Walking is barely a concept around the lanes of Chandni Chowk’s Bhagirath palace, you can only ride the waves consisting of dozens of people around you; It is an introvert’s worst nightmare. Once you manage to enter said lanes, you will be blinded by brightly coloured strings of fairy lights hanging haphazardly in small, cramped shops. Although, if one’s neck is free enough to look upwards, the grand and majestic Bhagirath Palace will come into one's sight.
Begum Samru’s Haveli might not shine as brightly as the lights being sold below it, but it tells stories of the power and respect that courtesans could command, before the Raj stole their glory.
Tawaifs and their Fall From Grace
Before the British colonial era, Tawaifs held esteemed positions as courtesans within the courts of Mughal aristocrats. Revered for their multifaceted talents in dance, music, and intellectual pursuits, they enjoyed proximity to the elite of society, fostering their education and refinement. However, the advent of British colonialism brought about a profound shift in societal attitudes towards Tawaifs.
The imposition of Victorian moral values by British colonists ushered in a period of drastic societal transformation. Victorian ideals, emphasising modesty and propriety, clashed with the perceived immorality of the Tawaif tradition. British administrators viewed the artistic pursuits of Tawaifs as incompatible with their moral standards, leading to harsh judgement and stigmatisation. One significant consequence of colonial rule was the loss of patronage for Tawaifs. Traditionally supported by royalty and the aristocracy, they found themselves without financial backing as colonial rulers withdrew support. This economic decline contributed to the marginalisation of Tawaifs, pushing them further to the fringes of society.
Social stigmatisation compounded the challenges faced by Tawaifs, relegating them to the status of social outcasts. Legal restrictions, such as the Contagious Diseases Acts, further constrained their activities, limiting their freedom and autonomy. Once revered as intellectual and artistic figures, Tawaifs were now derogatorily referred to as 'nautch girls' by the British, highlighting their diminished standing in society.
To survive in the face of changing circumstances, some Tawaifs adapted by pursuing alternative professions or performing in more commercialised settings. However, the decline of classical arts and the erosion of the Tawaif tradition posed a threat to their cultural legacy, risking its eventual obscurity.
In the 20th century, Tawaifs gained renewed attention in literature and films, particularly in Hindi cinema. Depictions of Tawaifs often romanticise their lives, portraying elaborate musical and dance scenes characterised by vibrant costumes and intricate choreography. However, these representations often diverge from the harsh realities faced by Tawaifs, highlighting an inconsistency between cinematic portrayals and historical truth.
The renowned historian Salim Kidwai shares an anecdote about the real lives of courtesans, he stresses on how the glamour associated with courtesans was sometimes exaggerated. He says, “While in conversation with one of the Baijis, she told me how sometimes aristocrats or Nawabs would gift her expensive Benarasee sarees if they were pleased with their performance, and how the courtesan would cherish it and wear it in a mehfil (performance) or two, before changing into her normal, plain clothes.”
In Vikram Seth’s ‘A Suitable Boy’, which was later adapted into a Netflix series, Tabu's portrayal of an elderly courtesan, Saeeda Bai was both realistic and tender. It showed the sadness and loneliness faced by courtesans, veiled behind carefully adorned sarees and richly bedecked necks. Indian literature indeed does a very good job of humanising courtesans.
It would be a shame and a grave injustice to talk about Tawaifs and not mention Begum Akhtar. Along with elevating her own status as a Tawaif, she empowered her entire community of artists. Homosexual men especially were besotted and smitten with Begum Akhtar and her work. Begum’s songs were mostly about yearning and love, which is something homosexual men could identify and sympathise with.
Sanjay Leela Bhansali carries the burden of properly portraying the tawaif culture now, with his latest series ‘Heeramandi’. The leading ladies heavily decked with jewellery retells the lives of courtesans living in Lahore’s red-light district, Heeramandi. But it gives rise to the question as to whether the show is glamorous, or glamorised? While it is hard to assume that it brings justice to the struggles faced by courtesans, it sure erases the notion that courtesans were just dancing girls, devoid of intellectual thought.
Considering the rich portrayal of the culture surrounding Tawaifs, even in mainstream media, I believe it is time to recognise their contributions to society. It is time to erase the stigma and taboo associated with the word ‘Tawaif’, and see them for what they always intended to be, intellectuals and artists.
Shambhavi Naithani is a journalism student from Christ University, Bengaluru. Views expressed by the author are their own.