HAREM LITERATURES: CONSTRUCTION AND REPRESENTATION OF IDENTITY
Life Writings and the Problem of Representation
As Marlene Kadar says, “when writers want to be read, they have to be more flexible and take more chances than the standard scholarly writing allows: often they have to be more direct and more personal” (2). In a broadened sense, life writing is often considered as one of the most celebrated genre by feminist literary critics, mostly a subject of gynocriticism. It is a kind of writing about ‘the self’ or ‘the individual’, at times resembling a biography or autobiography, but also embracing letters, diary entries and even journals. What makes life writing distinguished from other literary forms is that it need not be written by ‘literary figures of the high culture’, but also be inscribed by ordinary men and women of the common folk. When written by ordinary people, it becomes a part of the ‘non-traditional literature’ and may include personal narratives, oral narratives and life testimonies.
Albeit a mediator between the woman and the outer world, life writings are sometimes problematic because they tend to privilege an idea about what constitutes the ‘personal’ or the ‘subject’. Life writings about women by others often fail to provide an adequate representation of the ‘she’ whose life is being written down. As Cixous and Clement points out, “there is too little fiction available in which ‘her’ reality is embedded by ‘her’” (96-7). The authors, here, have rightly meant the ‘misconstruction’ of a woman’s identity and the resultant misrepresentation of her ‘self’ in different life writings. “She must be self-consciously created as the reader goes along and as she collects other readings, other theories, other orbits of a thing, she might recognize as self-consciousness herself” (Kadar 9). Ironically, what happens in certain life writings is that the author propagates his subjective impressions about the protagonist leading to a widespread delusion about the “represented persona”. Such life writings usually deviate from their very purpose to merely get themselves added into the category of fictions. In other words, life writing must be a critical practice that encourages the reader to develop a self-consciousness with which he/she will be able to “humanize and make less abstract the self-in-the-writing” (Kadar 9).

Harem Literatures and Life Writings
In the Eighteenth and Nineteenth centuries, Europeans navigated to various parts of the Eastern world for political or personal purposes. They explored different places, landscapes, cultures and customs; wrote about them as they liked and felt. However, one aspect of the eastern culture that the European men were not able to peep into was the harems due to strict restrictions from the Islamic religion. They wrote about “the exotic eastern women”, purely based on their patriarchal, Eurocentric, white, male ideology, which were completely flawed and erroneous. These erroneous notions became the foundations of the “knowledge” of the West regarding eastern women and harems. These biased representations dominated the Western conception of the East for a long time since then.
The only visitors permitted into these harems were women. By the end of eighteenth century, European women began to visit Eastern harems. Their writings radically differed from the descriptions made by European males. They were able to dismantle many buttressed beliefs from the minds of the readers boosted by the fantasies of male writers. Women writers were successful to some extend in removing many of the flawed assumptions on the sexuality and objectification of the women in harems. Thus, harem literatures began as an offshoot of women’s travelogues.
Billie Melman in her work Women’s Orients states that women writers were able to “normalize and humanize harems” (62). The Arabian Nights was a strong influence on these writers so that when they wrote about harems, they began to fuse magical fantasies in their scripts. Harem writings helped Western women to identify themselves with the plight of Eastern women, thus neglecting the boundaries of race for some time. They realized that whatever type the institution of marriage be, monogamous or polygamous, women were denied a space of their own. However, traditional harem writings were not successful in their intended mission, as the writers, later, began to these works as a way to quick bucks. Also, the Western readers began to see these writings as part of the desert romance, merely describing all the attributes of the East as ‘exotic’.
Life writings developed as the prominent genre in the 21st century, as a consequence of the developing subaltern studies, screening away all such wrong notions regarding the marginalized. They aim to tell the stories about these people in an impartial manner without being influenced by any superficial imprints within the writer. Rather than generating sympathy, life writings butt the readers to foster an empathy with these lives. They try to erase the abstract concepts within the readers mind regarding these people and fix a better, concrete idea about the lives described in these writings. 
Indian Movies as Life Writings
Harem literatures continue in the postmodern scenario under the blanket term Life Writings. Modern texts of life writings are better seen on screen in the form of biopics or other dramatic films. Women’s life writings should be something that is capable of “making new subject positions in that it potentially liberates the women writer or reader, transforming her from silent victim to ‘engaged survivor’”, says Janice Willaimson (133). Like other life writings, harem literatures also try to bring under limelight the stories of the marginalized lives. Harem writings became so popular and celebrated that they called for a rising phenomenon, which may be called Harem Renaissance, a rebirth of the voiceless in the harems.
Without limiting herself to the traditional literary genres of poetry and prose, harems now find benchmark representations in movies all over the world. “Films, whether they are works of art or depict the realistic milieu, are not definitely larger than life…. They definitely convey a message, right or wrong and leave an impression, sometimes indelible, sometimes passing and fleeting for a moment” (Singh 28). However, in a closer observation, we can find these stories problematic. We can see that certain issues of representation, or rather misrepresentation, creep into the husky walls of life writings. These issues ensue when a subaltern life is discussed by someone in the mainstream. Differences can be traced in the manner when one speaks about oneself and about others, or better, ‘Others’. Problems of mediation occurs in life writings also. They tend to become fictional at times, taking up all the subjective, whimsical impressions of the writer and leaving behind the realistic, colourless experiences of the subject. Thus, life writings are now losing their intended tracks, moving on a path that they initially proposed never to follow.

