Ask the average man for what India is mostcelebrated, and chances are ten to one that he willignore the glories of the Taj Mahal, the benefi-cence of British rule, even Mr. Kipling, and willunhesitatingly reply in one word, ‘Jugglers’. Yes,India’s jugglers have been the wonder of India, aswell as of that greater India which lies outside itsborders and within the British Isles.

The Strand Magazine, 18991

WHAT IS KNOWN as the golden era ofBritish magic, from 1880 to 1930, is a periodof unprecedented innovation in the creationand performance of magic, when the UK wasconsidered to be the premier internationallocation to learn and perform the art. Magicwas performed in a range of venues fromstreet fairs, circuses and pleasure gardens,variety and music halls, to theatres and royalpalaces, and by the 1910s formed a consti-tuent part of early film footage.

At the end of the Victorian era presentersof magic broadly fell into two categories,jugglers and conjurors. Jugglers performedsleight-of-hand tricks or legerdemain, andtraditionally their reputation was colouredwith a tinge of dishonesty or street char-latanism. By contrast, conjurors constitutedthe new breed of professional magician whoexploited technological developments, em-ploying automata and stagecraft to create

grand illusions which, according to the‘father of modern magic’ Jean EugèneRobert-Houdin, were ‘wonder-exciting per-formances’: ‘A conjuror is not a juggler; he isan actor playing the part of a magician; anartist whose fingers have more need to movewith deftness than speed.’2 At the same time,many leading magicians were at pains todebunk fashionable trends in the occult,necromancy, and the recent fad for Theo-sophy. Their efforts to expose and distancethemselves from ‘fraudsters’ who advertisedthe power of the supernatural were designedto enhance their own status as professionals.

My opening extract from The StrandMagazine refers to Indian jugglers, not con-jurors. It may be that the author has simplymisused the term. However, it is more likelythe term ‘juggler’ reflected the contemporaryBritish popular perception of the Indianmagician as a social inferior, a loinclad streetmagician or jaduwallah, who performed anallegedly Indian set of tricks, rather than theIndian conjuror who performed western-style magic to elite society in full eveningdress. Inferior or otherwise, the anonymousStrand journalist testifies to the contem-porary international reputation enjoyed byIndian magicians, their very existence sig-nifying the wonder of India.

ntq 23:1 (february 2007) © cambridge university press doi: 10.1017/s0266464x06000595 3

Sarah Dadswell

Jugglers, Fakirs, and Jaduwallahs: Indian Magicians and the British StageThis article offers an historical analysis of the emergence and development of Asianmagicians on the British stage. Sarah Dadswell charts the trajectory of this phenomenonfrom the arrival of the first recorded Indian magicians in the UK in the early nineteenthcentury to the internationally renowned figure of P. C. Sorcar in the mid-twentieth century.In doing so, she illustrates the dialogue that took place between East and West, recordingthe ways in which both sides recognized and adopted the other’s modes of performanceand marketing strategies to suit their needs and satisfy public demand. Sarah Dadswell isResearch Fellow to the AHRC-funded project ‘British Asian Theatre’ at the University ofExeter. This article forms part of the project’s investigation into the history and developmentof modes of performance by Asian theatre practitioners in the UK.

By the late nineteenth century, increasedtrade and travel between India and the UKhad prompted cultural exchanges. However,the stereotypical, colonialist view of Indiansand Indian entertainers remained negative.Fact was frequently undermined by mythand fiction, so that Indian magicians (and insome cases, Indian peoples in general) wereregularly portrayed as genetically inferior,alternating from effeminate subordinates tosavage monsters, from mystics and fakirs withsupernatural mental and physical powers tomerely exotic beings.

In the early twentieth century there was asea change in attitudes to the Indian magi-cian on the British and international stage.Europeans had been cultivating a fashion forthe Orient, which the Indian magicians thenexploited. Indian magicians introduced new,Indian modes of performance onto theBritish magic stage that were later taken upby western performers. They were no longerthe ‘genie of the lamp’ or ‘yogic mystic’, butinstead created and asserted their ownidentity and canon of aesthetics and tricks.By the middle of the century Indian magi-cians had adapted to new visual media, suchas television, and adopted new marketingstrategies to reach wider audiences. A num-ber of them received top international awardsfor magic, were hailed as national heroes andseen on a par with their western counter-parts. In other words, the self-determinedIndian magician had come of age.

This article will document the historicalrelationship between magicians of the Indiansubcontinent (in particular present-day India,Pakistan, and Bangladesh), their presence onthe British stage, and their reception by thepublic and fellow European and US magi-cians. In plotting the trajectory from the firstreported Indian magicians to visit the UK inthe early nineteenth century to the assertive,professional Indian magician of the mid-twentieth century, I hope to illustrate howdialogue between East and West, interna-tional competition, and a mutual appreci-ation of professionalism and entertainmentwere central to this relationship and theeventual international success of the Indianmagician.

Early News from the Orient

Long before the nineteenth century, reportsof Indian jugglers had reached Europethrough the published accounts of Europeantravellers to Asia. These included MarcoPolo, Friar Odiric, and Sheik Abu-AbdullahMohamed, more commonly known as IbnBatuta (The Traveller).3 Such travellers wrotedescriptions of the exotic marvels theyencountered along the way. They describedfeats of levitation (of both people and ob-jects), of the cups and balls trick, the mangotree trick, and other wonders.

The cups and balls trick was not exclusiveto Asia, and was similar to that played atBritish fairs and inns, where the juggler hasthree upturned cups and continually passesa small object between them. He does thiswith such skill that the viewer finds it dif-ficult to know where the moving object is atany one time. The mango tree trick, however,was to become an essential part of the Indianstreet magician or jaduwallah’s performance.Here, the magician gives the impression thathe has made a mango tree grow from seedbefore the audience’s very eyes. He uses abamboo triangular frame with a cloth thrownover it. Each time he removes the cloth, themango tree appears to have grown a littlemore, and this may continue until the plantappears to bear fruit.

The Mogul Emperor Jehangir, who ruledfrom 1605 to 1627, recorded similar featsperformed by Bengali jugglers in his pub-lished memoirs. Although some Europeanvisitors to his court denied such feats, inEuropean eyes the East accrued a reputationof awe and wonder, where religious men,fakirs, and magicians possessed supernaturalpowers and acquired a mythical status.4

The first half of the nineteenth centurywitnessed a dramatic change in western per-spectives on Indian magic and mysticism.There were two reasons for this: the arrival ofIndian magicians in the UK who toured thecountry to great acclaim;5 and a changingdemographic in which urban migration andincreased wealth and literacy, besides anemerging concept of leisure across the

4

classes, led to greater public engagement inentertainment, including advertised magicshows. Public interest in magic had in-creased with a number of performers gainingnotoriety in fairs as well as theatres.

Indian magic experienced by Britons inthe UK and India during this period wascharacterized by a strong sense of spectacle,of physical feats, and even a sense of thegrotesque. As we shall see, the physicality ofthe performance made a lasting impressionon spectators and fellow entertainers.

The first well-documented instance ofIndian magicians performing in the UK was‘The Four Surprising Indian Jugglers justarrived in this country from Seringapatam’,who, according to Sidney Clarke, first per-formed at 23 New Bond Street, London, inDecember 1815, then at 222 Piccadilly, beforeembarking on a national tour.6 Ramo Sameeand Kia Khan Khruse were key figures in thegroup, and both later developed solo acts.These jugglers quickly became householdnames, and established the identity and

5

RAMO SAMEEThe celebrated East Indian Juggler, who is Re-Engaged at this Theatre

for a short Period,

Will go through the Whole of his Extraordinary Feats of Strength and Agility! Viz.

A SERIES of EVOLUTIONS with FOUR HOLLOW BRASS BALLS;— SEVERALFEATS of BALANCING, in which he will introduce the BUILDING A CANOPYWITH HIS TONGUE, on the TOP OF HIS NOSE, and removing the same with

surprising Ingenuity. Also, his EXTRAORDINARY EVOLUTION of theBALANCE of BIRDS, he places a TREE on his FOREHEAD; from whence, withthe greatest Ease, he SHOOTS them off, by Means of a PEA SHOOTER placedin his MOUTH.— The wonderful FEAT with LARGE KNIVES, similar to that

of the Balls; —SWALLOWING A STONE THE SIZE OF AN EGG, and disposingof the same at pleasure. Also, his Manly Activity in THROWING A LARGE

BALL, the Size of an 18lb Shot, to different Parts of his Frame with thegreatest ease; he places it between his Feet, and by giving a sudden Spring,throws it over his Shoulder, from whence it alights on the Bend of his Arm,and from thence to several other Parts of his Body; finally, with a masterly

Jerk, throws the Ball round his Head without the assistance of his Hands; andseveral other Achievements too numerous to insert in the Limits of this Bill.

He will conclude with the extraordinary Feat of

SWALLOWING A SWORD TWO FEET LONG!The Whole of the above Surprising Performance will take Place

in Front of the

New Splendid Looking Glass CurtainTo explain the Novelty, extraordinary Effect, or expatiate on the beauty of

such a Performance, in such a Situation, never before exhibited in anyTheatre, would be superfluous and unnecessary

Printed paper playbill (b/w, c. 23.8 x 37.7 cm) for the Royal Coburn Theatre, Thursday 10 January 1822. By courtesy of National Fairground Archive, University of Sheffield Library.

influenced the reception of later Indianmagicians in the UK. A number of playbillssurviving from these early performancesemphasize the physicality of the perfor-mance.7 This colourful superhuman physicalelement was incorporated into the acts oflater South Asian magicians and added yetanother exoticized layer to the already reifiedwestern perspective of the East.

