No one gives space to anyone, you have to make space

Shibli Mohammad is a renowned dancer and choreographer of Bangladesh. He received training in dance under Birju Maharaj at the Kathak Kendra in India. Alongside ballet and contemporary dance, he also received a one-year training in tap and jazz at the London Ballet Theatre School. For his special contributions to the art of dance, Shibli has received the Ekushey Padak and numerous national and international awards and honours. Recently, he sat down with Views Bangladesh at his residence to share about his dance journey, the art of dance, and his family life. The interview was conducted by Farjana Kabir Aishe.

Views Bangladesh: You first received dance training at India’s Kathak Kendra. Let’s begin the interview with that experience.

Shibli Mohammad: When I went to India to learn dance, I was a complete novice. I had no idea about dance. I applied for an Indian government scholarship, and luckily, I got it. At that time, I was in my final year of honours in Physics at Jahangirnagar University. I thought—what should I do? My elder brother Sadi Mohammad was studying at Santiniketan then. My guardians told me, “You’re studying Physics, and now you want to go into dance? Male dancing isn’t socially accepted in Bangladesh, people look at it with disapproval. Why this sudden madness?”

Then my second elder brother Shamim Mohammad—he was the heart of the family—supported me and convinced my mother. I also got support from Kader Sir of our department at Jahangirnagar University. All the other teachers and my classmates said, “Go for it.” Sir said, “You go. You can attend the tutorials when you come home on vacation. And during the final exams, you can take a long leave and come back.” So, I left for Bhatkhande Music College in Lucknow. I stayed there for about one and a half to two years.

I realised the standard there wasn’t for me. It was mainly for those who had been learning dance since childhood. Since my scholarship duration was very short, my guru, Shrimati Purnima Pandey, told me, “Take this letter and go to Delhi.” In Delhi, Pandit Birju Maharaj—my revered guru—was the central figure at Kathak Kendra. I went there with the letter. He read it and was surprised, saying, “You’re from Bangladesh?” At the time, he had students from all over the world—but none from Bangladesh. He said, “I’ll take you, but you’re a complete beginner. Here we teach advanced students.”

Then I begged him with folded hands. His beloved student, Shashwati Sen—who now holds his place—was originally from Barishal, Bangladesh. She had a soft corner for Bangladesh, so she said, “Guruji, please take the boy. He seems sincere. I feel he’ll do well. Besides, the letter says—he’s very talented.” Anyway, he took me in. That was the beginning of my journey.

At first, I struggled terribly in class. The girls in my hostel, especially my rakhi sister Malati, helped me immensely. She helped me so much that I started working incredibly hard and achieved results that set a record at Kathak Kendra. I practiced for hours on end. But I didn’t know what my future would be. I thought, how could a dance form be so beautiful, so advanced? I had never seen a male perform classical dance before. Truly, I hadn’t. When I saw how magnificent the dance was, I became completely devoted to it. That’s how my journey began.

Views Bangladesh: Why do you think participation by new dance artists in Bangladesh is not increasing?

Shibli Mohammad: I don’t agree—there is plenty of participation, so many dance programmes. There are thousands of dancers in Bangladesh. We ourselves have thousands of students. The question might be—why aren’t names like yours emerging? We keep hearing: won’t there be another Shibli, another Nipa in this country? I have two answers here. I won’t belittle anyone by saying they don’t practice, nor that they don’t devote themselves as we did. I believe in two things. First is stardom—the kind of fame that lets you reach people instantly; that takes luck. Without the Creator’s grace, it simply isn’t possible. Second, when we entered people’s hearts there was only one channel in Bangladesh—Bangladesh Television. Any special programme meant Shibli–Nipa. Dance shows, magazine programmes—after seeing us so often, my face became so familiar that even now, if we’re out on the street, everyone recognises us. That’s why I say: now there are so many channels, good dance is shown, people watch dance on YouTube, the scope has expanded a lot—but the audience is at a loss over what to watch and what to skip. That’s why another star hasn’t emerged in our country. Yet in our time there were many more talented artists. Even now there are good dance gurus. How many names should I mention? There are many, many.

Views Bangladesh: There’s an allegation that senior dancers aren’t giving space to juniors, which is why new major dance artists aren’t emerging. What’s your take on this?

Shibli Mohammad: [Laughs] Did anyone give me space? No one gives space to anyone. You have to make space for yourself. Space becomes yours through your own merit. No one can occupy a place forever. It’s like flowing water—you can’t hold it back. At some point it will overflow, or if you release it, it will spread everywhere. If you have talent, no one—junior or senior—can stop you. No one gave me a place either. I earned it through my own merit.