Prostitute Representation in Indian Movies
“Men sense the contradiction in us. They observe our desire to be prey… in our fantasy life, we submit, even as in our real life we resist. In their fantasy life they resist even as in their real life they submit” (Rowbotham 21).
The depiction of female prostitution in Indian movies is a predominantly a product of male imagination which is modified to satisfy the requirements of a so-called realist medium. At the same time, these movies are supposed to fulfill the criteria of a patriarchal ideology.
Life writings on prostitutes can be exemplified via three popular Bollywood movies: Sanjay LeelaBhansali’s Devdas and Saawariya and Milan Luthria’s The Dirty Picture. These three movies mould before us pictures of harems which is strikingly different from the impression that we get from Nalini Jameela’s Njan Laingikathozhilali.A quick scan of these works may help to throw some light on the embedded issues of representation in life writings.

Devdas (2002) and Saawariya (2007)— The Twentieth Century Arabian Nights
Bhansali’s grand, epic movies, mainly known for their elaborate settings and spectacular visualizing techniques, are distinct in the way they treat their subjects. Widely discussed not only in the cinematic circles, but also among sensible audience, Bhansali has definitely struck the chord of admiration in his viewers’ hearts. But despite having tons of admirers, Bhansali has a lot of detractors also.
Sanjay Leela Bhansali, albeit having directed and produced a number of movies, became celebrated all over India with his box office hit Devdas released in the year 2002. An adaptation of the 1917 Bengali-romance by Sharath Chandra Chattopadhyay with the same title, the movie Devdas portrays the intense love of a wealthy law graduate, the eponymous hero, who returns to his native place after his studies from London, for his childhood sweetheart Paro. Owing to the disapproval of his family, Devdas disavows Paro, who in a shattered state marries another man. A devastated Devdas takes refuge in alcohol and ends up in a brothel where he is taken care of by a kind-hearted courtesan— Chandramukhi.
The fairy-tale beauty Chandramukhi, dressed up in opulent outfits, conforms to the heroine criteria of Bhansali, supporting her hero selflessly in his critical times, sacrificing all her personal pleasures, goodwill and her livelihood for his well-being. An ‘operatic’ dancer, whose subtle and sublime steps reveals her inner turmoil, Chandramukhi is elegantly eclectic and enduring. She is definitely a counterfoil to the egotistical and impulsive Paro who failed to see the tears of her destroyed lover. The hyper-real depiction of Chandramukhi’s brothel and its settings correspond to Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s magic realistic brothel in his famous work Chronicle of a Death Foretold. While her physical magnificence satiates the voyeuristic demands of a viewer, her intellect leaves us jaw-dropped and her benevolence remains us overwhelmed. We can see a Bhansali trying hard to justify the profession of Chandramukhi with his hyper-realistic metaphors and adjectives attached to her, yet unable to hush up his reverence for the pretty, innocent and “pure” Paro, when he makes Chandramukhi say “ aurat maa hoti hai, behen hoti hai, patni hoti hai, dost hoti hai, … aur jab who kuch nahi hoti, toh tawaif hoti hai” – meaning: a woman can become mother, sister, wife, or friend; and when she becomes none of this, she becomes a prostitute. Here is where we see the problem of representation sprouting up. This becomes explicit when Chandramuhi says “tawaifon ki toh taqdeer nahi hoti” – meaning: prostitutes don’t have a destiny. Paro in an encounter with Chandramukhi rebuffs her by saying that Chandramukhi is stunningly beautiful, but quite assuming, to which she replies “kaash aap samach sakthi hamare paas dil bhi hai”, meaning, if only you could realize that I have a heart too. Bhansali royally portrays Chandramukhi placing before the audience all the mis-concepts about sex-workers in the society, but not able to justify her completely nor able to see her objectively. What we see ultimately is a patronizing Bhansali who showers a lot of kindness onto a beautiful or rather “beautified” courtesan, simply sympathizing with what she is, only to idolize the conventional heroine Paro.