The Indians Are Coming

At the time of Ramo Samee, scant discrimi-nation existed within programmes betweenphysical feats and sleight-of-hand or greatillusions. The excerpt on the previous pagefrom the playbill of the 1822 performance atthe Royal Coburn Theatre, London, not onlycommunicates the spectacular feats (whichinclude knives, feats of balancing, and swordswallowing) but does so in front of the ‘NewSplendid Looking Glass Curtain’. The audi-ence is therefore invited to enjoy the doublespectacle of the performance combined withnew equipment, an association of magic andmodern technology which continues to thepresent day.

One particular local juggler was capti-vated by Samee’s performance: ‘One nightI went to the theatre and there I see RamoSamee doing his juggling, and in a minuteI forgot all about the tumbling, and onlywanted to do as he did.’8 Interestingly it wasnot only the tricks that this man eventuallycopied, but also Samee’s costume:

I used to have a bag and bit of carpet, and performin streets. I had [an] Indian’s dress made, with along horse-hair tail down my back, and whitebag-trousers, trimmed with red, like a Turk’s, tiedright round at the ankles, and a flesh-colouredskull-cap. My coat was what is called a Turkish flyin red velvet, cut off like a waist-coat, with a peakbefore and behind. I was a regular swell, andcalled myself the Indian Juggler.

In fact Henry Mayhew, who recorded thisbiography, notes how the Samee protégé wasso successful that Samee paid him ‘not toperform in the same town with him’. If thejuggler’s story is true, it is testament toSamee’s success and the influence he had on

the development of British performers. It isalso evidence of the strategy of appro-priation used by local jugglers to cope withthe success and competition of visiting Indianperformers, a strategy regularly employed atthe turn of the twentieth century.

Let us take a moment to consider twoaspects of this bona fide Indian juggler’sperformance: costume and mode of magic.Mayhew’s local juggler was obviously awareof the importance of Samee’s authenticIndian costume and the influence it had inthe overall success of the performance – thatis, the audience’s willingness momentarily tosuspend their disbelief and allow themselvesto be drawn into the Indian narrative. Thefact that the local juggler had meticulouslyreproduced an ‘authentic’ costume confirmsthis.

The many portraits of Samee that were incirculation at the time reflect the public’sinterest in him. The picture of Samee (re-produced opposite) on the cover of theFebruary 1938 issue of the US magic journalThe Sphinx depicts a lively, theatrical scene,with a confident performer at its centre. Sameeperforms a version of the cups and balls trickunder the gaze of three onlookers, one ofwhom is smoking a hookah. The exotic natureof the scene is reinforced by the depiction ofAsian costumes and jutis (pointed shoes withcurled up toes) and the seemingly flyingsnake. John Mulholland suggests that theartist was possibly influenced by rumourand displaced the carved stick (which func-tioned as a wand) with the flying snake.9 Iwould add that the artist might equally haveused the flying snake for purely theatricaleffect. The picture suggests that the unprece-dented success these Indian jugglers enjoyedwas a result not only of their magic, but alsoof the exotic, theatrical, and confident natureof the performance as a whole.

The same picture communicates a sense ofauthenticity: here are actual Indian jugglersperforming Indian tricks. It is a question ofthe mode of magic employed. As I havenoted, the cups and balls trick was alreadycommonplace in England at the time. Samee’scostume and choice of trick, however, markhim out as a jaduwallah, rather than an Indian

6

performing western-style magic. Jaduwallahswere to be (and continue to be) foundthroughout India. Although the tricks mayvary, the jaduwallah typically works in openspaces, streets, parks, fairs, and festivals, as atravelling entertainer. He wears a dhoti orloincloth, and carries his props in a bag,which he spreads out over a piece of cloth inpreparation for his performance.

As a travelling showman, he needs toattract his custom, and so is frequently heardbanging his drum. The magic performed byjaduwallahs is generally passed down fromgeneration to generation, and is typically(although not exclusively) performed byMuslims. It is generally, but again not ex-clusively, the work of men. The stock tricksof the jaduwallah include the mango treetrick, cups and balls, the Indian rope trick,and the basket trick, which we shall come topresently.

Traditionally, entertainment is frequentlyon offer during the period of religious festi-vals in India. That said, one must not confusethe jaduwallah’s magic with that of theBrahmins (high-caste Hindus) and otherindividuals who have performed physicalfeats such as hanging from butchers’ hooksinserted into the flesh of their backs andbeing paraded about the town.10 Such featsrepresent a different type of local belief,specifically related to religion.

The Emergence of the Professional

Towards the end of the nineteenth centurythere also existed a growing body of ‘pro-fessional’ Indian magicians. Although thesemagicians took some tricks from the jadu-wallah’s bag, they tended to perform western-style conjuring, making use of automata andstagecraft to produce grand illusions. They

7

‘Supposed to be Ramo Samee’, The Sphinx, Vol. XXXVI, No. 12 (February 1938), p. 1.

were typically middle-class Hindus or Parsis,wore full evening dress, and played for a setfee to private or select audiences, includingBritish officials of high status and royalty.

Although rumoured to have been acci-dentally shot by Samee during a trick inDublin in 1818, a playbill shows that KiaKhan Khruse was later scheduled to appearin Brighton in May of the same year, per-forming the most ‘astonishing feats everwitnessed in Europe!!’ According to EdwinDawes, Khruse became so notorious he was‘featured under the letter “K” in an alpha-betic [children’s] Arabian Nights with theformidable title of aldiborontophoskyphornio-stikos . . . around 1820’. He also argues a linkbetween a performance by Khruse in York in1816 and the magical act of the writerCharles Dickens, under his nom de théâtre ofRia Rhama Roos.11

Even in these early days, the presence ofIndian jugglers in the UK was not the solesource of information relating to Indianmagic. Various written accounts of magicalfeats performed in India were published inthe UK. Prominent among the magical featswas a form of levitation that was popular inMadras in South India. Thomas Frost writesof an old Brahmin who ‘levitated’, allegedlyaided only by a plank of wood, a little brasssocket, and a piece of bamboo. Sheshal, the‘Brahmin of the Air’, repeated the trick in1832, apparently aided by a number of con-cealed iron rods.12

Although less well-documented, the Rev.Hobart Caunter’s account of the Indianbasket trick highlights another element ofthe Christian Westerner’s perception of theIndian character. In performing the trick, themagician displays a large empty basket(usually round) to the audience, into whichhe places a second person, who is sometimesfirst put in a large net. The person disappearsinto the basket and the lid is closed. Themagician then takes a sword and repeatedlydrives it through the basket. Obviously, theaudience fear for the ‘victim’ closed within.The trick concludes with the magician open-ing the basket to reveal its empty state andthe miraculous appearance of the person,often located in the assembled audience.

The Indian basket trick became so famousthat it has since been performed by numer-ous internationally renowned magicians.What is striking about Caunter’s account ofthis Indian scene is the grotesque manner inwhich the trick was performed, the repulsionthat he and others felt during the trick, andthe real fear he experienced for the life insidethe basket. Caunter described the little girlplaced in the basket as ‘a model for a cherub,and scarcely darker than a child of southernFrance’. Then to his horror, ignoring thechild’s pleas for mercy:

The juggler seized a sword . . . and to my absoluteconsternation and horror, plunged it through,withdrawing it several times, and repeating theplunge with all the blind ferocity of an exciteddemon. . . . The shrieks of the child were so realand distracting that they almost curdled for a fewmoments the whole mass of my blood: my firstimpulse was to rush upon the monster, and fellhim. . . . The blood ran in streams from the basket;the child was heard to struggle under it; hergroans fell horridly upon the ear; her strugglessmote painfully upon the heart.13

Caunter’s description of the little girl blurredthe usual colonialist boundary between the‘inferior Indian’ and the ‘superior’ Euro-pean, as evidenced in his heart-wrenchingreaction to the trick. Christian visitors toIndia had long condemned the magic ofjaduwallahs. This image of the Indian assavage monster, and then fakir or miracleworker as the child later emerged unharmed,may have fed the British public’s prejudicesconcerning the seemingly godless Indiannature.

By the 1830s further visual portrayals ofthe life and nature of South Asians were wit-nessed through the growing popularity ofdioramas and panoramas. Robert Wood des-cribes this visual medium as both instructiveand accessible to a broad section of the pub-lic. Two popular shows were Overland Routeto India and Indian Mutiny.14

During the same period a number of wes-tern magicians (that is, from Europe, NorthAmerica, Australia, and New Zealand) beganto tour Asia, thereby encouraging a dialoguebetween East and West. For example, in the1840s the ruler of the Ottoman Empire, Sultan

8

Abdul Aziz, frequently employed ComparsHermann, probably the most successful inter-national magician of the mid-nineteenth cen-tury, paying him an astonishing thousandpounds in Turkish currency for each per-formance.15

Mid-Nineteenth Century: Fakirs or Fakers?

