My candle burns at both ends

Who will listen to the tale of my woeful heart?
Far and wide have I wandered on the face of this earth
And I have much to impart

It is not a coincidence that the earliest novels of the Subcontinent dealt with the intense and memorable characters of 'nautch girls'. Essentially a colonial construct, a nautch girl referred to the popular entertainer, a belle beau who would sing, dance and, when required, also provide the services of a sex worker. The accounts on the marginalised women from the 'dishonourable' profession are nuanced, concurrently representing the duality of exploitation and empowerment.Long before feminist discourse explored and located the intricacies of sex workers' lives and work, male novelists during the 18th and 19th centuries were portraying the strong characters of women in the oldest profession. Stereotypes of the hapless and suffering prostitute rarely find mention in texts from that time, but one early novel, written in Urdu, is Mirza Muhammad Hadi Ruswa's Umrao Jan Ada. While the Lucknow-based poet Ruswa is said to have persuaded Umrao to reveal her life history, many critics have surmised that the narrative was authored by Umrao herself. The tone and candour of the story suggests that Umrao played a significant role in drafting this semi-documentary piece.Umrao's woes originated in a typical patriarchal mould. As a young girl, she was kidnapped by a hooligan and sold to a Lucknow kotha (a high-culture space also operating as a brothel) managed by Khanum Jan. This act was the hooligan's way of seeking revenge against Umrao's father, who had testified against him. At the kotha, an erudite, elderly maulvi transformed Umrao into a civilised poet-cum-entertainer, educating her in the arts and culture. Her seeking knowledge and acquiring confidence to handle a predominantly male world takes place within this space. Thus, the tale of exploitation turns into a narrative of self-discovery.An archetypal courtesan steeped in Avadhi high culture and manners, Umrao Jan Ada comes across as a voice far ahead of her times. In her frank conversations with Ruswa, Umrao explains how a sex worker's only friend is money. The realisation that a dancing girl would be a fool to jeopardise her livelihood by giving her love to a man was a clear expression of her empowerment. The plain rejection of wifehood in Umrao Jan's worldview was directly rooted in the decision not to trade independence for an institutionalised relationship, despite the respectability that such an association might offer. The empowerment of Umrao is in many ways linked to her profession. In an age where women were completely dependent on men for financial and social sustenance, sex work emerged as a safety valve for her existence. And Umrao remains contemptuous of courtesans who leave their position of power and independence, and subject themselves to the whims of respectable men who may or may not reciprocate by according them social respect.The novel also chronicles the disruptions caused by the deepening of colonial rule, and Umrao is quick to recognise that her survival is linked to the British. She witnesses the destruction of Lucknow, which was at the centre of the 1857 Mutiny and the subsequent crackdown by the British, recording how her kotha was destroyed. Resignation as well as proactive adjustment to political and social changes is a theme that runs across the book. Towards the end of the novel, Umrao is not only a thoughtful woman but also a stronger one – neither fatalistic nor depressed about her life. For its robust yet ambiguous portrayal of characters and vivid glimpses of mid-19th-century Uttar Pradesh courtesan culture, Umrao Jan Ada remains a great novel straddling the layers between the empowerment of a woman and her exploitation. The female characters in particular come alive on the page – Khanum Jan, the kotha madam; Bua Hussaini, a housekeeper in her old age; and Umrao's contemporaries, Bismillah Jan and Khursheed.

Avadh novel
Prior to Umrao Jan Ada, another Persian text, Fasana-e-Rangeen (1790), translated into English as The Nautch Girl in 1992 by Qurratulain Hyder (and translated into Urdu as Nishtar in 1893), is arguably the first novel of the Subcontinent. This autobiographical novel by Hasan Shah narrates the story of an East India Company munshi (clerk) and his doomed love for a dancing girl, Khanum Jan. While in the service of the Englishman Ming Saheb, in Cawnpore (Kanpur), the young Shah spots a beautiful dancing girl in a visiting troupe under the patronage of the English saheb. Ming Saheb also lusts after Khanum Jan, the femme fatale, who rejects his advances. Ming then shifts his attention to another member of the troupe while the confident Khanum Jan falls in love with the lowly clerk. The story is likely an autobiographical one. Eventually, the starry-eyed lovers enter into a secret marriage. Jan, however, leaves Cawnpore with her troupe when the English officer is transferred and his patronage ends.The hallmark of this novel is the portrayal of Khanum Jan, who appears as a confident, educated and strong-willed character. Her ability to say no to a gora saheb and her subsequent subversion of her place in the troupe by secretly marrying Shah are remarkable for 18th-century India. Even though Khanum vowed not to be a courtesan all her life, she does not leave the troupe. Though not as empowered as her successor, Umrao, Khanum Jan is cognisant of her social position and responsibility as an employee. While this remains a simple story of love in times of change in India, the nuances of human behaviour portrayed announce the arrival of the Indian novel. It is noteworthy that the heroine of the 'first Indian novel', to use Hyder's phrase, happens to be a dancing girl.Avadh (Oudh, later the United Province) state, formally annexed by the British in the mid-19th century, was a hub for the political and social transformation of India. Amid these changes, the voice of dancing girls is distinct, reasoned and powerful. To echo Hyder, the case of Oudh reminds us of the famous verse by Edna St Vincent Millay:My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night
But, Ah my friends and Oh my foes
It gives a lovely lightAs Hyder puts it, Oudh was India's Camelot, where Khanum Jan becomes the torchbearer of an emerging high culture; and Umrao Jan, like a burnt candle, narrates its denouement. Umrao, in the twilight of Oudh culture, reflects the realisation of empowerment within the patriarchal fold. It should be remembered that Hazrat Mahal, the wife of the last ruler of Oudh, was also a dancing girl, and issued a farman (edict) defying the British and declared that the state had nothing to do with religion. The blurred boundaries between warriors, sex workers, rulers, poets and entertainers was informing the public imagination thus leading to a repositioning of dancing girls in Victorian India.