No different is the case with Gulabji, cast by Rani Mukherjee, in Bhansali’s melodramatic movie Saawariya, released in the year 2007, roughly based on Dostoevsky’s short story “White Nights”. Gulabji, also the narrator of the story, is a frequent visitor of luxurious RK Bar where she meets Raj, the hero. Unlike other men in the club, Raj behaves with her in a decent manner starting up a conversation by asking her name. Gulabji replies that who asks the name of a gulabji (prostitute); only her price is asked. Apart from Bhansali’s hyper-real set-up of a brothel in Devdas, he comes nowhere near Dostoevsky’s short story as Bhansali flagrantly resorts to an “overwhelming emphasis on kitsch visuals” (Wright 164). Red streets decorated with colourful lights, resembling a Christmas season, seductive women dressed up in slinky attires, with their lips stained deep red along with effervescent dance sequences suggest nothing more thana superficial filmy masala. The beautiful Gulabji, who gets attracted to the innocence and the manly voice of the hero, helps him to win the admiration of Zakina, the stereotypical Bhansali heroine. Zakina, just like Paro in Devdas, is ravishingly beautiful, chaste and unblemished, who waits steadily and completely for her lover, Imaan, who had left her on a note that he would be back. While Gulaabji believes that she is not at all worthy for the love of Raj, Zakina proudly upholds that she is a one-man-woman, no matter how impractical her vow is. The mouldingof Gulabji’sidentity become even more problematic in the movie when Raj approaches her to sleep with when he is forsaken by Zakina; thus proving again that gulaabjiis are only gulaabjiis, regardless of their sincerity and unconditional love. A deeply hurt Gulaabji throws him out of her brothel. The movie ends with a happy Raj, who succeeds in winning the love of Zakina, albeit she has to go when Imaan comes. However, there is no mention in the rest of the story about Gulaabji, substantiating Bhansali’s belief that gulaabjiis can make and tell stories of others, but never one of themselves.
These movies heavily relied on magic realistic depiction of harems since “fantasy provided escapism, innocent voyeurism and exploration of female sexuality” (Huddleston 4) for a group of spectators within the safe boundaries of silver-screen.

The Dirty Picture (2011)— The Woman’s Utopia
The Dirty Picture, directed by Milan Luthria (2011) has ushered in various debates around female sexuality through its sensuous representation of the adult actress Silk Smitha, the sex icon of the past generation, and the corpus of texts surrounding sexuality. The movie hit the box-office records of the time and also won much critical acclaim for its powerful portrayal of Silk and other major adult actresses of all time, like Merlin Monroe, who were used by their directors and producers merely to make their movies “spicy” and thus attract male audience. The movie strongly exposes the dirty hypocrisy of the film industries.  The film can be seen as making a strong political statement on society's attempt to regulate female sexuality. Most would contend that Silk existed in a largely exploitative industry that allowed little space for women and her overt objectification by the industry is broadly discussed throughout the movie.  
All the promotional material for The Dirty Picture, from the promos to the posters to the billboards presented a highly coquettish image of Vidya Balan, without any implicit critique of the same. Even the focus of the song 'Ooh La La', without much contention, is the depiction of the explicit sexualisation of the female actor's body in Bollywood. The body is fetishised when the camera focuses on Silk's / Vidya's breasts, her lips and her waist as parts.
What makes the movie different from the previous ones is its carnivalesque mode of picturisation and narration.  The ‘graphic representation’ of the ‘vamp woman’ and the obsessive spotlighting of her differences from other women using mechanisms such as enticing costumes, tempting gestures and overt display of body parts embodies the spirit of the carnival. Even though in a “dirty” manner, the movie uncovers a transgressive female morality that thrives beneath the regressive societal set-up and that constantly threatens to usurp patriarchal morality. However, this movie ends up as ‘woman’s utopia’. Luthria’s The Dirty Picture, as a biopic, has failed to fix its feet on the ground when it gives wings and colours to an introvert real-life Silk to become a power-packed counter-culture woman kissing her boyfriend in the public, drinking and dancing in parties, delivering applaud-hoisting dialogues in award ceremonies.