Views Bangladesh: Does dance in South Asia set male dancers apart from the region’s traditional masculine norms?

Shibli Mohammad: Dance is, in fact, a bit of a different flavour. Like cooking, which is often considered a women’s job. In the same way, in our subcontinent, the perception is—dance is for women. But in global terms, dance is a top-tier art form, and we see that men are often more skilled and refined in it. Many of the world’s greatest dancers are men. Just like in the culinary world—look at all the top chefs. Have you ever seen an auntie cooking at a five-star international hotel? Men cook there.

When someone dresses as Krishna or Gopal, he’s adorned with a beautiful tip (bindi) on the forehead, paired with Radha, or plays with the gopis with long hair—these are traditional representations. Dance was born out of Hindu mythology. I don’t think there is a separate dance form for Muslims in this region. So initially, people found it difficult to accept male dancers. But that concept is gone now. Today, men dance so beautifully that gender doesn’t matter anymore. Though, of course, it did matter once.

Views Bangladesh: We know that most streets in the Mohammadpur area of the capital are named after kings and emperors; but ‘Shaheed Salimullah Road’ is named after the martyred freedom fighter Salimullah—your father. How do you feel when you pass through a street named after your father?

Shibli Mohammad: I lost my father. After him came our struggle. We were little—we ate whatever was given. We were never demanding children. We knew our father was no longer there. Our house was burned down. Our father was killed. As we grew up, struggling through life, we realised the road that was once called Quaid-e-Azam Road is now Shaheed Salimullah Road—named after my father. When I go through it, it feels really good; but it also saddens me. Many houses or shops have signboards that say only “Salimullah Road”—but if the word “Shaheed” isn’t added, people might get confused and think it’s named after Nawab Sir Salimullah. I’ve seen some houses where it says “Shaheed Salimullah”—I fold my hands and express gratitude to them. To those who don’t have it, I respectfully request—with folded hands—please add the word “Shaheed.” Only then will my father live on forever; otherwise, he may be forgotten.

At the same time, I feel pride—pride that my father, through his sacrifice, contributed something—however small—to our freedom, our map, our flag, our passport, and above all to my identity as a Bangladeshi. I feel a deep gratitude to him—it’s because of what he did that we have our independent country today.

Views Bangladesh: During the Liberation War, your house was burned down—could you please share that harrowing memory with us?

Shibli Mohammad: Whenever I talk about it, I become nostalgic. It was right after Juma prayers on March 26. Until March 23, the red-green flag of Bangladesh flew over our house. At night, many helicopters dropped arms at various places in the dark. There were targets. On the 25th, when the Black Night began, everything was surrounded. There was a blackout. We siblings were very young then. There was no opportunity to escape. Our house was surrounded. During Juma prayers, my father went to the mosque. Then we heard a gunshot from the mosque, and someone said, “They fired at this house.” They set fire from downstairs. We were upstairs—such a terrifying situation. No one knows how we came down. My mother jumped from the first floor and broke both her legs. With untreated legs, she ran. She somehow managed by applying ointment. And with those broken legs, she raised her children.

Later, when my mother aged, she had to use a wheelchair. She had no strength left to walk. But they killed my father on the street right after Juma prayers. Then a group of Biharis was taking us away saying they’d keep us safe. I couldn’t tell where my elder brother, younger brother, or middle brother were. We were a bunch of children—just like chicks running behind a hen—we were following our mother like that. From a distance, I saw my father's body lying beside the road. We wanted to go to him, but our elder sister and mother didn’t let us. I looked and saw his body lying there. Whenever I remember my father, this is the scene that comes back the most—his body lying on the road while we were walking away. It’s such a painful memory.

Views Bangladesh: What is your assessment of the overall state of dance in Bangladesh?

Shibli Mohammad: The overall state of dance is quite good—very good, in fact. The level of practice that takes place across the country is astonishing. When I visit different districts for workshops, I’m amazed to see how many children are learning dance. They’re learning with dedication and care—and doing it well. Seeing the choreography of many makes me genuinely happy. I could name quite a few who are doing exceptional work. It fills my heart with hope that yes, there is real potential here.

Views Bangladesh: What do you think is necessary to make the younger generation more interested in dance?

Shibli Mohammad: Those who want to learn dance should treat it as a form of devotion. It’s not just a form of entertainment. Without cultivating professionalism and treating it as a dedicated pursuit, it’s impossible to become a good artist. To young children, I’d say this: learn dance with dedication, commit yourself to the practice, and dream of reaching a goal—of becoming a true artist. If you want to become a good artist, you must devote yourself to it. Only then can you reach your goal.

The interview was transcribed from audio by editorial assistant Shahadat Hossain Towhid