Tawaifs, also known as baijis, were female artistes from northern India, renowned for their contributions to music, dance, poetry, and even the freedom struggle. Contrary to their often-misrepresented portrayals in Indian cinema, tawaifs and their residences, called kothas, served as cultural institutions where the nobility learned etiquette, dance, music and more.
Over time, however, these women were reduced to the status of courtesans, and their art was often disrespected. Despite their significant contributions, tawaifs were marginalised and denied the recognition they deserved. Many popular songs composed and written by them are still used in Indian cinema, often without proper acknowledgment. This was highlighted by renowned Kathak dancer Manjari Chaturvedi during her lecture, The Lost Songs of the Courtesans, held recently at the Indian Music Experience in JP Nagar, in collaboration with the Bangalore International Centre.
Manjari Chaturvedi from the recent talk. | Photo Credit: SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT
“The tawaifs had a certain music and a dance associated with them, but how it has remained in our minds today is what is important. For many of us, tawaifs are not artistes, but sex workers. Male performers of erstwhile courts were considered ustaads; women also performed the same music, songs, and dance pieces in the same palaces, but were remembered as just singers or dancers or mujra performers. History has always been written by men, and unfortunately, so has the history of tawaifs,” said Manjari.
Presenting three clips of the popular song Bajuband Khul Jaye from different time periods, Manjari explained how creative liberty destroyed the history of tawaifs and how their reputation changed. “Bajuband Khul Jaye, a song by Ustaad Bade Gulam Ali Khan, was performed by many tawaifs, and heard by a small percentage of people. There is a version of it by Jagjit Singh too, which some people prefer. However, what stays in the mind of many Indians, is the Lata Mangeshkar version of the song from the 1954 Hindi film, Bazooband.”
“In the film, the song depicts women dancing and men enjoying their performance even as liquor flowed and the audience grew unruly making suggestive gestures. This shaped the memory of people for the next two decades — they believed tawaifs danced, sang and performed like this. We, as an audience, did not even question why this was shown in a certain manner. With creative liberty, the history of these women has been destroyed.”
“Similarly, another song, Hamar Kahin Mano Rajaji by Begum Akhtar, a tawaif, was cherished by a very few in North India. It was recreated by Asha Bhosle, Mahendra Kapoor, Lata Mangeshkar, Usha Mangeshkar, and Mohammad Rafi with music by Madan Mohan, in the Hindi film, Dulhan Ek Raat Ki (1967).”
“Again, the dancers in this song become the representatives of tawaifs, though it was nothing close to their actual lives. Tawaif songs were usually passed on orally and were not written down or documented, however over the years during the era of gramophones, some songs by tawaifs were recorded.”
Still from Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s recent release Heeramandi. | Photo Credit: Ruth Dhanaraj
“Mohe Panghat Pe, the iconic Bollywood song featuring Madhubala and sung by Lata Mangeshkar, in K. Asif’s Mughal-e-Azam (1960) that is heard by music lovers even today was originally sung by a tawaif named Indu Bala. Yet, nowhere in the film is Indu Bala credited. Several songs like these, including a few from the latest popular web series on tawaifs,Heeramandi, have failed to credit original singers and composers,” she added.
Over the last 15 years Manjari has been running The Courtesan Project, a medium to draw the attention of society towards erstwhile courtesans and how discriminatory practices impacted not only their life but also their families. It is also a platform to give tawaifs the credit they deserve for their contribution to Indian culture. However, when Manjari started the project, she faced severe criticism for doing so, from family and friends.
“When I started this project and wanted to present the first show, there was absolutely no support. Sponsors were ready to help only if I removed the word courtesan or tawaif. I decided to do the show without sponsors and it was a full house! People took to calling me a mujra performer, but that did not stop me from continuing with the project.”
Manjari admits that her solo effort is not enough to unearth the history of tawaifs or give them the respect they deserve. “We need more people to come forward to learn their traditions and save their culture. With the technology and skills we have now, projects like these could go places.”