The popularity of Indian magicians in theUK in the mid-1800s was reflected in thesubtle process of orientalization that wastaking place: a growing number of westernmagicians were appropriating Indian or Asianstyles of dress, magic, and vaguely Asian-sounding stage names. Undoubtedly Britishcultural awareness of India was growing, notonly through its flourishing trade, increasedBritish governance, and record numbers ofBritish men and women settling in India, butalso through the greater numbers of Indianvisitors to the UK, including students of lawand medicine. During this period, it is diffi-cult to know whether the magic entertain-ment market was performer- or audience-led,but what is noticeable is the number ofwestern magicians who impersonated theirAsian counterparts. Eliza Cook wrote:

On the stages in the front of the booths, Indianprinces and Spanish monarchs strut in fictitiousdiamonds and brazen spangles until the eyes ofthe infant populace ached in gazing at them.Sundry pennies and halfpennies carefully hoardedup for the occasion are expended upon theseindefatigable caterers for the public amusement.16

Cook suggests an alternative portrait of theIndian showman to that in Mayhew’s account.She portrays ‘Indian princes’, resplendent incolourful, decorative costume and fakejewels, no doubt corresponding to the vividBritish imagination of the opulent Maha-rajahs and their empires. Her descriptionreinforces the fact that appropriation of magicalone would not satisfy British audiences:what they craved was the colourful, theat-rical display of Indian exoticism.

Colonel Stodare (Joseph Stoddart) firstappeared in 1865 at the Egyptian Hall inLondon, a venue which later became syno-nymous with the very best of British magic

and associated with the Maskelyne dynastyof magicians. Although billed as a French-man, Stodare performed the Indian baskettrick and the growth of flowers trick, avariation of the mango tree trick. His showwas so successful that by 16 October of thesame year he had delivered his two hund-redth consecutive performance. Accordingto David Price, he received the support of thePrince of Wales in June 1865 and entertainedthe Royal Family in Windsor Castle thatautumn.17

Although we are specifically concernedwith Indian magicians, authentic or other-wise, the stereotypical, orientalist Britishperspective upon the East or Orient was notparticularly discerning and rarely respectednational, cultural, or geographical bounda-ries. As a consequence the British audiencecould be satisfied with almost any inter-pretation of the East, with depictions of theexotic, the extravagant, and the unknownwhich might have ‘originated’ anywherefrom Turkey, Egypt, the Middle East, orIndia, to Indonesia or China. This resulted ina continual blurring of the definition of‘Indian’ magic.18 Alfred Sylvester is anexample of the ‘generic Oriental’. Althoughhe performed two separate acts under differ-ent names – the Fakir of Oolu, and ‘HadjiMahommed Salib and his beautiful entrancedPersian Princess’ – he used the same luxu-rious, highly decorative costume, suggestiveof a Turkish/Middle Eastern-style, for bothacts.19

The increased travel of well-known wes-tern magicians to India was another pheno-menon that marked the years leading up tothe ‘golden era’ of magic. In addition to anaturally adventurous spirit, it is most likelythat the western entertainers wanted toexperience the enigma of India and themagical performances on offer at first hand.Philip Anderson, for example, toured Indiaon a number of occasions between 1871 and1898.20 Albert Tiltman toured India in 1875.Upon his return to the UK he performedstock Indian street tricks such as cremation(see page 14, below), and the sand and watertrick, often known as the coloured sands.21

The coloured sands trick involves the magi-

9

cian placing his hand in a bowl of water withsand in the bottom. He seemingly withdrawshandfuls of sand at the request of theaudience and then blows the sand from hishand. He gives the audience a choice ofcolours to choose from, and the colour of theblown sand changes accordingly.

One of the most famous magicians to visitIndia during this time was the AmericanHarry Kellar. After an extensive nationalIndian tour, he arrived in Southampton inJuly 1878. Given Kellar’s high status on theinternational magic scene, his experience inIndia would have had far-reaching consequ-ences, ranging from the styles of magic per-formed to personal anecdotes about thesub-continent and its peoples.

Of course, during this period Indianmagicians continued to visit the UK,22 andthe European gaze, in turn, was drawn toIndia. As ever, it was the jaduwallahs ratherthan Indian society magicians whom theEuropeans sought out, a trend evidenced inmy opening extract from The Strand. ThePrince of Wales, later King Edward VII, wasentertained by Indian magicians in Bombayand Madras during a royal visit in 1875.23

News of these performances would havebeen circulated among the press, and un-doubtedly encouraged the fashion for Indianmagicians in the UK in the higher echelons ofsociety. The association between magiciansand the court is an international pheno-menon which dates back centuries, and it isworth noting that the association in Indiawas no different.

The ‘Golden Era’ Dawns

The seminal publication in 1876 by ProfessorHoffman of Modern Magic and in 1877 ofEdwin Sachs’s Sleight of Hand ushered in the‘golden era’ of British magic, when the art ofmagic flourished in the UK and magiciansreceived unprecedented fees and played tofull auditoria across the country. The work ofHoffman and Sachs fed the public imagina-tion and provided a mine of informationfor amateur magicians in the era beforeformalized magic societies, magazines, andconventions. These timely publications also

coincided with the growing Victorian inter-est in automata and scientific research on theone hand, and a continuing interest in theoccult on the other.

In the first phase of the ‘golden era’, beforethe outbreak of the First World War, magicalactivity in the UK and India was directed to-wards the creation of the first magic societiesand journals with international contribu-tions. There were further book publications,with more training for amateur magiciansand an increase of travel by magiciansbetween India and the West in both direc-tions. Indian magic acts by non-Indians inthe UK increased, alongside a number ofplaylets that included magic. Most notably,there was the advent of film, which incor-porated a magic element. This affordable andspectacular medium of entertainment attrac-ted large audience numbers, thereby facili-tating even greater public exposure to magic.

During the same period the fashion forexoticism and the ‘Orient’ grew throughoutEurope and was evident across the arts fromliterature to interior décor.24 It is in this broadcontext that the popularity of the Asianmagician in the UK continued to flourish.

In India, Professor S. C. Ghosh25 was co-founder in 1882 of the Friends’ NecromanticAssociation in Calcutta, a forerunner of theIndian Magicians’ Club and the earliestknown magic club in India (only precededinternationally by the French Société Philo-magique, founded in Paris in 1820). Theappellation ‘necromantic’ carries overtonesof the popular interest in the occult whichhad existed in some circles, certainly inEurope, since the late sixteenth century.

The early formalization of Indian magi-cians took place in Calcutta and Bombay.Both were centres of the British Raj adminis-tration, and I would argue that the term‘necromantic’ reflects the dominant Euro-pean influence and culture imposed by thepresence of the Raj. It appears to be a parti-cularly western-centric concept suited to theChristian psyche, as the attitude to death, anafterlife, and spirituality in Hinduism, Sikh-ism, and even in the monotheistic Islam isquite different to that of western Christianity.It is only natural that the association’s name

10

later changed to the more neutral and profes-sional ‘Indian Magicians’ Club’.26

The emerging centres of magic in Calcuttaand Bombay nurtured the talents of Indianmagicians, including R. H. Gawariker andProfessor Nathu Manchhachand. OtherIndian magicians toured nationally and inter-nationally and were to appear on the frontcover of western magic journals. To take twoexamples, Sayad Hassan of Hyderabad andBelaya Nimmaya Hassan from Dharwarboth played London venues in 1886 but, incontrast to their colleagues from Bombay,performed the more spectacular, exotic, andacrobatic tricks of the jaduwallah.27

The gradual advent of magic journals pro-vided another international medium throughwhich Indian magicians could self-publicizeor gain notoriety. The first magic journal wasMahatma, which was founded in 1895 andpublished in New York. The title and headerreproduced above confirm the associationand visibility of South Asians (includingpseudo-Asian acts) and magic on the worldstage. The drama masks that bite onto thetwo upper corners of the scroll header withcursive title communicate the familiar, theat-rical nature of magic.

The term ‘Mahatma’ was synonymouswith fakir, a man of supernatural powers,and India herself was even referred to as‘Mahatma Land’ by the self-styled ‘WhiteMahatma’, Professor Samri S. Baldwin.28 Aman of indeterminate nationality, possibly apauper, is seated behind the title’s scroll withhis legs outstretched. However, the most

significant feature is the Indian magic sceneincorporated into the top left of the header.An old jaduwallah clothed only in a turbanand dhoti is seated cross-legged as he beatshis ubiquitous drum, facing a dancing fork-tongued cobra with his traditional staff tohand. Although the cover of this first editionof the first magic journal carries an articleand enigmatic portrait of Robert-Houdin,‘the Father of Modern Magic’, the viewer isin no doubt that magic and mystery also lieelsewhere, further East.

Two other front-page articles in westernmagic journals reveal the two faces of Indianmagic (adopted western- and ‘native maha-rajah’-style magic) and its reception in theWest. Professor Ahmad, Court Magician,appears in the December 1904 issue of Magic.The journal is billed as ‘the only paper in theBritish Empire devoted solely to the interestsof Magicians, Jugglers, Hand Shadowists,Ventriloquists, Lightning Cartoonists andSpeciality Entertainers’, and was edited byEllis Stanyon.29

Although Stanyon’s Magic (as the journalis frequently referred to) was a key magicjournal of this era, it should be noted thatindividuals could pay to be on the frontpage, thereby creating an excellent piece ofself-promotion.30 Ahmad is described as adrawing-room magician who is not prone tothe flights of fancy associated with the fakir(i.e., jaduwallah), but excels in western magic.His portrait shows a small-framed neat manin a three-piece suit and plain Muslim hat. Inaddition, the article emphasizes Ahmad’s

11

Masthead of Mahatma, Vol I, No. 1 (March 1895), p. 1.

social status. His father was a magistrate andAhmad’s recommendations, which reinforcehis reputation, include ‘Lord Curzon, Baronof Kedleston, Viceroy and Governor Generalof India’. The author adopts a somewhatcolonialist tone, presenting Ahmad as a manof good stock and, although an Indian, aprofessional of good character and socialstatus.

