In work an ayah, in the kitchen a cook, in business a bania, in bed a courtesan. If you have them all in one person, you do not have to be polygamous – you have a one-woman harem.
We were in the restaurant Pasha, discussing the possibility of drawing up a gourmet menu consisting of the tastiest dishes from different parts of India which the patroness, Nargis Oomerbhoy, had made her speciality; she personally supervised every detail in the kitchen of her restaurant.
From food the conversation drifted to women: how to manufacture Shrimati India by combining the best of the features of the beauties of our land. ‘For complexion, nothing to touch a Kashmiri,’ exclaimed a Kashmiri. ‘She is fair but not as white as the European: she’s more like old ivory than raw ham. Also has beautiful eyes: almond shaped and as large as a gazelle’s. They can be as blue as the sky in autumn; they can be as dark as the limpid pools of Heshbon.’
‘You north Indians have more colour prejudice than South African boers. All you want of your women is that they be fair – the whiter the better. Give me the smooth ebony black of an Adivasi: Santhal, Munda, Oraon, Muria or Bhil – all have lovely skins. And what figures; bosoms that never sag, rounded buttocks that never become the shapeless mass of flesh your city women carry around.’ After some debate on old ivory versus ebony, we conceded that the Adivasi ladies have a figurative edge over their Dravidian and Aryan sisters.
Someone entered a plea for the lasses of Himachal and Rajasthan: ‘They are neither too fair nor too dark. They are neither as large as the Kashmiri, the Punjabi or the Jats of Uttar Pradesh or Haryana; nor as small as the Maharashtrians, the Gujaratis or the ladies from the South. Modest-sized bosoms, slender waists and bashful eyes.’ His remarks stung the Haryanvi: ‘The women of Haryana have all that in larger and healthier proportions. They are the only ones who know how to bear themselves like queens. See them stride along: ram-rod straight, flouncing their long skirts: Wahl! Wah!’
‘What is a woman without beautiful hair? And no women have hair like the Bengalis: raven-black and always long enough for them to sit on,’ said the Bengali. ‘They also have the most melodious voices. A woman may look like a swan but, if she has a harsh voice, she is no better than a crow. Our Bengal can produce a thousand Lata Mangeshkars.’
‘Too much Jabakusam,’ retorted a gentleman with disdain. ‘All Indian women put too much oil, butter or ghee in their hair. Somebody should tell them it doesn’t do any good. What is the use of hair if you cannot run your fingers through them?’
‘We are going off the subject,’ remarked a Tamilian. ‘The classic Indian beauty is the southern belle. Long hair, perfectly shaped eyes and with much more animation in them. Also, full bosoms, slender waists, large hips and the smoothest skins in the world. That is why they are the only ones that can do the Bharatanatyam. When a Dravidian beauty walks, you can hear the tinkle of ankle-bells.’
‘What about the Maharashtrians? They are the cleanest looking of any: always appearing as if they’ve just had a bath. For me cleanliness is next to godliness.’ ‘Looks do not matter as much as manner of speech and sophistication’ pronounced a roué. ‘And for that, it has to be a UP Muslim or a Bombay bawaji. You noticed both the influences in Indira Gandhi. She spoke like a cultured Lucknavi begum, she had the manners of a Europeanized Parsi and bearing like Sultana Razia.’
So the composite Indian woman was evolved: Kashmiri complexion, Bengali hair and voice, Adivasi bosoms, Haryanvi gait, Maharashtrian cleanliness, South Indian figure, Punjabi animation, Hyderabadi coyness, Lucknavi speech and bearing and Parsi sophistication. Then we proceeded to invest Shrimati India with traditional qualities: In work an ayah, in the kitchen a cook, in business a bania, in bed a courtesan. If you have them all in one person, you do not have to be polygamous – you have a one-woman harem.