“Indian cinema caters to the public and helps them to escape into the illusions of fantastic dreams and opiates the masses” (Singh 32). Apart from that, Indian movies are not at all free, even now, from the patriarchal mores and try to suppress women’s autonomy completely in unbelievable ways. The three movies discussed here tries to represent the life of sex-workers and adult actresses. But we have to admit that they failed in a dispiriting mode.

Nalini Jameela’s Njan Laingikathozhilali
“It has been a female writer’s conundrum to determine the manner in which she speaks of her own life in a world where all ‘dignified’ narrative methods are based on male experience” (Napier 70). Women’s autobiographies have questioned and challenged the traditional concepts about autobiographies which were mostly a male-centered genre and male-dominated writing. Autobiographies that have always qualified to become the canon are mostly written by men and celebrate “the coherent, simple and unified lives of the exemplary individual” (Gilmore 255).However, women’s autobiographies are a challenge to such definitions. They show how “women’s lives are relational, tied to others and imbricated with communities” (Gilmore 255). The peculiarity of women’s autobiographies and life writings is that they are neither limited to any philosophical or theoretical boundary of self-hood as determined by patriarchal champs nor do they aim to reproduce a universal and homogenous self-hood. For women, writing an autobiography is seldom their objective. For them, this genre helps them to expose themselves or confess openly.
Nalini Jameela’s autobiography challenges all life writings about women by men. The suggestions of dual-religious dimensions in her very name propose the multifaceted complexities in her identity. Contradicting Chandramukhi in Devdas, Nalini is a daughter, sister, wife, mother and a friend. She has gone through all stages a woman can ever be in her life. What makes this personal account of Nalini Jameela different is its downright dodging of conventional writing styles. Jameela, in her preface titled “Ente Ezhuthupareekshakal”, makes it clear that in the autobiography she maintains a style of herself. She has written just in the way she speaks and thinks. This is because she made various attempts to write an autobiography in the “traditional, accepted” style; she was also helped by many in this process. But, later, she realized that a faithful portrayal of ‘she herself’ can be made only in her own style. She says that she doesn’t know if there are any universally accepted standards or rules of writing. And if there is one, Jameela says, “It is my decision to be the first one to edit such rules”. She adds that she did not follow any folk traditions when she took the decision to be a sex-worker. She is not at all ashamed to admit that she is a sex-worker, a profession just like any other. Carefully delineating how sex-work becomes a profession in the chapter “Can Sex Be Bought?”,Jameela points out that what is being sold is not romance or love. When a sex-worker spares a fixed time with a stranger, he/she is only agreeing it upon a certain amount as a reward. What he/she gives to the strangers is also a kind of tenderness and affection that they don’t get at home, though only for a limited time.It is better to agree that “those who don’t want needn’t buy” rather than to say “sell not”. She chose this profession to sustain her kidsafter her husband’s death. Normally, a woman used to get around Rs.2.5 as her daily wage. But the demand of her mother-in-law was to give Rs.5 daily at her home. Therefore, she was forced to find a “well-paid job” and she found one.
She gives clear sketches about various clients and their unique characters. She says that she had learnt from her very first client how man can be handsome and cruel at the same time. Raising certain fundamental questions about human sexuality, Jameela shows the headway of her character from a simple village girl to an active social worker:
Why is it so specific that all sexual relationships must end up only in family?  Why should a person wait till he/she enters a lifelong liaison to know about real sex? Who can decide that women are only to deliver and bring up kids? What is wrong in accepting lesbianism as family planning? Lesbianism is real family planning. The world doesn’t need that many human beings. Yet, those who believe that they are Brahma and that they should procreate the next generation can move on (Jameela 119).
 A strong member of ‘Jwalamukhi’, an organization to help and solve the problem of sex-workers, Nalini Jameela says that most social workers are concerned about the rehabilitation of sex-workers. She points out that this is something quite impractical. People who do not know about this profession cannot even imagine the social contacts required in this work. Therefore, what is important is to make sex-work not a crime. This is different from licensing brothels or certifying them by doctors or police. According to Nalini Jameela, sex is not to be questioned if two people engage in sex upon their will and if it doesn’t offend a third person. In such cases sex should not be something to be penalized.
What distinguishes Nalini Jameela’s autobiography from other life writings we have discussed in this paper its firm grounding in reality. She doesn’t try to garb herself or her fellow sex-workers in any “fantastic costumes” that separate them from ordinary women. Her autobiography establishes that sex-workers are autonomous women, who has got a dignity and will of their own. She doesn’t call for the sympathy of her readers nor does she try to attract the readers by narrating any personal sexual escapades. Instead, she boldly invites us into the unseen and unspoken lives within a “company” (place where sex-workers live in) and the various problems she had to face in her lifetime as a sex-worker. Autobiography of a sex-worker portrays the power vested within each woman to adapt to whatever situations she is put in and establishes her body as the ultimate manifestation of that power.