The second front-page biography is that ofProfessor Alvaro in the August 1908 issue ofThe Wizard, ‘An Illustrated Monthly Journalfor Conjurers, Concert Artistes, and all Enter-tainers’, conducted by Geo[rge] MacKenzieMunro and ‘Official Organ of the “MagicCircle’.31 The portrait of Alvaro (above, left)accompanying the brief biography is an ico-nic image – of a man in profile dressed inelaborate robes, wearing a turban and be-decked in pearls and other jewellery. Theeffect is reminiscent of a maharajah and wascopied, to some degree, by a large number ofIndian magicians that followed.

However, the text informs the reader thatdespite the elaborate costume, ‘India’s pic-

turesque magical entertainer . . . who is atpresent on a visit to Great Britain, entirelyconfines his attention to western as distinctfrom Oriental magic’, and has proven hisskill before the Magic Circle. So why didAlvaro adopt this costume if presenting wes-tern magic, particularly given the portrait ofhim printed in an earlier issue of the samejournal (April 1907). In this image (above,right), Alvaro has shed the maharajah lookin favour of full evening costume and tophat, the trademark of western magicians. Hisappearance thus reinforced his western-stylemagic.

It is fair to suggest that by adopting themaharajah-style robes Alvaro was seeking,like his predecessors, to create a recognizableimage that singled him out from the westerncrowd, and the article in The Wizard is likelyto have been a well-crafted piece of self-promotion.32 After all, aspiring to the styleand standards of western magic in India isone thing, but such a routine in the UK couldeasily be interpreted as a poor impersonationof the real thing. Rather than regurgitating

12

Two faces of Professor Alvaro in The Wizard. Left: from the title page, August 1908. Right, April 1907.

western magic already familiar to his audi-ence, Alvaro created a performance based onthe popular myth of the Indian magician.The maharajah-style costume constituted theIndian equivalent of the western eveningcostume, with a bejewelled turban replacingthe top-hat.

A new aesthetic had been introduced tothe western audience. The opulence of thecostume suggested authority and wealth and,no doubt, sparked fantasy in the audience’simagination. More importantly, this costumedistinguished Alvaro from the reputation ofhis jaduwallah social inferiors in the eyes ofhis fellow European magicians. Through thistheatrical strategy, Alvaro was reinforcingRobert-Houdin’s concept of a magician be-ing an actor, playing the role of a magician.The notion was reformed in the edicts set outby Nevil Maskelyne and David Devant intheir 1911 publication on the art of magic:

The magician must use artistry and modes ofperformance in order to dazzle the audience andentertain them. . . .

His ability to hold the attention of an audience,almost whatever the level of competition for theirattention, is evidence of the true artist within themagician. Any failure to maintain the audience’sattention points to absences in his performance.33

Linga Singh and Dadasahib Phalke

According to the esteemed American magi-cian Milbourne Christopher, ‘the most colour-ful of the Indian magicians who performedin Occidental variety was Linga Singh’.34 Themagician’s real name was A. N. Dutt, andover three decades he performed under thestage names of Ishmael, Ram Bhuj, and LingaSingh, with the variants of ‘Linga Singh,Indian Fakir’ or ‘Hindu Fakir’.35 His successwas certainly aided by the lasting interna-tional reputation of the great and authenticChinese act Ching Ling Foo (Chee Ling Qua)and the recent phenomenon of the pseudo-Chinese act Chung Ling Soo (or plain Wil-liam Robinson).

Dutt, like many middle-class Indians ofthis era, had been sent to Edinburgh to studymedicine, but had instead joined the dancetroupe of Ruth St Denis. He travelled in

Great Britain and Europe before working inthe US as Ram Bhuj and then returned to theUK to very positive reviews.36 Christopher’sdescription of Dutt’s performances ‘with oneof the most lavishly staged acts of the period’communicates the very Indian context of theperformance, its mixture of mysticism andspectacle, and choice of traditional Indiantricks:

Curtains opened on a dimly lit stage. A weirdtemple setting could be seen through an entrance-way in a painted mountain. A torchbearer ran outfrom the wings and darted through the gap in themountain to light an altar in the temple. Themountain scenery went up to reveal a chamberwith gilded elephants at the sides and a curtainedplatform at the back. Silken folds were drawnaside. The turbaned magician sat cross-legged ona cushion, surrounded by attendants. A dancinggirl amused him and the audience, then his magicprops were rolled forward. He arose . . .

When, after a long career working in majorvenues in the UK, the US, and across Europe,Dutt died in 1937, in a final flourish of self-publicity all his stage properties were burnt,in accordance with his final request.

Indian magicians were not simply theat-rical entertainers. Like their European coun-terparts Georges Méliès and David Devant,they played a crucial role in the emergingfilm technology. Whilst the magicians PhilipAnderson and the American Carl Hertz hadpreviously toured India with a film projector,it was the professional Indian magicianDadasahib Phalke (Dhundiraj Govind Phalke)who founded the Indian film industry in1913 by creating the first Indian feature filmRajah Harischandra (King Harischandra), de-picting aspects of the life of the Hindu godLord Krishna. The film was a phenomenalsuccess, and according to Eric Barnouw andS. Krishnaswamy it helped to secure thefunding for around one hundred films thatPhalke produced and directed before hisretirement in 1931.

These authors explain Phalke’s success interms of his ability to reach new Indian spec-tators. His audience was rarely the English-speaking community who attended newwestern films and read English-languagenewspapers. The new Indian audience app-

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ears to have made an immediate connectionwith the religious content of Phalke’s earlyfilm, which featured stories taken from theepics Ramayana and Mahabharata. Phalke, likeMéliès, was an expert in special effects, afactor that no doubt contributed to the spec-tacle of his films. In one short film, ProfessorKelpha’s Magic, he even performed as amagician.37

Beating the Indian at his Own Game

How did western magicians cope with thissudden influx of successful South Asiancompetitors?38 Some denounced the Indianmagicians as impostors and charlatans, denig-rating the concept of Indian magic; othersappropriated Indian magic, dress, and orien-tal-sounding names, incorporating them intotheir own magic routine (as Mayhew’s jug-gler had done in the early 1800s), includingmagical playlets. Others adopted a differentapproach and travelled to India to learndirectly from the Indians.

In his recent exploration of the history ofthe Indian rope trick, Peter Lamont capturesthe essence of this mixed response: ‘The am-biguity surrounding the legend was fuelledin part by a sceptical [western] amateurconjuror who claimed that the rope trickcould not be performed, and professional[western] conjurors who wanted to give theimpression that they could perform it.’ 39

Indian magicians had created a new marketwithin magic and entertainment, and fuelledthe increasing fashion for all things ‘oriental’.Western magicians were forced to respond tothis new market. Professional western con-jurors were acutely aware that they did notpossess the most vital ingredient of the‘Indian spectacle’ – that is, they themselvesdid not originate from the ‘mystic East’ andwere not, essentially, ‘exotic beings’. How-ever, in order to maintain their place in theentertainment industry, they had to adapt tothe changing circumstances. This keen busi-ness sense spawned a mass of pseudo-Asianacts.

So Carl Hertz, Howard Thurston, andDavid Devant all performed versions of theIndian rope trick; Harry Houdini (Ehrich

Weiss) performed the needle trick;40 NevilMaskelyne and Harry Kellar performed levi-tation; Adelaide Herrmann toured a showHindoo Magic; Harry Thurston (Howard’sbrother) performed a show called Mysteriesof India;41 and Carter the Great (CharlesJoseph Carter) was regularly seen in his ill-fitting, turbaned Indian garb. The fact thatnon-Indians could perform such iconic Asiantricks as the basket trick on stage shouldhave demystified the fakir with his super-natural powers in British eyes, but myth isfrequently more resilient than fact.

The magician, ever the master of patter,emphasized his ‘Indian’ roots by invokingtales of meetings with fakirs or first-handexperience of Indian magic. In their instruc-tive performance manuals, western magiciansadvised performers to allude to direct experi-ence of the ‘Mystic East’, the witnessing of a‘troupe of East Indian Fakirs’, or contriving‘to work the conversation round to . . . thefeats performed by Indian magicians’.42

Emulating Oriental Magic

The success of the Indian magician in the UKevidently injured the pride of certain westernmagicians. In contrast to the professionalmagicians who understood the market andthe need to recreate Indian tricks in order tofurther their own successful careers – the ‘ifyou can’t beat them, join them’ strategy –another body of magicians made it theirmission to denounce Indian magicians, theirmagic, and frequently the Indian peoplethemselves. Cynically, one might argue thatsuch magicians embarked upon this strategybecause they were unable to fathom the realsolutions to the Indian tricks themselves.

