Merle, Me & A Mansion in the Motherland - The Mystique Of Merle Oberon

On my first junior jaunt back to India, my garrulous, great-grand-mother regaled me with phantasmagorical tales of spooks & sirens & magical manors with maidens so fair. So 'FAIR' I pondered!... In India? Oh yes, the fairest of fair maidens, some of whom courageously crossed the Indian Ocean to seek fame, fortune & felicity.

Pampered, preserved & conserved on celluloid

I was told of the grand home of a great English screen actress who lived in Kolkata - a home I have searched for on countless occasions (Most likely reduced to dust by now, courtesy of a few mustachioed, man-servants with muscles) & a small curiosity I had been trying to unravel since the words 'Palaces' & 'Silver screen' were planted in my brain.

Not the Oberon Mansion but a crumbling neo-baroque 

building-facade in the nicer nooks of Kolkata #

Research indicates that actor Merle Oberon was born in Bombay to an Indian mother & British soldier during occupation (or as it was more commonly referred back then, the days of the British Raj) While this was not 'such' an unusual occurrence for the time, nor too scandalous a revelation for modern times... back then, the progeny of such couplings found themselves caught between cultures, & either elevated or ostracized, depending on the company.

Neon art-work by Nicholas Galanin, echoes offensive signages

found in many public places in India, right up until the 80s *

It is believed, however, being young, ambitious & leveraging her sought-after skin tone & 'masala-mix' beauty, Merle took to the high-seas in the hopes of striking 'Star-Gold' in her new world. Nothing particularly 'new' there, except for what marks this story as particularly tragic. It was not because (like other half castes of her generation) she dubiously concealed her Indian identity, (&, in Merle's case, going to extraordinary lengths to do so) but the fact that the woman she travelled with, & referred to as her 'Ayah' (servant/hired-help) was by way of the Bible, her very own Mother (unbeknownst to anyone else of course, excepting Miss Oberon)!

 Douglas Sirk's 'Imitation of Life' sees Sarah-Jane 

rejecting her mother's 'colour' & denying their relationship **

The actress, whose soft vulnerability & rarefied radiance shone wildly in 'Wuthering Heights', & who wistfully lured men-folk to her siren-call in nearly every movie she starred in, essentially rejected the exotic essence of her being & for all intents & purposes, was vehemently ashamed of her heritage... Heart-breaking.

'Wuthering Heights' 1939. 

Oberon plays the quintessential 'English' Rose

Yes, yes, I know it was but a safe refuge of the time, a legacy of old perceptions & an unwitting survival tactic - but I can't help feeling doleful about it all. Disheartened that such measures had to be taken to extricate oneself from the barbarous associations of a supposedly backward nation.

The Indian Mutiny of 1857

While some were fleeing inequality, others were fighting it ***

Writings proffer that Merle Oberon returned to the Motherland in later life, when the stage-lights dimmed & the need to hide was no longer required... especially as there was nothing left to seek & she was no longer sought.

Living & leaving on the 'low-down'

I wonder whether any peace was had or 'made' with the uncredited lady who 'took care' of the great actress. What sense of self-worth each had, how they reconciled their fine charade & if they felt the price they paid for fame was indeed worth the fortune.

Sizzling & statuesque in a studio still -
Follies Bergere 1935

As for me, I no longer search for the house of the great screen actress in Kolkata. That legend died for me long ago, probably around the time 'hired-help' & 'maid-servant' were planted in my brain... & yet I still adore Merle Oberon as the eponymous Cathy in 'Wuthering Heights'. I muse also at the irony of her many roles where she is cast as the 'exotic' temptress, painted-up, no less, to accentuate her obviously Eurasian features - features she’d have, no doubt, tried to subdue & placate over a lifetime.

Merle perfecting Persian Princess Pose

in 'Night in Paradise' 1946

****EPILOGUE****

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Indian Ocean a little boy & his school mates, waited in breathless anticipation for the hungry hang-glider to touch-down in old Melbourne town. It was 1965, & the delicate contents of that giant, mechanical bird in the sky soon spilled out onto the tarmac in eminent style. Along with the crates, cachets & carriers, came the 'STAR' - small, slim, ivory-skinned & hugged tightly by a foxy-white mink stole...Merle Oberon, advanced in age, though ever charming, strode past with an air of vintage pedigree. The social-studies teacher reminded the now infatuated young boys, it took about 11 hours to fly from Kolkata to Melbourne.

KOLKATA... INDIA... JUNGLE-BOOK! - The mind was on a mission....

