A furious row has erupted in India over textbook images of the 4,500-year-old ‘Dancing Girl’ bronze from Mohenjo-daro. The National Council of Educational Research and Training – known as NCERT – has removed the full figurine from Class 12 history books, replacing it with a headless, torso-only shot. Critics accuse the government of sanitising history and bowing to prudish sentiment.
The original statuette, discovered in the 1920s, shows a naked young woman with one hand on her hip. She is unclothed except for bangles and a necklace. Educationists argue that the new cropped image hides her identity and robs pupils of a proper understanding of Indus Valley civilisation.
NCERT defends the change. ‘The new image focuses on the artistry and craftsmanship,’ a spokesperson said. ‘There was no intention to hide anything. The torso clearly shows the ornaments and posture.’
The row has reached Britain. Sir David Attenborough, the naturalist, once called the Dancing Girl ‘a masterpiece’. The British Museum, which holds artefacts from the same period, expressed ‘concern’ over any move that ‘limits access to cultural heritage’. The Indian High Commission in London said it was ‘an internal academic matter’.
But the controversy touches deeper questions. This is not about prudery alone. It is about who decides how history is taught. The NCERT revision is part of a wider overhaul of school syllabuses that critics say pushes a nationalist, Hindu-centric narrative. The removal of the full Dancing Girl image is seen by some as a symptom of a wider trend: the quiet cleansing of India’s diverse past.
Parents and teachers in the UK have watched the debate with unease. In British schools, the Indus Valley civilisation is part of the Key Stage 2 curriculum. Many textbooks include the Dancing Girl. ‘Removing her from the Indian syllabus sets a worrying precedent,’ said Dr Amrita Singh, a lecturer in heritage studies at the University of Leicester. ‘The statue tells us about gender, about craft, about daily life. A headless torso tells us almost nothing.’
Meanwhile, the Indian government has been promoting cultural pride through events such as the recent G20 meetings and the UN’s International Year of Millets. Yet the textbook row suggests a selective pride: one that embraces India’s ancient achievements but shies away from its bodily freedoms.
The Dancing Girl stands (or stood) as a symbol of a sophisticated urban society that valued art and female confidence. The new torso image reduces her to an object, a mere display of metalwork. In stripping her head, the NCERT has also stripped her story.
As the row continues, British scholars and museum directors have offered to loan full images or replicas. ‘We should not let this bronze become a diplomatic embarrassment,’ one curator said. ‘It belongs to the world.’
But the real casualty may be the schoolchild in Delhi or Mumbai who now will only see her as a thing without a face. That loss of connection to a founding civilisation is something no curriculum should enforce.
