Unveiling Indian women
By Khushwant Singh

IT took European artists to open the world’s eyes to the beauty of Indian women. Some were able to capture them in their sketch books or on canvas: by riversides while bathing, drawing water from wells or going to temples. A few managed to enter harems by pretending to be doctors; others went to kothas of prostitutes to enjoy nautch and mujra. Quite a few maintained harems of their own which they bequeathed to their successors; some married them and had children through them. All this continued from the time the first European put his foot on Indian soil till the middle of the 19th century. Then white women started arriving inIndia and put an end to the fun and games between men of their skin and native women.

Pran Nevile, a former diplomat, has opened up this gold-mine of inter-racial sex from libraries of rare books and paintings in England. His latest is a coffee-table book, Beyond The Veil: Indian Women in The Raj (Nevile Books). It is evident that what attracted European men most towards Indian women were their beautiful eyes and full bosoms — both woefully lacking in their own women. They also found Indian women’s rich, brown complexion more attractive than the raw ham-like skin of their women. The plethora of paintings of Indian women from different sections of society have been compiled in one book for the first time.

There are dozens of memoirs penned by Europeans on their encounters with Indian women. Also reams of poetry:

Where the deep blue waters glide,
By the lonely river-side,
With a stately step she trod,
Like a daughter of a God.
Bright her brow as the autumn moon,
Black her locks as the clouds of June,
Round her neck as the ring-dove’s throat,
Sweet her voice as the koel’s note,
Slender her waist as the lion’s mate,
Stately her pace, as the elephant’s gait.
Dark her hair as the long black snake,
Lovely her hand as the pride of the lake,
Graceful her arms as the creeper’s shoot,
Ruddy her lips as the Vimba’s fruit,
Golden her face as the champak’s hue,
Blushing her cheeks as the rose bud new,
Smooth her limbs as the plantain’s stem
Piercing her eyes as the polished gem
Whiter her teeth as the Jasmine’s smile
Strong in her beauty a saint to beguile.

Every English household with children had ayahs to look after their babalog. While memsahibs were enjoying sundowners with sahiblog, ayahs were singing lullabies to put their babies to sleep:

Nini baba nini
Muckan roti chini
Muckan roti hogiah
Chota baba so giah

Nevile has done well to publish the book himself. He knows he will make a killing.