly sophisticated lady who spoke sparingly, but when she did, was very pertinent. As the production date came closer, we could see the excitement in her body language too. Her movements were a little impeded; we had learnt that there was a metal plate implanted in her foot, and she had earlier had her brushes with death and had used her own art to revitalise and rejuvenate herself when recuperating in the hospital.
The Xavier’s auditorium was renovated in such a way that the green rooms, earlier below the stage, were shifted on the gallery floor with a metal spiral stairway on either side of the stage to go to the respective green rooms. So, it was almost impossible for thakum to help with the dressing and make-up. But what was she so excited about? I got to know when the time came for us to rehearse with props and we went to the other Siddhanta home at Hindustan Park to get those.
I then discovered that it was at this address that thakum had her studio! And not just her own artwork and sculptures, she did the sets and props for all her son’s and grandsons’ plays herself! I was just floored by her dexterity and her versatility. She showed me her creations, her treasure trove, describing in succinct yet colloquial terms the material used and the process used so that dumb creatures like us are not intimidated by the finer details.
When I came back home and described my experience I was rebuked and reprimanded for my ignorance of who Uma Siddhanta was and what she meant to CHARUKALA and its growth and development in post-independence Bengal. I then realised how privileged I was to have gotten the opportunity to be blessed by such a luminary.
Over a decade of Siddhanta Stagecraft enabled me to see more of Thakum and her leadership, mentorship and organisational skills. While I was finishing my Masters at the Calcutta University, she sought my help in translating select sections and summarising into English her book on the use of folk arts in public education. Reading that book gave me a glimpse into her amazing creative vision – how she had evaded dogmas and ideologies to carve out from the indigenous knowledge systems the fundamental and rudimentary pedagogical techniques which could be effectively used for the dissemination of knowledge through elementary education assisted by art as an effective tool.
I have seen how she can assert authority without raising her voice. She was extremely clear in her thought, word and deed and was an extremely resourceful lady who would create something out of the minimal. For the one iconic mother and child figure at Hazra Jatin Das Park that was destroyed during the Metro Railway work, there are many more creations that are testament to her finesse.
Lord Vishwakarma and Ma Saraswati are probably bargaining among themselves as to who should get the lion’s share of thakum’s assistance now that she’s ‘up there’. Thakum, your affection – not the mollycoddle, but understated and everlasting – will remain within me forever. May we be generous and industrious like you. Thank you for adding oil to our lamps!
DoubleSpeak 