# The Maharajah mascot of mechanical elevation

The little boy ran home to his mother & his world atlas, both formidable, frequent fonts of knowledge. He pointed to the bendy Bay of Bengal & pronounced euphorically, 'One day I will visit there. I will ride on an elephant. Catch me a tiger. And find me a wife.'

That little boy was my future husband...
Funny how things work out! Xx

#

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#All Writing & #Photos by Rani.C (Char)

#Other images taken from 'The Romantic life of Merle Oberon' - Charles Higham & Roy Moseley (Personal Copy). Fanpix.Net & 'ACertainCinema.com'

*Nicholas Galanin Flickr.com

**Screen-Capture from 'Imitation of Life' - Douglas Sirk (Personal Copy)

***From the 'Punch' Victorian Era Cartoon Series 'The Indian Mutiny' (Personal Post-Cards)

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Hands Of An Artisan - Master & Apprentice

Way back in the day, when individuality, originality & all-encompassing beauty were a prized & ‘Pulitzered’ commodity, certain measures were taken to ensure their incontrovertible uniqueness: some ridiculous, others barbaric, many justifiable. Among the most memorable examples of protecting beauty are the Hollywood starlets of old, who’s limbs of loveliness were insured by their studios for poster-girl posterity - notably, Betty Grable's legs, which were insured with Lloyds of London for a cool million in the 1940’s.

'Pin-up' princess in stone, Konark Temple

Further back in history, fierce competition, pride & privilege sent limbs flying, with legend recounting the outrageous orders of Emperor Shah Jahan (after the completion of the Taj Mahal) to have the right hands of his builders CUT CLEAR OFF!! Similar anecdotes concern Ivan the Terrible in Russia & Prague’s Astronomical Clock - where Hanuš, the clockmaker, was blinded, by order of the realm, to avoid his work ever being repeated.

Master 'pattachitra' painter at Puri,

Raghurajpur artist-village

Drawn directly with a brush 

using natural colours, no outline

Setting gold in a Jewellery die

Truth or tall-tale, such was the passion & reverence for artistry, creativity & ingenuity, that people could not bear the thought of duplication or imitation…nay, imitation was not flattering at all…it was downright disloyal & akin to the most serious crime. Born of this age-old need to protect intellectual & artistic property, of course, comes the present day trademark, label, patent & copyright.

 

Master 'Iron-Man'/blacksmith, custom-making 
a Rani-Designed frame

Back-breaking rug-making

Metal draw-pulls hand-made for the Palace!

But how do we patent the road-side floral-artist, the village seamstress or even the cobbler? No less artisans, who’ve often learned their skills from a Master, usually Master-Grandparent, & ply their trade, sometimes as lifelong apprentices, with the same finesse & aptitude found in the finest atelier. Where is their insurance policy? What drastic & dramatic measures do we take to preserve & value their incomparable work?

 

Indian gajra-making - a fine & delicate art

Marigold chains of devotion

Working since a boy, this cobbler is no shoe-in 

I don’t suppose in today’s world of monotone, mediocre, morphed & maddening sameness, where fakes flog themselves flagrantly & authentic is a 'flavour' not a virtue. Where work is ‘borrowed’, ‘inspired by’, ‘taken from’, ‘copied to’ & in many, many instances pinched for the purposes of ‘CURATION’ (the modern catchphrase for the oft uncredited)…True value can scarcely be gleaned. Skill comes from devotion & dedication, artistry from feeling, sensation & observation, & discipline from respect for detail & obeisance to our teachers, forefathers/mothers & the like. Value does not come from a lauded label, gormless gimmick or transitory trend, all of which, too often, mask misappropriation. When value is lent to the imposter at the expense of quality, artisanship suffers, true meaning is lost and all is undermined.

Silt from the river-bank

Spun into solid shape

Fired into earthenware

The functional & decorative artisan depends on you - dear patron & connoisseur of beauty, the person with pennies & power to purchase - to see, respect, admire & reward his or her talent & power to create, through the fair exchange of money, supply & demand for quality products in a competitive market, increasingly dominated by inferior look-a-likes...this ensures that, while the privilege is ever yours, POWER will always remain in the palm of their hands…the hands of the talented, knowledgeable, not always upwardly mobile, & often unnoticed, expert Artisan.

Traditional hand-cut Chinese sign-board

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PLEASE CONNECT WITH ME ON IG or TWITTER  

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#All Writing & Photography by Rani.C (Char)

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