Sultana Bibi looked the girl up and down. She was pleasant to look at, with fair skin and thick, long hair. But she didn’t have it in her. She shook her head at Ghaffur. A surprised Ghaffur took the girl out. He returned with a quizzical look on his face. He was seething with anger from the insides.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She is pretty and can easily be trained. I have been out all day searching for a suitable girl and here you sit, chewing your paan and making a fool of my hard day’s work. Do you know how much I convinced this girl’s parents to let her come? Twelve girls from morning and not even one that you liked.”
Out came a volley of scathing accusations.
Sultan Bibi looked up at Ghaffur from her seat. She studied his face quietly for a few seconds. Poor fellow, she thought to herself. He is yet to learn the ways of a kotha. As a livid Ghaffur stared at her, she contemplated disposing of him.
No, that would not be prudent. Besides, the boy was young and new to Chandmahal. He would learn gradually that kothas were matriarchal and that losing his temper with a woman around here, would lose him his job.
Sultan Bibi spit out her paan in a leisurely manner. She looked up to Ghaffur and spoke.
“Do you know what would have happened to you, if I had not taken you in? ”
Ghaffur gave her a sheepish look and mumbled an apology.
“This is the finest Kotha in the whole of Banaras. I have a reputation to maintain. I will not have sub-standard girls for tawaifs here. If I have deemed my very own Kainat as unsuitable, then understand that I will spare no effort in finding a suitable candidate. You understand me boy?” Sultana barked.
“Yes Bibi”, replied an embarrassed Ghaffur.
“Now don’t stand there with a long face. Go and get me the girl that I am looking for.”
“Yes Bibi. But…”
“But what boy? Speak up fast, I need to rest.”
“But why did you reject her? She seemed alright to me.”
Sultana Bibi chuckled upon hearing this.
“My dear Ghaffur, the girl didn’t have ‘it’. Now you might ask me what is this ‘it’?
Well, to understand what the ‘it’ is, you must be a tawaif.”
“But Bibi, you could train her and teach her the ‘it’.” Asked Ghaffur innocently.
“No no no. The ‘it’ can never be taught. You are either born with it, or you aren’t. It is not like the music or dance that we teach here. It cannot be mastered. The girl was very pretty, no doubt. But to become a tawaif of Chandmahal, you need to have much more than just beauty. The girl didn’t have the wits to sustain here. She would’ve never survived the industry. Now be gone and let me rest.”
“Yes Bibi”.
Sultana Bibi lay back and thought for a while before she drifted off to sleep. She thought about her own introduction to the kotha, a good twenty-seven years ago.
She had been so very frightened. But she had been wise and didn’t let the fear show on her face. Her parents had been assured that she would be well taken care of. She had been pragmatic even at the tender age of ten, knowing that her family would benefit greatly from this transaction and that this would pave the way for freedom from the banal and oftentimes difficult life of a house-bound wife. She had been Mehek Bai’s prodigy.
Mehek Bai had been the most shrewd tawaif that Chandmahal had ever seen. She had had a certain smartness to her that attracted men and women alike. Mehek Bai had liked Sultana from the moment she had seen her. She doted upon her. She had seen in Sultana a sharpness that would be required to lead Chandmahal and maintain its glory. Mehek Bai’s efforts with Sultana had paid off. When Mehek passed away unexpectedly, Sultana held fort and ensured that the kotha functioned like normal. It was rare for such a young tawaif to hold the position of leadership in a kotha. But Mehek Bai had made it clear in no uncertain terms that Sultana would be her successor. And no one, no one ever went against Mehek Bai’s orders.
Sultana had been an obedient daughter to Mehek and it was rumoured that their relationship was stronger than what Mehek had shared with her biological daughter.
But now, Sultana Bibi worried. She knew that her Kainat was not going to be groomed to become a tawaif. She needed to find her own prodigy. She needed to find her own Sultana. Oh! Why did Mehek Ammi have to leave her so early!
The next day, Sultana Bibi made preparations to entertain her new patron- the zamindar of Bundeli. He would be seeing her in two days time. Aditya Mishra was a powerful man. He had liked Sultana Bibi immensely, when he first attended one of her mehfils. It was not her beauty or eloquence that had attracted him, but in fact her knowledge about the world. She was well versed in literature and was known to be an avid reader. She was aware of the current political scenario of India and spoke earnestly about the impact of the arrival of the British to India. Yes, she had captured his attention in a unique manner.
The morning was spent looking into the finances of the kotha. The musicians dues had to be paid, the tabla’s had to be repaired and a new flautist had to be hired. Decisions, decisions, decisions!
After her afternoon nap, Sultana Bibi prayed. She prayed for help in finding the next star of the kotha. When she emerged from her chambers, she saw Ghaffur waiting patiently outside. He held a young girl by her arm and looked mildly amused.
She beckoned them to enter.
“Bibi, I found this little urchin stealing these bangles from Kainat’s closet.” said Ghaffur, brandishing the bangles in one hand and maintaining a firm grip around the girl’s arm with another.
The girl stood calmly in front of Bibi, her eyes fearless. But her shaking legs betrayed her true emotions. She had a steely glint in her eyes. She had flawless skin, not too fair, but fair enough to distinguish her from a crowd. Her long hair was tied thickly in a plait and it reached her waist. She seemed to be around eleven or twelve years of age. She had a well-chiseled face structure, with arched eyebrows, a prominent jawline and long eyelashes. Her nose was perfectly sized. Her high cheekbones were the most noticeable features of her face.
Allah has answered my prayers, thought Sultana Bibi.
Sizing the girl up and down, she knew she had found her Sultana.
She had ‘it’ in her. She had the ‘it’ in dollops.
“What’s your name, girl?” asked Sultana menacingly.
“Asha.”
The girl had a fine, strong voice.
“Why did you try to steal the bangles, Asha?”
“Because I liked them.” pat came the reply.
The girl knew what she wanted.
“Are you sorry for attempting to steal them?”
“No Baji. I am sorry that I got caught.” The reply was polite, yet proud.
The girl knows how to speak smartly.
Sultana Bibi was impressed. She made up her mind.
“How old are you, Asha jaan?”
“I turned ten last month.”
She was tall for her age.
“You are tall for your age, aren’t you?”
“I am told so.”
Confident, yet not conceited. Intriguing, thought Sultana Bibi.
“Tell me Asha jaan, why can’t your parents buy you bangles?”
The girl kept mum.
Good. She knew how to keep secrets.
“Ghaffur, pack some money and come with me. Asha, take me to your home. I wish to speak to your parents.”
By the end of the day, Asha was adopted by Sultana Bibi. Asha came from a poor family and her parents were ready to have her live with Sultana Bibi, as long as they received a monthly allowance. Asha would be allowed to visit her home, until her initiation as a courtesan. After that she would have to sever all ties with her family.
The girl seemed happy with her new mother and new house.
That night when Ghaffur went to bed, he pondered over the strange ways of the tawaifs.
Men were subservient to the women. The women were educated, men were not. The women took all the decisions, the men didn’t have a say in them. Girls who were keen on learning the Tawaif tradition were rejected and impish bangle-thieves were favoured over them. The birth of a girl was celebrated and that of a boy was lamented.
It was as if the Kotha had its own set of rules and regulations, which stood in strong defiance of mainstream society. Ghaffur was correct in thinking so.
The Kotha indeed served as a gateway to another world. A world where women ruled.
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