Calcutta:
On April 9, 1956, a live telecast of a magic show in London seemed to have gone awfully wrong. The scheduled 15-minute slot on BBC was almost over but the assistant cut in half by the turbaned Indian magician was not coming back to life.
As the channel switched to the news bulletin, viewers jammed the studio lines with calls, convinced that the woman had been murdered. Such was the furore that the event made the next day’s headlines, with interviews of the assistant, alive and well.
“It had all been part of a grand plan. He had deliberately instructed the lady assistant to lie unresponsive… at the critical moment… This man was Protul Chandra Sorcar. He was also my father,” the writer of a book titled PC Sorcar: The Maharaja of Magic describes the incident.
A memoir of the illustrious father Protul Chandra Sorcar penned by his torch-bearer and son Prodip Chandra Sorcar or P.C. Sorcar (Jr) was launched on Friday at Starmark. It is replete with anecdotes that demonstrate how the senior Sorcar single-handedly revived a dying Indian art and went on to be hailed by the International Brotherhood of Magicians in 1948 as “The World’s Greatest Magician”.
The book is also a storehouse of photographs, publicity material, newspaper clippings and cartoons on the phenomenon that was P.C. Sorcar. His reception in the 35 nations where he performed is nothing short of spectacular. If The Sunday Times carried a photo of him reading the newspaper blindfolded, one of Japan’s top newspapers The Yomiuri Shimbun ran the headline on an article on him “Invaluable Living Asset From India Brings Black Art” while The Australian Women’s Weekly did a full page feature on him when he was touring the continent in 1958.
“The book was five years in the making,” said Bikash D. Niyogi, the managing director of the publisher Niyogi Books.
At the launch of the book on Friday, Sorcar (Jr) revealed that his grandfather was bitterly against his son taking up magic as a profession. “‘Do not do public shows. Society is not ready. You will be taken as a dabbler in hocus pocus,’ he kept telling his son. He wanted him to become an engineer instead,” said Sorcar (Jr).
In a way, he was right. “Even after my father’s body was flown in from Japan where he suddenly passed away in January 1971, people gathered outside our house at night expecting him to return, much like he would at the end of his disappearing tricks, appearing from a distant corner with the shout ‘I am here’. People were so gullible that they could not distinguish between his stage persona and the person he was in real life.”
Sorcar, as a child, had an opposite problem. He took the sombre man keeping a strict eye over his son and the smiling magician on stage as different people. The book is a testimony as to how the two avatars of PC Sorcar come together in the eyes of a fellow magician who is also his son.
source: http://www.telegraphindia.com / The Telegraph,Calcutta,India / Home> Calcutta / by Sudeshna Banerjee / May 12th, 2018