Walking down the street from Ajmeri Gate to Jama Masjid, one can’t help but imagine a time when beautiful and talented women once lived in plush apartments, behind intricately carved wooden jharokas. Music would pour out from these quarters, the sounds of their anklets would chime in unison, and men would often linger on the other side of the road facing the balconies in hopes of getting a glimpse of a famed tawaif (courtesan). While nowadays the word is often used with negative undertones, a glimpse into the history of Chawri Bazaar is enough to make one realise how tawaifs were once the cornerstone of culture, dance and music. Chawri Bazaar, or Bazaar-e-Husn (marketplace of beauties) as it was once called, once served as Delhi’s centre of entertainment and luxury. The women who made Bazaar-e-Husn such a place of beauty, grace and culture were often shrouded in mystery and enigma. They were women who were trained to appreciate good music and literature, write ghazals, sing and dance professionally, and, above everything else, be a picture of poise, grace and beauty. While sexual relations often existed between the entertainer and the patron, it was most definitely not a guaranteed service. According to Gaurav Sharma, a history researcher who has been conducting heritage walks since 2016, some tawaifs would be so coveted that on the occasions they would venture out of their mansions, they would use covered palanquins to avoid passersby from catching a glimpse of their famed beauty. The tawaifs had to follow tough regimes to hone their art. According to Sharma, girls often began training at a very young age and would not debut before at least 7 to 8 years of training in kathak, thumri, mujra, poetry, and Urdu literature. Even after debuting, the women would go through rigorous training under the tutelage of famous ustads. According to Lata Singh’s paper “Visibilising the 'Other' in History: Courtesans and the Revolt”, these courtesans would support and finance poets, scholars, dancers and musicians of the time. Such command they had over the culture that young Nawabs would often be sent to them to learn etiquette (tehzeeb) and Urdu poetry and literature. “The courtesans were professional and business women, making an independent life for themselves.They owned property and paid taxes,” notes Singh in her paper. One of the most notable of British-era tawaifs was Mubarak Begum. According to William Dalrymple’s White Mughals: Love and Betrayal in Eighteenth-Century India, Mubarak was born in a poor Brahmin family from Pune. Over the years, she rose through the ranks and caught the eye of the then British Resident David Ochterlony and later married him. After Ochterlony’s death, Mubarak used her inheritance to build a mosque in her name — a privilege granted only to the nobility. However, as the British hold over India strengthened, so did their puritan culture and perspective. Though the British did indulge in courtesans, it was nothing as compared to the enthusiasm of their predecessors. Singh notes in her paper, “The British government overlooked the artistic and creative element of the kothas and equated them with brothels. The identity of the courtesans was adversely affected.” According to Veena Talwar Oldenburg’s Lifestyle as Resistance: The Case of the Courtesans of Lucknow, in 1856, the British took control of Oudh (Awadh). As dissatisfaction with the East India Company intensified, the tawaifs actively participated in the uprising, operating discreetly. Their kothas, earlier centres of all matters of philosophy and culture, now served as meeting places and shelters, hubs for rebels. “After quelling the rebellion of 1857, the British turned their fury against the powerful elite of Lucknow. The courtesans' names were on the lists of property confiscated by British officials for proven involvement in the siege and rebellion against colonial rule in 1857,” notes Oldenburg. Now falling under the purview of Britain's Contagious Disease Act of 1864, the British government could regulate and control these women’s livelihoods while at the same time using a rather narrow lens to view it. They were labelled immoral and their art was wholly discredited, while at the same time they were preyed upon by the Britishers who would whisk them away to Cantonments for their own personal pleasure. Despite being heavily penalised and regulated by the authorities, these women still managed to keep the light of their independence burning. They kept double ledgers, bribed policemen, or even publicly denounced the taxes asked of them. Oldenburg argues rather poignantly that the tawaifs continued to pursue their livelihood, in the face of increasing societal disapproval, in defiance of patriarchal values, and in the face of the imminent death of their art.
