For the last few days, I have been heavily reading and researching about tawaif culture, right from its etymology to present day dilapidation of not just the profession but also words like 'tawaif', 'mujra', thanks to the latest Netflix show - 'Heeramandi'. And I am stunned to discover that there is so little literature on it.
As a school going kid I was always intrigued by the subcontinent's history, especially the Mughal period. So naturally, with the announcement of the show I was quite quickly drawn towards it. The 8 episode long web series does attract and takes us on a guided tour to the 19th century Lahore's locality, Heeramandi.
Heeramandi, originally set as a spice and grain market, and, I wish like the spices, the story also had some richness. While reading about the actual Heeramandi, I came across a photograph by Frank Horvat and it stood in deep contrast to what is being shown in the series.
The creator of the series is well known for his larger than life portrayal of not just the characters but also the surrounding and environment. That's his specialty, for which a considerable section of the audience applaud him. Well who does not want to see the grandeur, escape from the regular and live the life of royalty, even if it is for the limited time and fictive. Remember how as kids we loved to watch Disney princess stories, huge castles, flowy gowns, magical world? Well, Bhansali does that for grown up audiences.
No doubt that the show does transport us to a historical period and ignites our imagination through the extravaganza. Of course dance sequences and songs make it all the more rich, And frankly if not through such a popular commercial medium we would not have otherwise heard the ghazals and Hindustani classical music which dates back to our rich past.
All would have been fine if only there were a story in the series. The show runs and juggles between three to four tracks simultaneously and ends up bringing no justice to even one single track. At best it touches and goes. It abruptly merges the tracks into one leaving a farrago. Personally I feel it would have been better if one single storyline was dealt in detail. But here again comes the magic of Bhansali's cinematography and his show of opulence that captivates, inhibiting us to think and look beyond the grandiosity. It is safe to say that it feeds us its aesthetics.
Now comes my very humble attempt at problematizing a few things. Firstly, not just in Heeramandi but in his previous works as well, the director is seen making his women larger than life characters by romanticizing their pain. While I acknowledge that certain sections still hold onto women as sacrificial figures and pain bearers, such an idea is hugely archaic. Secondly, the women in question - tawaifs, their personalities - have been shown in two extremes- either they are the weak tragic figure or Machiavellian. Why can't the tawaifs be a normal regular woman? It is important to understand that back in that period they didn't see themselves as 'iconic' as they are often shown on celluloid. They were everyday women like one of us, living their life, practicing their profession, doing the chores. But in the series the characters don't seem to come out from eulogizing themselves. Yes, the vulnerabilities and complexities of human characters is definitely shown in the series however representations of the tawaifs just as loveless, melancholic or guileful characters is a very narrow understanding of womanhood.
The tawaifs of the 19th century were the not just the patrons of art and culture but, the empowered feminists of a time when women's lives were walled in and caged. They were not bereft of love. However, the popular media does not seem to get out of their conventional idea of love. They were in love with their art, with a life that dared to stand against the then societal order, storming out in the public sphere. It was their job to invoke the feeling of love (not titillate) through their art among their audiences - the noblemen and nawabs, in an environment and time which was devoid of love and kindness. So reducing them just to heartbroken tragic figures or the scheming ones is injustice.
Slowly awareness is growing around tawaifs not being equal to a prostitute. Yet I came across some reviews writing tawaifs and prostitutes, kothas and brothels in a synonymous manner, in the same line. While it is true that since colonial era till date their profession has been debased and they have been forced into prostitution but, it is to be kept in our mind that it is the 18th-19th century, we are talking about, where tawaifs belonged not just to the highest social rank but also were the guardians and practitioners of our art and culture. Well, all films built around Courtesanship have represented them just as girls being forced, exploited, bought and sold, dancing figures, titillating the men, seeking love, left heartbroken and that is how their image has been imprinted on our minds. Sadly some sections of our society are still stuck at a mindset where they cant view women as independent of their relationship with a man.
In the end, I would like to say that I would love if a filmmaker of tomorrow upholds tawaif as they were - upright, strong, independent, empowered women. They stood as a symbol of resistance against conservative norms marked by patriarchy. They should be represented not as titillating figures but the ones who held and passed on the art and culture. The focus should go beyond their life of love/conjugal/fornication and see them in their personhood. It's time that we humanize them and acknowledge their contribution to preserving and shaping our cultural history, and hold onto their artistic world, which is slowly disappearing now!
Photograph by Frank Horvat
Views are personal.
Written by- Hridi
All pictures are sourced from Internet
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