This chapter probes the relation between realism and the georgic in the latter decades of the nineteenth century. The georgic is generally not associated with that period, and realism was allegedly on the decline. Yet, in focusing on an agricultural setting in rural Bengal, Lal Behari Day’s novel Govinda Samanta, or Bengal Peasant Life (1874) vivifies the connection between the two in ways that enhance both our understanding of the modes of colonial critique as well as the dispersed evolution of literary genres.

Located on a large delta, eastern India confronted a series of ecological challenges in the previous centuries – from the filling up of marshy lands to deforestation. But its developed state of agriculture and handicrafts placed it at the forefront of the country’s economic development, attracting foreign traders to settle therein, and finally to establish their rule in this region. But the question is: how did its economy perform during colonial rule? Indeed, the economic environment that it confronted was not always conducive. Initially, it received a boost from the trading activities of the Company. But later on, an uncongenial environment followed, ruining its age-old industries. Also, many opportunities emerged, thereby giving rise to many modern industries. The chapter seeks to highlight how eastern India’s economic development was shaped during colonial rule. Apart from agriculture and industry, it discusses the development of transport facilities, and also demographic issues, including migration.

The chapter surveys the economic consequences of the 1947 Partition. It highlights that these were long term and complex, not confined to the ‘hotspots’ of Punjab and Bengal, but subcontinental in scale. Borders disrupted transport and river networks. Large-scale violence destroyed homes and properties, while refugee resettlement profoundly impacted the socio-economic fabric of major cities, notably Calcutta, Delhi, Lahore and Karachi. As most manufacturing units were in India, Pakistan began with a relatively weaker industrial base. The economies of Punjab and Bengal were impacted in multifaceted yet divergent ways. While economic effects in Bengal were largely deleterious, the Punjab quickly overcame adversity, emerging as a pioneer of the Green Revolution. Pakistan emerged as a geopolitical anomaly. Disparities in per-capita income and resource-sharing vitiated relations between eastern and western wings. Border regimes created economic silos, restricting labour mobility, especially in Bengal. Ports and maritime networks were impacted, bilateral trade suffered due to exchange rate disagreements and conflicts arose over water sharing, necessitating international mediation.

Agriculture was the main pillar of the Indian economy under British rule. Production increased in the second half of the nineteenth century, when the agricultural area expanded, the cultivation of cash crops spread, irrigation networks were extended and export of agricultural commodities increased. In the first half of the twentieth century, production stagnated as room for further area expansion vanished, technical breakthroughs to enhance per-acre yield were limited, and the public investment in infrastructure lost its momentum. Bengal and eastern Indian areas experienced the most stagnation, while Punjab and Madras continued to grow with improvement in land productivity, including shifts to higher-value-added crops. Nevertheless, on average, the absolute level of land productivity of major crops in colonial India lagged behind global standards of that time. The chapter suggests that limited resource endowments constrained by inadequate technical breakthroughs and institutional constraints, such as the structure of land rights, were the main causes of stagnation.

Walter Scott’s “classical form of the historical novel” establishes a plot of modern national formation through political absorption into a greater imperial union through the dialectical clash of opposing forces. Relocating agency from individual persons to an impersonal historical process, the novel generates soft or weak protagonists who waver between political allegiance and – with the biologization of historical purpose later in the nineteenth century – between dispositions of gender, sex, and race. The historical novel is refitted for Victorian imperial romance and its ideological program of “Greater Britain,” a global union of English-speaking peoples, in Charles Kingsley’s Westward Ho! Historical novels written in the imperial peripheries – in Quebec and Bengal – adapt the “Greater Britain” plot and destabilize it from within. Aubert de Gaspé’s Les anciens Canadiens justifies the conquest of New France through an equivalence between French settlers and Scottish Highlanders, which is derailed by a third group the Indians, the actual natives whose elimination secures the imperial dispensation. In Bankim Chandra Chatterjee’s Anandamath, an eighteenth-century Hindu rebellion against Mughal overlords prepares the way for the future ascendancy of an independent Indian nation in which synthesis with imperial Britain is only a passing stage.

