Courting Courage| The Last Courtesan: Writing My Mother’s Memoir
Journalist, screenwriter and novelist Manish Gaekwad’s mother Rekha Devi, who died on February 14, 2023, was an eclectic, humorous, and free-spirited tawaif. In The Last Courtesan: Writing My Mother’s Memoir, he honours the artiste by telling her story as is.
In the introduction, Gaekwad admits entertaining the thought of killing his mother, mimicking the first sentence of the famous (Albert) Camus novel, The Stranger—‘My mother died today’. This, however, in no way measures up to the drama that unfolds; for, Rekha’s life, in summation, is a stranger to both fiction and reality. It’s unfathomable how she survived despite everything.
My Mother’s Memoir
By: Manish Gaekwad
Publisher: HarperCollins
Pages: 185
Price: Rs 599
Married off to a much older man at the age of nine or 10, in a bid to settle debt, Rekha’s parting gift from her family was just a bottle of pickle and the knowledge that husbands had a right over their wives’ bodies. The marriage, she soon realised, was a hoax when she found herself on a Calcutta-bound train to be sold off by her in-laws, who trafficked girls. Her sister-in-law, Pushpa, to whom she was handed over, lived in a “building with no name” but just a number—269—in Bow Bazaar, where “within the hubbub of melodies, stringing the air with a light touch of effervescence”, Rekha felt “safe”.
“Touch and go,” was all Rekha could make out of her life, as she was caught unaware by situations, which demanded her to adjust accordingly. But, it’s equally revelatory that her strength lay in facing the unknown. She groomed herself in Calcutta. Her dedication to her craft helped her fame reach far and wide. While patrons appreciated her talent, other girls thought her to be a wicked competitor. Rekha, however, was restless. Headstrong, she knew she had to free herself from Pushpa.
Interestingly, the language resembles the bending and recoiling Rekha had to do in the face of unprecedented events—all of which can put a Bollywood script to shame. After becoming the master of her fate, she says, “More than money, I was in control. I had seen money before. Now, I owned it. How should I describe that feeling? When the poor are no longer weak.”
The book is more than just another narrative of resilience. Its shapeshifting journey cuts across major historical events, and plays with a wide emotional spectrum. Further, it offers insights into the country’s mujra culture. Rekha’s story is perhaps the best argument to defend the claim that all stories matter. In her absence, her gritty stories come in handy to grieve her vibrant life. While her loss is irretrievable, it would have been a tremendous disservice to literature had Gaekwad decided against writing the book.