WORKS CITED

Campbell, Russell. Marked Women: Prostitutes and Prostitution in the Cinema. Madison, WI: U of Wisconsin, 2006. Print.
Cixous, Helene, and Catherine Clement. The Newly Born Woman. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota, 2008. Web.
Devdas. Dir. Sanjay Leela Bhansali. Prod. Bharat Shah. Screenplay by Prakash Kapadia. Perf. Shahrukh Khan, AishwaryaRai, Madhuri Dixit. Mega Bollywood Pvt Ltd, 2002.Devdas. DVD.
Gilmore, Leigh. Autobiographics: A Women’s Theory of Self-Representation. Ithaca: Cornell U, 1994. Web.
Huddleston, Diane M. "The Harem: Looking behind the Veil." Western Oregon University. Digital Commons, 2012. Web.
Jameela, Nalini. Njan Laingikathozhilali. Kottayam: DC, 2013. Print.
Kadar, Marlene. Essays on Life Writing: From Genre to Critical Practice. Toronto: U of Toronto, 2014. Web.
Melman, Billie. Women's Orients: English Women and the Middle East, 17181918. Place of Publication Not Identified: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014. Print.
Napier, Taura S. "Pilgrimage to the Self: Twentieth Century Irish Autobiographies." Modern Irish Autobiographies. N.p.: Palgrave Macmillian, 2007. 70-89. Web.
Rowbotham, Sheila. Woman's Consciousness, Man's World. London: Verso, 2015. Print.
Saawariya. Dir. Sanjay Leela Bhansali. Prod. Sanjay Leela Bhansali. By Sanjay Leela Bhansali, Prakash Kapadia, and Monty Sharma. Perf.Ranbi rKapoor and Sonam Kapoor. Columbia Pictures, 2007.DVD.
Singh, Indubala. Gender Relations and Cultural Ideology in Indian Cinema: A Study of Select Adaptations of Literary Texts. New Delhi: Deep & Deep Publications, 2007. Web.
The Dirty Picture. Dir. Milan Luthria. Prod. Ekta Kapoor. Screenplay by Rajat Arora. Perf.Vidya Balan. ALT Entertainment, 2011.DVD.
Williamson, Janice. "I Peel Myself out of My Own Skin; Reading Dont: A Woman's Word."Essays on Life Writing: From Genre to Critical Practice. Toronto: U of Toronto, 1992. 133-37. Print.
Wright, Neelam Sidhar. Bollywood and Postmodernism: Popular Indian Cinema in the 21st Century. Edinburgh: Edinburgh U.P., 2017. Web.




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