A range of pamphlets and books waspublished that allegedly explained the ‘trick-ery’ behind the magic of the jaduwallah. Suchpublications generally took the form of list-ing and explaining a given set of tricks, asin Hereward Carrington’s Hindu Magic: anExposé of the Tricks of the Yogis and Fakirs ofIndia.43 The list of Indian tricks included: theIndian basket trick; the mango tree trick;Indian cups and balls; coloured sands; theIndian rope trick; the dancing duck (where a

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duck placed in a bowl of water appears todip and dive according to the jaduwallah’swishes); buried alive (where the jaduwallah isburied in the earth and appears to be able tosurvive in such conditions for an extendedperiod of time); cremation (where a fakir isapparently burnt alive, but then reappearsalive and well); water of India (which in-volves a never-ending overflowing jug ofwater); dancing cobras (the familiar act of acobra allegedly swaying to the music of ajaduwallah’s flute); and many other tricks.

Ironically, this act was counter-productivebecause each time a western magician reiter-ated the same range of tricks, he reinforcedand advertised a recognizable canon ofIndian magic. Jean Hugard, however, under-stood the new reality and market for Indianmagic, and advised the following:

Instead of decrying the tricks of the Indianjugglers it would be better for many magicians ifthey studied the modes of presentation by whichthese performers succeed in making the onlook-ers believe they have witnessed [a] miracle.44

A number of magicians, writers, and enter-tainers challenged anyone who stated theycould perform the Indian rope trick. Thetrick involves a man (magician or fakir) whothrows into the air a rope which remains up-right and continues to rise. Someone climbsthe rope until he vanishes. The rope thencollapses onto the ground and with it fallsthe dismembered body of the vanished per-son. The trick is completed when the magi-cian or fakir restores the fallen man to hisformer, live, and complete self.

Major L. H. Branson, a minor westernmagician, offered three hundred pounds tosee the trick performed, and published thischallenge on the cover of his book IndianConjuring in 1922; David Devant offered ‘asalary at the rate of £5,000 a year to any manwho can perform the rope trick as describedin the legend’; Charles Bertram’s offer of£500 to anyone who could perform the trick,made on a visit to India in 1899, lay un-claimed, as did the £10,000 offered by LordLonsdale;45 and much later Cyril BertramMills offered the same £10,000 to see the trickperformed at Olympia, London.46

Many made it their business to exposeIndian magicians as charlatans, and in 1882the Society for Psychical Research wasfounded to investigate ‘scientifically allegedpsychic and spiritualist phenomena’.47 Thisbecame a key body contracted by a numberof institutions, including the BBC, to inves-tigate so-called supernatural phenomena.

Making Drama out of Magic

David Devant and Nevil and J. N. Maskelyneinitiated an alternative, theatrical and subtleappropriation of Indian magic between 1894and 1915 in the form of the so-called magicplay. The history of magical plays in themodern magic era might be said to begin in1865 with J. N. Maskelyne’s first magicsketch, La Dame et la Gorilla.48 But, of course,the link between magic and drama can betraced further back, through Elizabethantimes and the legend of Dr Faustus to Roman,Greek, and Egyptian tales and beyond.

The Devant–Maskelyne plays were writ-ten and devised by the three magicians, whowould generally take the leading roles,which required a magician’s skill. In short,a crude narrative was used to give sketchycontext to a number of tricks and grandillusions. When the script of the play wasthen published the copyright functioned as atype of patent for the actual tricks. At leastseven plays during this period either includedIndian or South Asian characters, or recog-nized traditional Indian magic. ModernWitchery was the first, performed 6 August1894, and including ‘the Astral Appearanceand Levitation of Koot Hoomi during TheMystery of L’hasa’.49 The Mascot Moth wasreviewed by Stanyon’s Magic in July 1906.50

The magic apart, the review describes a lamenarrative that takes place at Col. Passmore’sbungalow in Rajpoor. Devant played theColonel’s nephew who gambles his moneyaway, and Henri Hermann took the role ofMunga, an Indian juggler.

The contrast between the characters couldnot be more striking, and today, the port-rayal of Munga seems offensive. Despite thefact that his magic saves the day, he is neitherthanked nor respected by his ‘English mas-

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ters’, and speaks a parodied, pidgin English.Thus, asked whether he needs more light, hereplies, ‘Munga no conjure in the dark, plentylight.’ 51 Whilst the magicians involved maynot have openly denounced Indian magi-cians in public, the aesthetics of this perfor-mance and the portrayal of the Indian asinferior and secondary to the elite but weak-willed English characters reinforce the pre-vailing prejudiced perspective.

The relationship between Indian magicand drama is still current in today’s theatre.As recently as 2004 and 2005 the actor andprofessional magician Arif Javed performedmagic in two productions by the Tara Artscompany: Mandragora, King of India and TheGenie of Samarkand. Both productions wereset in centuries past. The audience delightedin the colourful spectacle of Javed’s magicalperformance and it would seem that theirreaction to his playful character, coupledwith his delivery of magic, is testament to thefact that the character of the jaduwallah isalive and kicking in the British psyche today.

During the ‘golden era’ of magic, then,professional western magicians picked up onthe new market of Indian magic, as createdby the Indian magicians themselves, and usedit to their advantage. Western magicianscontinued to tour India and the South Asianmagicians continued to entertain Britishaudiences. These included Mudaliyar Amar-asekara of Dodanduwa from Ceylon, whomade his magic debut in 1916, and in 1946won the British Ring Trophy, awarded underthe auspices of the International Brother-hood of Magicians (IBM).52

The Indian Magician Hits the ‘Big Time’

Until the 1930s the story of the Indianmagician in the UK, as documented here, hasbeen expressed in terms of British infra-structure, ideology, and standards of magic,with the Indians persisting in their quest toestablish a credible, recognizable identity forthe British audiences, whilst simultaneouslystriving to develop their international pro-fessional reputation and links with other inter-national magicians. In the period directlyfollowing the ‘golden era’, Indians surprised

British audiences yet again. They took advan-tage of new media and negotiated their wayinto early television showings in order toreach even greater numbers of spectators.National reputations could be created over-night and brought instant fame to a luckyperformer.

This period culminates in the arrival ofP. C. Sorcar in 1956, and marks a definingmoment in Indian and international historyof magical performance. Following in thefootsteps of his predecessors and contempor-aries, Sorcar attained unprecedented inter-national fame. Not only was he a showmanof exceptional skill and panache, creatingnew acts and dazzling his audiences, but healso possessed good business acumen andunderstood the need to define his person-ality and his act through various strategies ofmarketing, networking, and publishing. Hissuccess meant that he was no longer consid-ered inferior to his international counterparts,but rather earned the respect of magiciansworldwide – as reflected in the internationalawards bestowed upon him.

The success of Indian magicians in the UKin the 1930s can be explained, in part, by theincreasing domestic support they werereceiving. The first Indian magic journal withinternational contributions was The IndianMagician, founded in 1932, and edited by DrK. B. Lele with the frequent co-editorship ofProfessor Bharat-Kumar. Although the jour-nal was initially printed as a bilingual publi-cation, in English and Marathi, in Pune, nearBombay, it soon converted to English alonein order to accommodate the much-valuedforeign contributions. The journal attractedarticles and encouraged comments from manywell-known western magicians, includingEllis Stanyon.

The Indian Magician communicated magicnews between India and the West. It adver-tised the story of how the newspaper TheTimes of India had offered ten thousandrupees to anyone who could successfullyperform the Indian rope trick and that theLondon Committee of the Magic Circle hadalso offered five hundred guineas to thesame end.53 In addition, the journal supportedthe many Indian magicians who were per-

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forming abroad at the time, including Prof.Duke/Kuda Bux, Prof. Gian, Ahmed Hus-sain, Prof. Amar, Prof. Shah, Eddie Joseph(Calcutta), and Gogia Pasha.54 Similarly, thejournal covered performances by visitingwestern magicians, such as Carter the Greatin Pune, in February 1936.55

Although the editors repeatedly statedtheir wish to cultivate an internationallyrecognized journal, and without doubt lookedto the West for inspiration, they were awareof their fragile status within the global magicmarket. The editors continually stressed theneed for more magic tuition and publicationsin a number of Indian languages in order toinvest in the development of their national art.

One article by B. S. Chaudhary demon-strates his acute eye for the internationalmagic market and the reception of Indianmagicians both by their own and westernaudiences. Chaudhary states that rather thanattempting the ‘English pattern and style ofdoing things’, the Indian magician ‘mustadopt all the pose of a superman withmysterious powers . . . ’. In addition, in orderto make a more spectacular impression, heshould dress in elaborate, Arab-style cos-tume and employ ‘apparatus with picturesand figures of strange and superstitiousbeings and imaginary beasts that would fill aman’s mind with awe’. His reference to ‘Arab-style costume’ rather than explicitly ‘Indiancostume’ shows Chaudhary’s understandingof the attraction of western audiences to arather loose definition of ‘the East’.56

From the 1930s onwards, Indian jugglers,acrobats, trapeze artists, and animal trainersbecame more visible on the circus stage andas time passed and technology progressedthey also appeared on television.57 Althoughnot strictly magic, the public’s fascinationwith these allied arts inevitably contributedto the general perspective of South Asians aspeople with extraordinary physical andmental powers, or exotic ‘Others’.