Beginning with an analysis of William Prinsep’s watercolour of nautch dancers (circa 1840), this chapter discusses the figure of the Indian nautch dancer as ‘homo sacer’, the killable target of anti-nautch dance bans introduced in British colonial India. It focuses on the British-controlled colonial city of Calcutta, a dynamic and experimental hub in nineteenth-century undivided Bengal, where the management of native populations, including sex workers and dancers, were led by colonial-era scientific and commercial agendas, and which resulted in an intersectional race-gender-caste-based violence against professional nautch women. Examining a series of newspaper reports from the colonial archive that prominently feature nautch events, the chapter tracks changing British attitudes towards nautch dancing, ranging from mild tolerance to total denouncement. A ‘corpo-active’ method of re-animating nautch archives through the body is introduced as a framework for the book, which resurfaces nautch subjects from visual and material archives as active agents rather than passive victims of tragedy. Overall, the chapter provides an overview of three broad tendencies against or with which the whole book moves: nautch as contagion, nautch as disappearance and nautch as ‘survivance’.

This chapter examines the material trace – a scrapbook – belonging to a once-celebrated Bengali courtesan, Indubala Dasi (1899-1984). Part I, ‘My Name is Indubala!’, introduces Indubala’s life as a singer, actress and performer, and her activism in the domain of sexual labour rights in Calcutta’s red-light district. Part II, ‘Indubala’s Scrapbook’, offers a detailed analysis of the contents of her scrapbook. It reveals how the carefully curated documents within this quiet and intimate archive gives evidence of a dynamic homosocial world. Part III, ‘Lean Worlds, Voracious Bodies’, uses a multi-page party menu from the scrapbook to reflect on Bengali courtesan women’s appetite in colonial India. The concluding section examines amod (pleasure) and alladi (indulgence) – words found in the invitation cards inside the scrapbook – as coalitional strategies, affective states of organised inner-world resistance that Bengali courtesans and sex workers as queered subjects mobilised not just to survive but also to thrive in the world. This exuberance disrupts the trope of the ‘tragic courtesan’, offering an alternative view of Bengali courtesans as women who did not just endure the world but also curated other joyous ways of being in the world.

The concluding chapter offers three short ethnographic accounts of dance events in twenty-first-century Kolkata to argue how nautch has an afterlife. It persists, despite sustained bureaucratic attempts to legally annihilate it. It continues to be carried by bodies under compulsion and bodies with volition. Nautch has morphed into modern-day baiji dances in private rooms and into choreographed spectacles on public stages. A dance and performance studies lens shows how nautch has endured as a profession, a form of waged labour at times shrouded in secrecy, and in other moments displayed proudly in civic spaces. Its legacy of stigma hangs like a curse on multiple professional dance communities across India, who continue to grapple with the shame that accompanies a life of dancing, as other scholars have found. But the afterlife of nautch also features insistent and localised revolutionary movements, such as those led by sex workers’ collective Durbar Mahila Samanwaya Committee (DMSC) and its cultural wing Komal Gandhar in Kolkata. The chapter ends with a discussion of how Komal Gandhar’s dancing collectively activates spaces of possibilities, of new forms of decriminalised citizenship and of more equitable futures of social belonging.

This chapter examines the fictions of nautch dancers painted by local artists (patuas) in nineteenth-century Kalighat paintings from Bengal. Part I, ‘Bazaar Art, Bazaari Women’, highlights key features and techniques of Kalighat paintings in representing the female/courtesan figure (or Bibi). Part II, ‘Patuas and Performance’, discusses the intimacy between visual and performance worlds in Kalighat paintings, noticing how patuas borrowed gestures and bodies from Bengal’s performance forms such as jatra and khemta. Through contemporary social satires and reviews produced by caste-privileged, Bengali male authors, the chapter tracks a growing anti-nautch narrative targeting the baiji and khemta dancers of Bengal whilst popular circulation of their imagery through Kalighat paintings flourished. Part III, ‘Murdering Dance’, examines two real murders: the 1873 Tarakeshwar case, a sensational event that rocked Calcutta and was captured in several notable Kalighat paintings, and the 1875 Sonagachi murder case of Golap, a sex worker in Calcutta. Visual traces of these two murders are read as part of an anti-nautch discourse in which colonial law and native patriarchy centred violence against a dancer’s body within debates on female sexual desire and deviance, and against which subaltern women performed their insurgent gestures of refusal.

