\u201c\u2026 Nisbat\u2019s speaker reveals her urban sophistication by shopping for a dildo. She declares Calcutta models superior to local ones and is willing to spend extra for a dildo made of whalebone or leather. Although she prefers the \u201creal thing\u201d to a toy, she finds the latter useful in an emergency. The poem ends humorously with the dildo disappearing from her trunk and her crying out that the mischievous creature has run away.\u201d<\/p>\n
-Gender, Sex & the City: Urdu Rekhti Poetry in India, 1780 \u2013 1870, <\/em>Ruth Vanita.<\/p>\n A mention of dildos\u00a0(sabura)<\/em> in Urdu poetry came as a sheer surprise to me. In a canon that is overwhelmingly preoccupied with the many shades of unfulfilled love, the references to dildos might leave a reader quite incredulous.<\/p>\n But it\u2019s not just dildos that sit unseen in Urdu works. It\u2019s an entire genre of poetry known as rekhti<\/em>, which was characterised by a female speaker and preoccupation with women\u2019s everyday lives. It is counterposed to rekhta<\/em>, the \u201cliterature narrated in the masculine voice\u201d<\/a>. While both employ the ghazal format and its metrical and rhyme schemes, rekhta<\/em> traditionally genders the lover and beloved as male, a convention inherited from Persian poetry. Its main theme is unrequited love, though many love poems could also be interpreted as yearning for the divine. For instance, this verse by Ghalib<\/a>:<\/p>\n Nind us ki hai, dimaagh us ka hai, raaten us ki hain (Sleep is [his], peace of mind is [his], the very nights are [his] Rekhti<\/em>, on the other hand, focuses on women\u2019s relationships and their everyday activities and preoccupations. Take these verses by Insha Allah Khan\u2018Insha\u2019:<\/p>\n \u0100<\/span><\/a>g lene ko jo <\/span>\u0101<\/span>\u2019<\/span>\u012b<\/span>n<\/span> to kah<\/span>\u012b<\/span>n<\/span> l<\/span>\u0101<\/span>g lag<\/span>\u0101 Na bur<\/span>\u0101 <\/span>m<\/span>\u0101<\/span>ne to lun<\/span> noch ko\u2019<\/span>\u012b <\/span>muthi bhar (When she came to take fire, an attraction took hold; If you don\u2019t mind, may I seize a handful or two? It eschews the heavily Persianised register of rekhta<\/em> and employs a more colloquial cadence. In rekhti<\/em>, the addressor is female, though the beloved can be either female or male. It is these allusions to lesbian love that many commentators found obscene. Interestingly, however, most rekhti<\/em> poetry is written by men, some of whom dressed up as women and wore make-up during public recitals. This later provoked another criticism \u2013 that men could not \u2018authentically\u2019 capture \u2018women\u2019s experiences\u2019 and performed it merely for titillation. There were female rekhti\u00a0<\/em>poets too, but almost none of their works are extant.<\/p>\n With rekhta\u00a0<\/em>upheld as the paragon of Urdu poetry, many scholars considered rekhti\u00a0<\/em>inferior. However, prejudice against rekhti<\/em> is not simply a thing of the past. In an article<\/a> on rekhti<\/em>, historian Rana Safvi recounts, \u201cWhen I first decided to include rekhti<\/em> in a #shair<\/em> schedule, purist members were outraged that I was trying to defile Urdu ghazals, since rekhti<\/em> too is written in that form.\u201d<\/p>\n In such a literary landscape, Ruth Vanita\u2019s\u00a0Gender, Sex & the City: Urdu Rekhti Poetry in India, 1780 \u2013 1870 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012)<\/em>, the first book-length study in English of rekhti<\/em>, is an invaluable resource. It knocks down baseless assumptions about the genre and digs through the colonial impact on Urdu criticism to uncover its rich legacy. Vanita emphasises the interplay and overlaps between rekhti<\/em> and rekhta<\/em>, suggesting that the two are inseparable, rather than discrete, entities.\u00a0<\/em>She also explores the subgenres that rekhti\u00a0<\/em>spawned, such as chaptinama<\/em>, which described erotic relations between women.