Review of Umrao Jan Ada: the courtesan of Lucknow; Mirza

Published under the title

Grace under fire

in Life (Businessline) of The Hindu Group of publications; 19 Dec 2008.

Book Title: Umrao Jan Ada The Courtesan of Lucknow, By Mirza Muhammad Hadi Ruswa (1857-1931)

Translators: Khushwant Singh and M.A. Husaini

Publisher: Orient Paperbacks Price: Rs 175

Reviewed by Shubashree Desikan
(see also link - http://www.blonnet.com/life/2008/12/19/stories/2008121950050200.htm)

The story of a woman in the "world’s oldest profession", as I hate to call it, is a kind of literary motif that every language has contributed to, in India as well. The courtesan, prostitute or sex-worker — as she is referred to variously — often comes across as an interesting character of contrasting images.
Nalini Jamila’s work in Malayalam is autobiographical: a stark depiction of the present — how poverty and treacherous love forced her into this profession; how she managed to support her family single-handedly.

In Tamil, Moovalur Ramamirtham was a pre-Independence writer; she rejected her devadasi background and worked with reformers to abolish this practice. Her novel is an unstinting political criticism of her community and an indictment against the wily practitioners of the trade.

Other novelists who have etched strong images of courtesans in India are Qurrat-ul-lein Hyder, in River of Fire, and Hermann Hesse, in Siddhartha.
Umrao Jan Ada by Mirza Muhammad Hadi Ruswa is unique in many ways. It’s a novel that has been translated, retranslated, filmed and even remade, several times over.

The story, as narrated by the author, is of young Ameeran, who is kidnapped by her father’s adversary as a means of getting even. She is taken to the Chowk at Lucknow and sold to the famous courtesan Khanum. Ameeran tries to escape, but finds she is doomed forever to work in the love trade.

Umrao, as Ameeran is now called, grows into a very fine poet; her talents in music and dance are unmatched, even by Khanum’s daughters. Her fame spreads and young scions of society are sent to her to learn grace and sophistication.

This fame is a mixed blessing, for while it makes her powerful within her own mansion, outside she is despised and abused by the respectable and conservative sections. She continues to walk with her head held high, enters palaces and exhibits her dance and poetry at mehfils, until even her detractors cannot but admire and respect her, however reluctantly.

Umrao pays the price of survival and success in many ways: despite her self-pride, in the outside world even women never hesitate to abuse her; her mother and brother reject her when she tries to return home to Faizabad; a passionate love affair with the handsome Nawab Sultan ends abruptly. Attempts to escape Khanum prove abortive. Finally, Khanum’s establishment is destroyed and Umrao moves to Faizabad, to live alone.

The novel is remarkable, consistent and stout in making a case for this woman who is determined to transcend the boundaries imposed on her, who holds tenaciously to her self-esteem and self-respect, and finds a way to celebrate her life, as every life ought to be celebrated.
The Urdu original contains many verses and phrases of common speech that have been translated skilfully. The novel is a must-read for all those who wish to rework their worldview of society’s marginalised sections with compassion.