A Meeting Of Two Courtesans
Umrao Jaan and Vasantsena are soul sisters.
Draped from head to toe in gold, she walked like a beam of sunlight looking for a spot to radiate dust motes in the dark. She entered a van, startling another lady inside.
Sorry, I am, she had just begun to introduce herself.
Lilah, the other lady stood up and said, you are wearing more gold than I was sold for.
You are? the bejewelled lady asked.
Umrao, she answered. Umrao Jaan. She intoned like James Bond.
I am Vasantsena, the golden lady responded. I have earned this gold for what I am worth.
I don’t doubt that, said Umrao. You are exceptionally beautiful and alluring.
So are you, polite to a fault. Come, I want to show you more.
Vasantsena held Umrao’s hand and guided her outside the van, singing Mann kyon behka re behka aadhi raat ko.
Umrao laughed and answered, Bela mehka re mehka aadhi raat ko.
https://medium.com/media/4900025aaad88a585c4f4d4cbd966335/hrefKis ne bansi bajayi aadhi raat ko, Umrao asked, reacting to the sounds of a flute wafting from a thicket, like it was a musical sign for clandestine lovers.
Vasantsena chuckled and made it about a shy Umrao, singing to her, Jis ne palkein churayi aadhi raat ko.
They strolled past ancient neem and peepal trees, and entered a settlement.
Yeh kya jageh hai doston, Umrao cooed, wondering where Vasantsena was taking her.
https://medium.com/media/61c679734dde890c6e188b0c634d08d4/hrefYeh woh jagah hai jahan rishi Vatsayana ne Kamasutra likhi thi.
Vasantsena described the courtyard of the vaishyalaya where the two women were standing.
Oh, so this is not Faizabad, Umrao bit her tongue, then I am a perfect fit for this place.
No, no, you don’t say. I have brought you here to entertain us with you Lilah poetry. We do the rest of the work quite smoothly.
Umrao’s lips puckered in self-pity as the other not so modestly dressed girls giggled.
The scantily clad women of the vaishyalaya made her sing and dance all evening and then took the best-looking men into their bedrooms. They moaned and laughed aloud.
Justuju jiski thi usko toh na paaya humne, Umrao sang morosely in mehfils, iss bahane se magar dekh li duniya humne.
https://medium.com/media/57b48f10a696c57529b3015417ba5e75/hrefNo one understood the delicacy of her Urdu words or feelings. They clapped and hooted like unsophisticated people.
Not even a single wah.
The lascivious girls of the vaishyalaya spent all day gossiping about men’s swollen egos and tiny-bit merits, and toiled all night massaging them. Umrao felt left out, partly due to her own tehzeeb. She also wanted what they were having.
Umrao had to do something. She peeped into rooms and watched the twisted kama asanas, muttering Dil cheez kya hai aap meri jaan lijiye, bas ek baar mera kaha maan lijiye.
https://medium.com/media/fc21e0c16eb407d2bbd9ef92180fd5d5/hrefVasantsena said if you want to be like us then you will have to adopt our style.
Umrao readily agreed and began behaving churlishly, talking loudly to men and eschewing poetry and paan for crass behaviour.
Vasantsena personally trained her in the complex asanas.
In a month Umrao’s transformation from a soft-spoken poetess to a chatty harlot stunned everyone.
It was always in my ripped genes you see, Umrao said, defending her new lifestyle. In ankhon mein pehle se hi masti thi.
https://medium.com/media/e341229c0d4a7b84aa0e9a1e53a21e2c/hrefImpressed, Vasantsena let her be, but worried, she asked, who will teach us coquetry now?
Just then, Charudutt, a client of Vasantsena, playing a flute, sang Sanjh dhale gagan taley hum kitne ekaki, as he crossed the vaishyalaya at sunset.
Chhodh chale nainon ko kirno ke paakhi.
https://medium.com/media/2302cec5137da89db2d96da5f6729c03/hrefUmrao remembered the flute when she first met Vasantsena. It was his musical call for her. Both Vasantsena and Umrao rushed to get a glimpse of the man, his melodious voice mirrored their sadness.
Umrao responded, Jab bhi milti hai mujhe ajnabi lagti kyon hai, zindagi roz naye rang badalti kyon hai.
https://medium.com/media/3753c26cf46dcfecf0a6e2936bcbd8f2/hrefHer impromptu shayari elicited a wah from Vasantsena. It surprised Umrao. She missed the applause. Nothing else was worth living for here.
Umrao realised she wanted a life of singing and dancing and music. Charudutt’s voice had stirred those suppressed feelings. She missed poetry. She rushed out, sat in Charudutt’s cart and left the vaishyalaya.
When they reached another village, Charudutt worried how he, a poor man, would fend for their lives.
You don’t have to worry about that, said Umrao, as they entered his house. She dropped the black shawl she was wrapped in. Underneath it, she was studded in gold.
Will you lend me a hand to unhook these? she teasingly said to a shocked Charudutt.
I will show you a great asana in return, she cooed.
He dropped his flute and reached out for her humming neck.
https://medium.com/media/1562d953ef7e21a6053190dc6de515a7/href
