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Behrupiya: A fading art finds brief spotlight at Surajkund Mela

The Surajkund International Craft Mela, renowned as a vibrant confluence of global art and culture, continues to draw lakhs of visitors each year. Yet, for some traditional art forms teetering on the brink of extinction, the fair offers only a...
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A group of behrupiyas at Surajkund International Craft Mela on Friday. Tribune photo
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The Surajkund International Craft Mela, renowned as a vibrant confluence of global art and culture, continues to draw lakhs of visitors each year. Yet, for some traditional art forms teetering on the brink of extinction, the fair offers only a fleeting glimmer of hope. One such endangered art is behrupiya — the ancient craft of the impressionist — now fighting for survival despite its presence at the grand event.

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“Though I am happy to be part of the 12-member group representing behrupiya at the fair, the attraction and recognition our art receives is minimal. I might be among the last generation finding solace in such performances,” laments Shamshad (35), a behrupiya artiste from Dausa, Rajasthan, leading a team of five.

Dressed as a Jinn — the supernatural figure from Arab folklore capable of shape-shifting into humans or animals — Shamshad enthusiastically approaches visitors, greeting them with his signature line, “Kya hukam hai mere Akka?” (What is the order of my lord?). Yet, beneath the playful facade lies a deep sense of disillusionment.

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Shamshad reveals he has no intention of passing this family tradition, sustained over six generations, to his children. “I’ve enrolled my kids in school. I want them to be educated and lead a normal life. This art offers neither financial nor social stability,” he says. Having been pushed into the profession in his childhood, Shamshad regrets missing out on formal education and blames social pressures that forced his father to continue the family craft.

The lack of steady income and societal respect has deepened his disenchantment. “Even here, at a fair that claims to celebrate cultural heritage, we’re more of an afterthought than artistes,” he adds.

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Akram, another behrupiya leading a five-member team, echoes similar concerns. “The remuneration is poor, but what’s worse is the lack of recognition. Society sees us as jesters, not artisans,” he says. Akram highlights that behrupiyas at the Mela do not ask for alms or charge visitors for posing with them, yet they often face derogatory treatment. “Surajkund Mela is perhaps our last hope to keep this tradition alive,” he adds, stressing that the art of behrupiya is a vital yet overlooked part of India’s traditional performing arts.

Once a celebrated form of entertainment at weddings, festivals and social gatherings — where behrupiyas would transform into characters like Jinns or monkeys — the craft now stands at the edge of oblivion.

“Once widespread and popular, the art form is now in decline, with most practitioners living in poverty,” admits an official from the Tourism Department. The rise of modern entertainment technologies, coupled with a lack of structured support systems, has stripped behrupiyas of their traditional spaces and livelihoods.

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