The modern gaze encompasses a peculiar arrogance as we look back at the past. We view history as a linear narrative of progress; a transition from the primitive to the sophisticated, or from puritanical ideology to liberal beliefs. However, a closer inspection of visual and literary archives from the Indian subcontinent reveals that the past wasn’t as monolithic as we believe it to be. There is abundant evidence of queer intimacies in India that subvert our constructed narrative about sexuality and gender across ancient temple carvings, Urdu and Persian poetry, Sanskrit literature, and Mughal miniature paintings. These records aren’t merely astounding due to their remarkable artistry, but also because they reflect how naturally these desires existed as a dimension of human life, transcending the modern labels we use to describe them.
This 17th century painting is attributable to Govardhan, a celebrated Mughal-style painter patronised by prominent Mughal emperors, Jahangir and Shah Jahan. It captures a quiet, intimate moment between two women seated together on a terrace. The composition centres on their physical closeness as one drapes her arm around the other in a shared, loving gaze. The ornaments adorning them allude to their aristocratic status, as their intimacy is framed by nuanced elements including a glass of wine and a peacock feather fan, common visual motifs in amorous Mughal-style paintings.
During the Mughal rule, specifically from the 16th to the 18th century, Mughal miniature paintings flourished in the Indian subcontinent. Commissioned by emperors and wealthy aristocrats, these illustrations were compact but intricate, coloured with opaque watercolours and powdered gold. The unique perspective used to depict subjects distinguish these illustrations from other art styles: typically, the face was drawn in profile and the body was positioned frontally or in a three-quarter angle. Initially painted in the North Indian Mughal courts, by the 1700s this style of painting diffused across India, reaching as far as the Deccan courts in the south. While the illustrations maintained minute regional differences, they were primarily inspired by the quintessential Mughal art style. Since these paintings were commissioned by the nobility, they were not made for mass consumption, but for archives and libraries in regal courts or the personal use of aristocrats.
Within these royally patronised paintings lies an oeuvre of work depicting female intimacy and homoeroticism within the zenana, the women’s headquarters or harem in the palace. Most of these paintings feature a central Sapphic pair gazing into each other’s eyes, a common trope in heterosexual Mughal paintings, often amidst maidservants fanning them or serving wine. The 18th century Mughal-style painting above features two amorous female couples in the zenana accompanied by maidservants: the couple in the centre are the focus of the painting as one kisses the other’s cheek and cradles her face, whereas the couple on the right are pressed together as they clutch onto one another. The couple positioned centrally are attended by two maidservants on the left serving them wine. It is believed that red wine symbolises desire and love’s intoxication; the deep red symbolising the longing for a lover’s lips and their heart. Another common trope in Mughal-style Sapphic painting is crossdressing, as depicted in the painting below. At first glance, the painting seems to depict a heterosexual couple surrounded by maidservants. However, on closer inspection, it is revealed that the one wearing a turban is a woman cross-dressed as a man; the sheerness of her attire reveals her breasts, and the henna on her feet also attests to her femininity.
Unlike Mughal-style paintings and portraits of men, illustrated with elaborate details that portrayed their individual characteristics, women were painted without any distinctive attributes. Following a uniform template, women were illustrated as idealised beauties with unremarkable features. Since the women in these illustrations are unidentifiable, it is implausible to interpret these paintings through personal histories. The lack of detailed calligraphy adds to the obscurity surrounding these paintings and makes it difficult to ascertain the context of their production. However, most intimate paintings depicting domestic spaces and personal lives were made for muraqqas, albums; unlike court manuscripts which chronicled the life and achievements of the emperor, they were made for private viewing.
There are several conjectures about the source of these paintings. It is presumptive that sexually explicit homoerotic paintings were commissioned for a voyeuristic gaze by noblemen since these paintings are attributed to male painters who were typically patronised by wealthy aristocratic men or rulers. While it was relatively uncommon for female aristocracy to commission paintings, it was not entirely unheard of; wealthy patricians used to commission paintings for personal muraqqas. Although the scant information about the context of these paintings cannot be used to draw conclusions, it can be speculated that these paintings were reflective of the life within the zenanas and the homosocial and homoerotic intimacies within this women-exclusive sanctuary. Perhaps, some of the instances depicted in these paintings were the lived realities of the women there.
Most homoerotic Mughal-style paintings were acquired by British officials from the East India Company, and thus eluded the national archives. The British had an austere ideology regarding gender and sexuality, and were appalled by the gender-fluid expressions in South Asia. Following the conservative Victorian-Christian morality, they criminalised homosexuality and gender-nonconforming identities. Perversely, the British officials presumably collected these illustrations not as symbols of hidden romance, but as Oriental fascination. To the British eye, these paintings were a reflection of the exotic decadence of South Asian culture and evidence for the ‘licentiousness’ that required the imposition of Victorian morals. Even now, most of these paintings are exhibited internationally in galleries like the Victoria and Albert Museum, London or auction houses like Christie’s.
The narrative generally imposed by the conservatives in India views the concept of queerness as a “Western import” or a consequence of colonialism. However, gender-nonconforming identities and queer intimacies were more common in South Asia before the colonial rule. Apart from being an exquisite visual archive, this oeuvre of Mughal-style paintings suggests that homoeroticism and same-sex intimacies were not alien to Indian culture. Instead, queer narratives were marginalised from the narrative constructed for the nation which conveniently fuelled the conservative rhetoric.
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