<\/p>\n As Vanita parses the rekhti<\/em> repertoire, she lays bare the lives of women and paints a canvas of life in Delhi and Lucknow in the 18th<\/sup> and 19th<\/sup> century. In doing so, she marshals evidence against commonly held assumptions and brings forth fascinating historical nuggets. The Nawabs of Awadh, for instance, have long been derided as decadent and effeminate rulers, a description which wiggled its way into later literary and cinematic representations, such as Premchand\u2019s\u00a0Shatranj ke Khiladi<\/em> and Satyajit Ray\u2019s film of the same name. However, drawing on the works of other commentators and the evidence presented in poetry, Vanita declares that it was also a time of prosperity and vibrant artistic production in which women played an important role. Women of the royal family, courtesans, prostitutes, singers and dancers exercised cultural influence and many from humble backgrounds rose to positions of power. She adds that polygamy, \u201cgenerally read as evidence of women\u2019s subordination\u2026 allowed some women social mobility\u201d in the Awadh court. The world that shines through rekhti<\/em> is one where \u201cwomen are important shapers of urban culture, especially urban speech\u201d and \u201cwell-established binary categories like courtesan\/respectable woman, mistress\/servants, high\/low language, and lover\/beloved\u201d are upturned.<\/p>\n The Nawabs\u2019 portrayal as effeminate is also because of the variant norms of masculinity prevailing in Victorian England and 19th<\/sup>-century north India. Take the bankas,\u00a0<\/em>for example, a subculture of men known for their stylish attire and looks as well as their martial skills. Vanita explains that they \u201cwere perceived as simultaneously dandies and warriors, whose pride in appearance was inseparable from valor and honor\u201d.<\/p>\n In this milieu, men and women interacted not only in the context of a family or as lovers, but also as friends. Courtesans were fairly independent and men were free to form non-sexual bonds with them. These close friendships are perhaps one of the reasons why rekhti, <\/em>despite being written by men, gives an insightful account into women\u2019s lives. Vanita writes, \u201cWhen I present rekhti\u00a0<\/em>today, particularly to feminist audiences, listeners express surprise that men could have been so sympathetic to women\u2019s relationships and emotions and could have been interested in details of fabrics, jewelry, dress, cosmetics, and other female accoutrements\u2026 I have even been asked if I am sure the writers were male.\u201d<\/p>\n However, Vanita makes sure to not romanticise rekhti\u00a0<\/em>poetry and the society in which it was propagated. While acknowledging the elevated status of women in the Nawabs\u2019 courts, she adds that many were also sexually exploited by courtiers, and killed or exiled by jealous rivals. Lest one thinks that the Hindu references in rekhti\u00a0<\/em>poetry and the Nawab sponsoring grand Holi celebrations in Awadh pointed to some halcyon days of Hindu-Muslim harmony, she tempers it with mentions of a communal riot in 1829 and armed conflict over the Ayodhya dispute in 1855.<\/p>\n *****<\/p>\n
\n<\/span><\/em>Teri zulfen jis ke baazu par pareshaan ho ga\u2019in<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n
\nUpon whose shoulder lie strewn your scattered tresses)<\/p>\n
\n<\/span><\/em><\/span>B<\/span>\u012b<\/span>b<\/span>\u012b <\/span>hams<\/span>\u0101\u012b <\/span>ne d<\/span>\u012b <\/span>j<\/span>\u012b <\/span>men<\/span> mer<\/span>\u012b \u0101<\/span>g lag<\/span>\u0101<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n
\n<\/span><\/em>Begam<\/span>\u0101 <\/span>har ter<\/span>\u012b <\/span>ky<\/span>\u0101<\/span>r<\/span>\u012b <\/span>men<\/span> har<\/span>\u0101 <\/span>s<\/span>\u0101<\/span>g lag<\/span>\u0101<\/span><\/em><\/i><\/p>\n
\nThe neighbor lady lit a fire in my heart<\/p>\n
\nYoung lady, greens grow in every bed of yours!)<\/p>\n