The wonder of Indian circus performers,particularly those who handled animals, wasreinforced through a plethora of children’sbooks.58 Non-Indian circus acts adopted thesame strategies. For example, Bertram Millswas very taken with an act called Koringa,

animal trainer and female fakir, who statedin her publicity that she was a native ofIndia, born in 1915 in Bikaner, orphaned atthe age of three and raised by fakirs. In factshe was a Frenchwoman, Renée Bernard,from Bordeaux. She wore short costumes ofanimal print, used snakes and crocodiles inher act, and performed physical feats includ-ing walking barefoot on broken glass and upa ladder of sword blades, and being buriedalive unharmed.59

The Impact of Television

The introduction of television into Britishhomes altered the way in which all visualentertainment was received in the UK. Justas the first films had been made by magiciansand included magic, so the first outside livebroadcast by the BBC was bound up with it.In 1935 Harry Price, then President of theUniversity of London Council For PsychicalInvestigation, came across a young Indianfrom Kashmir, Kuda Bux (Khuda Bakhsh),also known as ‘The Man with the X-RayEyes’, the ‘Kashmir Mystic’, and Professor K.B. Duke. Price had been interested in the featof fire-walking – that is, walking barefootacross hot coals. In 1935 he was approachedby Bux, who later demonstrated, under Price’sconditions, that he could walk barefootacross the glowing embers of a fire andwithout any preparation to his feet.

In 1937 Price repeated the experiment, thistime under much more controlled and hotterconditions and with a different visiting Indianmagician, Ahmed Hussain from Cawnpore.This was filmed by the BBC on 9 April 1937at Carshalton. Further trials were held on 20April with Hussain and Reginald Adcock inthe grounds of Alexandra Palace. As Pricewrites, this ‘was the first outside “actuality”feature ever to be televised in the UK’. Thephotograph of the event that appeared in TheTimes shows Hussain’s choice of costume forthe occasion. He wore the formal sherwaniand turban, the established costume of theprofessional Indian magician. This iconicimage of a colourful, theatrical Indian magi-cian contrasts sharply with the BBC em-ployees and journalists who surround him.60

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Kuda Bux’s great contemporary was thegrand figure of Gogia Pasha, who actuallylearnt his magic in the UK from a westernmagician.61 His recorded performances inthe UK date to 1937 at the Sheffield Regentand the Granville, Walham Green. Hisreviews are positive, as ever tending towardthe patronizing, with a reference to his ‘duskyhelper’ (an allusion to his Indian assistant),but appreciative of the magician’s trueskill.62 A year later he played ‘to capacityaudiences at The Palace Theatre, Blackpool,several times a day’ and continued to per-form in the UK into the 1970s.63 One factor inhis success was his flair for flamboyant and

spectacular advertising. Reproduced here aretwo sides of a flyer, possibly dating from the1940s. Even though the flyer aspires to certainnorms within the international design ofmagic posters (with particular resonance toCarter the Great’s marketing materials), itsdesign is so individual, lively, and theatricalthat it represents the very essence ofChaudhary’s earlier edict that Indian magi-cians need to ‘inspire awe and wonder’, and‘dress in elaborate, Arab-style costume’.

Gogia Pasha’s poster is both informativeand inviting. Firstly, the picture is dominatedby the enigmatic and bejewelled portrait ofthe magician, wearing the now standard

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This page and opposite:two sides of a flyer for aperformance of ‘The GreatGogia Pasha: World'sGreatest Magician’.© The Magic Circle, London.

maharajah-style luxurious robes and turban.He is surrounded by depictions of his mostfamous tricks, including levitation, blind-folded sight, sawing a woman in half (wherea woman lies on a table and the magicianallegedly saws her in half – the woman, ofcourse, soon being fully ‘resurrected’), theIndian basket trick and rope trick, producingflags from his mouth, and so on. The vieweris in no doubt that this is a bona-fide Indianmagician from whom one should expect agreat and entertaining show. To conclude theeffect, the magician’s confidence (and somewould argue arrogance) is reflected in thetitle, ‘The Great Gogia Pasha, World’s Greatest

Magician’ – a title which wastaken over by P. C. Sorcar a fewyears later.

The reverse side of theposter is another marketingploy. Not only does Pasharepeat the illustration of theIndian rope trick (here moreakin to the ‘Arab’ rope trick),but he has also printed thenames of dozens of interna-tional towns and cities wherehe has performed, includingmany British locations. Thisdouble-sided poster is a meta-phor for the success achievedby Indian magicians to date onthe British stage. They couldnow be perceived as profes-sional, entertaining, skilful, andexotic, with a guaranteed bagof tricks; but in addition, theyrecognized their worth both tothe live and television audi-ence and could direct theirown careers with more confid-ence. In other words, in creatingan iconic image and support-ing it with professionalism andconsistency in performance,they had carved out a niche inthe international market thatremains theirs to this day.64

After the war there werenecessary economic cutbacks,and with Europe still in socialturmoil it became temporarily

difficult to bring in foreign entertainmentacts. Given the existing market for the exoticEastern magician, it is not surprising thatpseudo-oriental acts such as Ali Bey’s (DavidCharles Lemmy) pseudo-Arabian show orRam Das and Kim’s Asian double-act (Southand East Asian) soon filled the gap.However, the end of the war also signalledanother social phenomenon that woulddictate a fundamental shift in the receptionof Indian magicians in the UK – migration.

Migration of the professional classes, inparticular lawyers and doctors, had beenslowly taking place over the past century. In

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the wake of the war, with the shortage oflabour and a need for reconstruction, thous-ands of South Asians came to the UK andprovided the cheap labour that was needed.As politics progressed and cultural andideological schisms took place on the Indiansub-continent and later in East Africa, theinflux of South Asians increased.

The Post-War Situation

Rasool Khan arrived in the UK from India’sNorth West Frontier in 1926. He settled withhis family in Sheffield, where he eventuallyran a drapery business and a market stall.But, in addition, Rasool was a talented self-taught magician, and performed in a numberof local venues, including working men’sclubs. By the late 1940s he and his family hadmoved to Liverpool, where he created thePakistani Theatre with his daughter Doreen,a magical act that was also known as ‘RasoolHamza and Zarema, “Pakistan’s GreatestIllusionist”’. His two sons, Derek andRaymond, also participated in some shows.The family act included sword dancing, thebasket trick, and snake charming and, as thephotograph above shows, they also adoptedthe now traditional Indian magician’s garb.In 1952 they were invited to perform in the

Olympics which were held in Finland. Theirsummer tour took them to Scandinavia and anumber of European venues. Two years laterthey appeared live on the BBC programmeSideshow.65 Theirs was a phenomenal achieve-ment that also reflected the new climate ofentertainment becoming available in thepost-war period.

In addition to the new resident talent,visiting Indian magicians also continued toperform in the UK. Among the many werePrince Darius or Dara Kaka (Dara RustomjiKaka); The Great Kadir, who made severalappearances on Granada Television (andwas the son of The Royal Kadir, who hadperformed before King George V and QueenMary when they visited India); and EddieJoseph, a renowned magician who won thecoveted Sphinx award in 1947, enjoyed inter-national success, and published a number ofbooks including Magic and Mysteries of India(1940) and The Hindu Cups and Balls (1956).66

Chandu – The Great Chandrakant, ‘theIndian Illusionist’ – started his British tour in1971 at St George’s Hall, Bradford, finishingat the Dominion Cinema, Southall. By thistime, both venues had become associatedwith the growing migrant South Asian com-munities and their preferred forms of enter-tainment, and, in this case, testify to the new

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The family act of Rasool Khan.

audience for Indian magicians in the UK.67

However, the most famous Indian magicianon the international scene from the mid-1950s was, undeniably, P. C. Sorcar.

The Arrival of P. C. Sorcar

Pratul Chandra Sorcar was born in present-day Bangladesh in 1913 and devoted his lifeto magic from a young age. His life story iswell documented, not least by the magicianhimself. Indeed, Sorcar’s extensive self-promotion was possibly as much a factor inhis success as his mastery of magic and thegrand illusion. His self-promotion took theform of self-published pamphlets, books,photo books, a journal, The All India MagicCircle (AIMC) News Bulletin, radio and tele-vision interviews, networking in magic andcelebrity circles, and staged walks in fullperformance regalia through famous cities,including London, with his entourage offemale assistants dressed in saris.

At the same time he adopted the title usedby Gogia Pasha, ‘The World’s Greatest Magi-cian’, shortening it to the acronym TW’sGM.Although many Indians were proud to havea representative of such international stand-ing, other international magicians criticizedSorcar for his blatant and unqualified self-promotion. The German magician Kalanagfrequently accused Sorcar of stealing his per-formance concepts.68

Sorcar’s arrival on the international scenewas perfectly timed. It was ten years after theend of the Second World War, when theaustere conditions that had ensued were fin-ally starting to improve. The image of theIndian magician still resonated in the Britishpsyche and relatively few people travelledlong distances internationally. Performersarriving from South Asia, therefore, retainedtheir exoticism. Migration of South Asiansto Britain was yet to be considered a hugeproblem (as it was by many from the 1960s),and forms of variety family performance,both live and recorded, were still a significantpart of one’s expectation of entertainment. Inaddition, Sorcar had the benefit of the experi-ence of individuals such as Gogia Pasha andEddie Joseph.69

His marketing material alternated bet-ween Indian art and graphic design whichwould have had an ‘ethnic’ appeal in today’sparlance, but he also harnessed that seminalcharacteristic of twentieth-century culture –celebrity. Sorcar’s self-promotional publica-tions included photographs of the magicianwith individuals of international celebritystatus, such as Lord and Lady Mountbatten,his BBC interview with Richard Dimbleby, orthe actress Shirley Maclaine.

Every truly successful performance re-quires a bit of luck, and Sorcar’s first recordedshow for BBC Television on 9 April 1956 wasno different. As part of his show he per-formed the buzzsaw trick of allegedly saw-ing a girl in half with a circular saw. The trickwas certainly not unique to Sorcar, or Indianmagicians, at the time. The trick got underway and, as luck would have it, the audiencehad just witnessed the sawing of the beau-tiful seventeen-year-old Dipty Dey a littleabove the waist when the programme ranout of time and the cameras stopped. Theviewers were aghast and the BBC switch-board was soon jammed by callers wishingto find out if the girl had survived.

Sorcar’s son, P. C. Sorcar, Jr., assured methat his father was a man of precise timing,who had overrun his time on purpose, inorder to create the strong public reaction.70

Either way, it was a serendipitous marketingcoup and launched Sorcar’s career in theUK. The potentially horrific story was re-ported in the press the following day, accom-panied by the smiling portrait of Dey.71

Sorcar repeated the complete trick at theDuke of York’s Theatre, London, the follow-ing evening in a show entitled Mysteries ofIndia and the Orient, which was also coveredby the press.

Reviews and anecdotes regarding Sorcarseem to confirm that he was a hardworking,creative, and likeable man, and that hisshow exuded the spectacular character thatremained crucial to the success of Indianmagic on the world stage. He understood thepower of the media and often knew how toinfluence it. One anecdote tells of how Sorcarwas wearing his usual western suit when heheard that people would be arriving with

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cameras, at which point he quickly changedinto his sherwani performance outfit. Sorcardied in 1971 aged fifty-seven. The wave ofheartfelt obituaries from fellow internationalmagicians and the public funeral held inCalcutta, which was swamped by the public,are testimony to the undeniable success ofthis particular Indian magician.72

In conclusion, then, this exploration of thepresence of Indian magicians in the UK hasrevealed the extent to which Indian enter-tainers effectively negotiated British codes ofperformance to establish their own recog-nized modes of practice. Ramo Samee andhis co-magicians laid the foundations of astyle of performance that was dazzling, theat-rical, and uniquely Indian – as dependent onthe showmanship and personality of the per-former as on the quality of the magic. Overthe following two centuries a dialogue tookplace whereby South Asian magicians initi-ated new modes of performance, to whichwestern magicians were forced to respond.Although some sought to denounce theirIndian counterparts, many western magiciansunderstood the new climate and market, andappropriated South Asian sounding names,acts, and tricks in order to satisfy demandand further their own careers. Even in recenttimes, there are lingering traces of this ten-dency in the British magician ‘Ali Bongo’, orthe spectacle of Paul Daniels, poorly dressedas an Indian magician, performing a tele-vised version of the Indian rope trick.

From the late nineteenth century, interna-tional performance by Indian magicians wassupported by the development of centres ofIndian magic. The formalization of magic inIndia through magic associations, journals,books, and tuition offered a domestic andinternational platform for magic debates andperformances which underpinned an increas-ing Indian professionalism within the art.This support encouraged Indians to seektheir own Indian identity and deliver theirown modes of performance in India andabroad, rather than recreate existing westerntraditions. The familiarity of today’s Britishaudience with the image of the Indian magi-cian as a colourful and theatrical figure (asportrayed by Araf Javed in his previously

mentioned roles) is testament to the Indianmagician’s success over the decades.

In the early twentieth century, Indianmagicians exploited the new visual mediaand entertainment to reach an even largerpublic in the UK, soon to be augmented bynew migrant audiences; and by this time theIndian magician in formal sherwani was al-ready an established icon of professionalBritish entertainment. Kuda Bux and GogiaPasha’s success, and finally P. C. Sorcar’sinternational status based on professionalskill, showmanship, creative marketing strate-gies, and domestic support, mark the arrivalof independent professional Indian magi-cians, no longer considered inferior but artistson an equal footing with their internationalcontemporaries.

Notes and References1. Anon., ‘Are Indian Jugglers Humbugs? The

Opinion of an Expert. An Interview with Mr CharlesBertram’, Strand Magazine, XVIII (1899), p. 657–64.

2. Jean Eugène Robert-Houdin, The Secrets ofConjuring and Magic; or, How to Become a Wizard, trans.and ed., with notes, by Professor Hoffmann (London:George Routledge, 1878), cited in Mick Mangan, Per-forming (Dark) Arts (Intellect Press, 2007), forthcoming,Chapter 6.

3. Sidney W. Clarke, ‘Oriental Conjuring’, in TheAnnals of Conjuring (Seattle: The Miracle Factory, 2001),p. 373–400. Thomas Frost’s The Lives of Conjurors(London: Tinsley Brothers, 1876) was the first significantbook published on the history of magic. Frost notes acertain Hamilton who recorded his travels in India and‘made the reading portion of the public acquainted withthe tricks of the fakirs, or religious mendicants, of thatcountry, some of whom have exhibited remarkable feats,though they are much more frequently impostors thanlegitimate conjurors’ (p. 114).

4. See Clarke, ‘Oriental Conjuring’, p. 386–7.5. Although one cannot be sure how, why, or under

what circumstances the Indians travelled to the UK, thegrowing trade between the regions demanded moreIndian seamen or lascars, some of whom jumped shipon arrival in the UK. See Rozina Vizram, Ayars, Lascars,and Princes: the Story of Indians in Britain 1700–1947(London: Pluto Press, 1986).

6. Clarke, ‘Oriental Conjuring’, p. 395. The jugglersthen travelled to the US and performed in New York.

7. E. A. Dawes, The Great Illusionists (Newton Abbot:David and Charles, 1979), p. 133, 134, 170; Clarke,‘Oriental Conjuring’, p. 395–6.

8. This and the following information is taken fromHenry Mayhew, London Labour and the London Poor: ACyclopaedia of the Condition and Earnings of Those That WillWork, Those That Cannot Work, and Those That Will NotWork, Vol. 3 (London: Griffin, Bohn and Company, 1861),p. 104, 106. I owe the reference to Mick Mangan.

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9. John Mulholland, ‘Ramo Samee’, The Sphinx,XXXVI, No. 12 (February 1938), p. 348.

10. The British authorities tried, unsuccessfully, tooutlaw this practice in 1865. See the Indian OfficeRecords, the British Library: IOR 1892 Box l/p&j/6/322.

11. Dawes, The Great Illusionists, p. 131–4, 170–1.Dawes notes that Dickens’s interest in conjuring wassaid to have been ignited in 1838 when Nicholas Nickleby,first produced at the Hull Theatre Royal on 26 Decem-ber, shared the bill with Ramo Samee. Dickens later per-formed magic privately for friends and family (p. 131).

12. Frost, The Lives of the Conjurors, p. 206–8. 13. Ibid., p. 208–11. 14. Robert Wood, Victorian Delights (London: Evans

Brothers, 1967), p. 94–102. 15. See David Price, Magic, p. 69.16. David Prince Miller, The Life of a Showman

(London: Edward Avery, 1849), p. 3. 17. Price, Magic, p. 113–16. Allegedly, Stoddart was

not French, but born in Liverpool.18. Many so-called Indian tricks also had western

equivalents, such as Jack and the Beanstalk, for the Indianrope trick.

19. See the playbills and portraits reproduced inPrice, Magic, p. 120; and Peter Lamont, The Indian RopeTrick: the Biography of a Legend (London: Little Brown,2004), p. 35.

20. Anderson, also known as Prof. Anderson, Wizardof the North, took a film projector on his last tour. BartWhaley, Whaley’s Who’s Who in Magic: an InternationalBiographical Guide from Past to Present (Key West, Florida:Black Bart Magic, 2001), CD-ROM version, accessedautumn 2005.

21. Price, Magic, p. 97. See Whaley, Whaley’s Who’sWho, CD-ROM.

22. Clarke, ‘Oriental Conjuring’, p. 396. 23. Ibid., p. 391–2. Years later, the editor of the

Indian magic journal Magic Net was saddened that not asingle magician was invited to meet Queen Elizabeth IIand the Duke of Edinburgh on their first visit to India in1961: see L. N. Das, ‘Editor Speaks’, Magic Net, II, No. 3(March 1961), p. 3.

24. Contemporary photographs of high society aretestament to the fashion for highly decorative, flowingmaterials in rich hues of saffron, earthy tones, and greensassociated with the Orient. Men would even adopt asherwani or kurta (Indian-style formal jacket) and beadedturban for certain society events, whilst women dressedin the flowing silks associated with Arabia, or new freedancers such as Isadora Duncan and Diaghilev.

25. Ghosh was a professional magician performingwestern and authentic Indian magic, and according toBart Whaley, played Paris in 1900 during a world tour.Titles of Professor and Doctor should not be assumed torefer to academic or medical qualifications; they werefrequently applied to certain magicians of a particularstandard.

26. Both the British Magical Society and the MagicCircle were founded in 1905 with David Devant as theelected President. See David Hibberd, Chronicle of Magic1900–1999: a Record of Happenings in Magic in GreatBritain (David Hibberd, 2003), p. 18–20.

27. Whaley, Whaley’s Who’s Who, CD-ROM; Clarke,‘Oriental Conjuring’, p. 396–7.

28. Professor Samri S. Baldwin, The White Mahatma,the Secrets of Mahatma Land Explained (New York: T. J.Dyson, 1895).

29. Ellis Stanyon, ‘Prof. Ahmad, Court Magician’,Magic, V, No. 3 (December 1904), p. 1.

30. Information supplied by Peter Lane, chief libra-rian to the Magic Circle, London. This is not to say thatProf. Ahmad paid for this article, but rather to informthe reader that this form of specialist self-promotion atthe highest magical echelon was available to magicians.

31. Anon, ‘Professor Alvaro’, The Wizard, III, No. 36(August 1908), p. 1.

32. Alvaro toured India, the Far East, and Englandin 1908. According to Whaley, Alvaro also published in anumber of European magic journals, including WillGoldston’s Magician Monthly.

33. Nevil Maskelyne and David Devant, Our Magic:the Art in Magic, the Theory of Magic, the Practice of Magic(London: Routledge), p. 32–3.

34. Milbourne Christopher, The Illustrated History ofMagic (Toronto: Fitzhenry and Whiteside, 1973), p. 289–90. See David Price, Magic, p. 498–502, for informationon Ching Ling Foo.

35. The latter is an interesting choice, since Singhdenotes the Sikh not Hindu religion. In general allIndian magicians of this era were classified in the Westas either Hindu or Muslim, despite the fact that manyhad adopted dress from the Punjab, an area associatedwith Sikhism. Consistently loosely applied terms offakir, Hindu, Mahatma, Brahmin, Muslim, and so forthare further evidence not only of the West’s ignorance,but also the fact that most were content to indulge in asense of generalized eastern exoticism, rather than applya more specific, analytical approach.

36. In addition to Christopher, see Price, Magic, p.510–11; Hibberd, Chronicle of Magic, p. 14–15, alsodocuments a number of Dutt’s performances in 1904 as‘Ishmael, The Hindoo Wonder’.

37. Barnouw and Krishnaswamy, Indian Film (NewYork; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980), p. 10–23.

38. Bhay Ranjit, a.k.a. Ripendra Nath Bose, laterknown as Rajah or Rajah Bose, travelled to Leeds tostudy. In 1909–10 he became the first Indian accepted bythe Variety Artists’ Agents to appear in the British musichalls or variety theatres as their registered artiste, con-juror, and animal mimic, on the same terms and rank asany European professor of the art. Asoke Sarkar, ‘Biog-raphy: Our Homage to Rajah Bose India’s Great Masterof Magic With International Reputation’, Magic (January1950), p. 31–6.

39. Lamont, The Rise of the Indian Rope Trick, p. 113.40. Needles or beads are bundled into the magi-

cian’s mouth and mysteriously threaded within the con-fines of the mouth, then to be extracted as threaded onthe cotton.

41. Price, Magic, p. 221.42. See for example, David Devant, ‘An Anglo-

Indian Trick’, in Magic Made Easy (London: C. ArthurPearson, 1921), p. 44–7.

43. Hereward Carrington, Hindu Magic: an Exposé ofthe Tricks of the Yogis and Fakirs of India (Kansas City: A. M.Wilson, 1913).

44. Jean Hugard, Hugard’s Annual of Magic 1938–39,cited in AIMC News Bulletin, May 1960.

45. Clarke, ‘Oriental Conjuring’, p. 383.46. Major L. H. Branson, Indian Conjuring (London:

Routledge). Branson’s stated aim in his book is ‘to up-hold the reputation of the western conjuror against thespurious ascendancy held by his eastern confrère’ (p. 2);David Devant, My Magic Life (London: Hutchinson,

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1931), p. 131; Cyril Bertram Mills, Bertram Mills Circus:Its Story (London: Hutchinson, 1967), p. 81.

47. Lamont, The Rise of the Indian Rope Trick, p. 66;Anne Davenport and John Salisse underline J. N.Maskelyne’s wish to denounce any ‘fraudulent spiritu-alism in all its forms’, in their St George’s Hall: Behind theScenes at England’s Home of Mystery (Pasadena, CA: MikeCaveney’s Magic Words, 2001), p. 26.

48. Sam Sharpe, The Magic Play (Chicago: Magic,1976) lists all the Maskelyne-Devant magical sketches.

49. Sharpe, in The Magic Play, lists the plays as:Modern Witchery, 1894; The Soul’s Master, 1895; Le Miracledu Brahmine, 1896; The Entranced Fakir, 1901; ThePhilosopher’s Stone, 1902; The Mascot Moth, 1905; and InQuest of Mahatma, 1915. Davenport and Salisse (p. 51–2,76, and 328–9) also provide information on The MagicalMaster, 1907, which contained the Indian rope trick, anddetails of The Mascot Moth, and the early stages of ANight of Mystery, about the same time.

50. Ellis Stanyon, ‘A Description of a Magical SketchPresented at St George’s Hall’, Magic, VI, No. 10 (July1906), p. 73–5.

51. This line has been altered in the version pub-lished in David Devant, My Magic Life (London:Hutchinson, 1931), p. 271–80.

52. See Whaley, Whaley’s Who’s Who, CD-ROM. 53. Dr Lele and Prof. Bharat-Kumar, ‘Magical News

in Brief’, The Indian Magician, III, No. 4 (11 May 1934), p. 5. 54. See the issues of August 1934, December 1935,

March 1936, August 1936, and July 1937.55. ‘Carter the Great’, Indian Magician, V, No. 1 (11

February 1936), p. 241.56. B. S. Chaudhary, Indian Magician, III, No. 6 (11

July 1934), p. 2.57. A few names include Bombayo, a slack-rope

walker; Damoo Gangaram Dhotre, wild animal trainerand circus artist; and Prince Zahoor, perche artiste. Aphotograph taken at Norwich Fair in 1937 shows a stallentitled ‘Amir-Ali’s Hindu Theatre, Oriental Mysteries,A Wonder Show’. See Michael E. Ware, Historic Fair-ground Scenes (Moorland: Ashbourne, 1989), ill. 59.

58. For example, Nagendranath Gangulee, Sher Shahthe Bengal Tiger (London: New India Pub. Co., 1946).

59. Mills, Bertram Mills Circus, p. 87–9; Derek GilpinBarnes, Bertram Mills Circus in Story and Pictures(London: Bertram Mills Circus, 1950).

60. Harry Price, Search for Truth, p. 186–8. 61. Information from interview with P. C. Sorcar Jnr.,

Asansol, West Bengal, 20 July 2006.

62. Anon, ‘Gogia Pasha, at the Regent Theatre’, TheScaratika (The Sheffield Circle of Magicians), II, No. 1(January 1937), p. 43–4; Anon, ‘Programmes: GogiaPasha, at The Granville, Walham Green’, The MagicWand, XXVI, No. 173 (March–May 1937), p. 51.

63. Frederic Culpitt, ‘Chit-Chat’, The Magic Wand,XXVI, No. 177 (March–May 1938), p. 151. See alsoHibberd, Chronicle of Magic, p. 116–232, for detailed per-formance dates.

64. Hassan’s and Kuda Bux’s service in ENSA dur-ing the Second World War is another indicator of thegrowing participation of Indian entertainers in the UK.See Hibberd, Chronicle of Magic, p. 138.

65. Information taken from http://www.liverpoolmuseums.org.uk/hamlyn/ip/, accessed autumn 2005,and from Rasool Khan’s family. See also Radio Times, 16July 1954, p. 40.

66. Prince Darius was from Bombay and performedin the UK from 1961, turning full-time in 1984; Cardohailed from Varanasi and was in London from at leastthe same year; and Vijoy Govinda left for England in1964.

67. Peter D. Blanchard, ‘This Is Your Life, DaraRustomji Kaka’, The Magic Circular, LXXXIV, No. 908(August 1990), front cover, and p. 166–7; S. D.Mukherjie, ‘News and Views’, Magic Net, IV, No. 3(March 1963), p. 3; Hibberd, for multiple references,including Chandu, p. 233; and Hugh Miller, ed., The Artof Eddie Joseph, with foreword by Harry Stanley(London: Supreme Magic, 1978).

68. Related materials are lodged in the archive of theMagic Circle, Euston, London. The issue was alsodebated in Sorcar’s AIMC News Bulletin (a thinly veiledorgan of self-promotion) and Magic Net, the then rivalIndian magic journal, published in Calcutta.

69. P. C. Sorcar, Jr., confirmed the friendship thatexisted between Gogia Pasha and his father. Interview,20 July 2006.

70. Interview with P. C. Sorcar, Jr., 20 July 2006.Sorcar had performed at only a few theatres before theBBC recording.

71. Clifford Davis, ‘“Girl Cut In Half” Shock On TV’,Daily Mirror, 10 April 1956.

72. Sorcar’s son, Prodip Chandra Sorcar, inheritedhis father’s show under the name P. C. Sorcar, Jr., andcontinues to perform internationally. The issue of Genii,XXXV, No. 6 (February 1971) was used to both mournthe loss of the great magician, and also to launch thecareer of P. C. Sorcar, Jr.

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