This chapter maps the prolific appearance of nautch sundaris (beauties) and jans (beloveds) in South Asian popular visual culture in a period of growing anti-colonial nationalism and anti-nautch regulation in India. Visual traces of dancer-actresses are studied alongside established theatre history primary texts to re-presence the overlooked labour of dancing, a fundamental part of innovative and seditious vernacular dramaturgies that inaugurated modern Bengali drama. Part I, ‘The Age of Mechanical Reprodarshan’, narrates the intimacy of the red-light district and the popular printing presses of Kansaripara Art Studio and Chorebagan Art Studio in Calcutta. It argues that actress-dancers proliferated in print in the unique visual participatory space of darshan. Part II, ‘The Sundaris (Beauties)’ traces the many sundaris – real and fictional – appearing in popular visual prints and in Calcutta’s theatres. Part III, ‘The Jans (Beloveds)’ examines nautch on the humble and ubiquitous matchbox label. A reading of the real and fictional beloveds – Khorshed Jan, Pokhraj Jan, Sanichar Jan, Bani Jan and the celebrated Gauhar Jan (1873 –1930) – explores how the circulation of the Jan series on matchboxes brought about a change in modes of patronage and spectatorship for nautch in the subcontinent in the early twentieth century.

Bengal was a region long known to the Company. Trade, however, was stifled by the Portuguese and the determination of Mughal authorities to resist English incursions. The Company was able to establish settlements in the weaving centres of Patna, Dacca and Malda, but these were outlying centres of production. Josiah Child’s control of the Company signalled a shift towards a new aggressive phase notable for a resolve to fortify settlements, exploit new sources of land revenue and a willingness to challenge Mughal authority. In the aftermath of the abortive assault on Chittagong, Job Charnock settled on a site on the banks of the Hugli. Pestilential, remote and of little interest to Mughal authorities it may have been, and yet the three small villages which became Calcutta were trading centres, made easily defensible by the encompassing jungle and river. Charnock died before any vision he had for the site could be realized, but his successors acted expeditiously and mostly fraudulently to secure zaminardi rights over the surrounding area, erect adequate fortification and after a period of uncertainty, impose a system of justice based on the mayors’ courts of Bombay and Madras.

In 1823 and 1824, two newspaper editors, James Silk Buckingham and George Greig, were subjected to extrajudicial banishment after their respective newspapers were deemed dangerous influences on colonial society in Bengal (Buckingham) and the Cape of Good Hope (Greig). There are important resonances in the way in which these two separate episodes attracted controversy over the relationship between the executive and judicial branches of colonial government and the practice of using state-sanctioned banishment against dissenting political voices. They were also taken up in similar ways by British reformers who sought to embarrass conservatives at home by linking political struggles in the metropole with those of the imperial periphery. As a result, the cases raise legal and constitutional questions over personal liberty, state security, and subjecthood that extended far beyond their original colonial contexts.

This concluding chapter considers the reforms of Governor-general Charles, Lord Cornwallis (1786-93) as the culmination of a decades-long process of imperial co-option, whereby British authorities had gradually expropriated and recast a late Mughal, Persianate system of taxation and justice. Cornwallis’s famous minute on civil justice from 1793 proclaimed itself as a great leap forward in its assertion of ‘British’ justice, making all civil disputes over land and taxation cognizable in separate law courts. Yet Cornwallis, like earlier British reformers, while he railed against the supposedly despotic practices of earlier Indian rulers, was also intensely aware of the multitudes of Indian petitioners and agents (wakils) crowding the Company’s ‘adalats and making legal claims on the Company. His minute on civil justice therefore did not simply announce the arrival of a new rule of law, but envisioned it as a crucial engine of colonial pedagogy, which would eventually turn clamorous and unruly Indian litigants into law-abiding subjects.

This chapter shows how the judicial reforms of Governor Warren Hastings in 1772 attempted to recentre sovereign authority in the British settlement of Calcutta byco-opting and recasting late Mughal venues and practices of petitioning and dispute resolution. It explores how Hastings attempted to found the Company's legal system, not just on 'religious' forms of Muslim and Hindu law, but on Mughal practices of revenue administration. Even after 1772, the chief revenue office in Calcutta (khalisa sharifa or ‘khalsa’) – retained an important role as a site for investigating disputes over land and revenues, and for discovering a new form of ‘civil law’ based on the Company’s interpretations of late Mughal precedents.

In early colonial Bengal, pervasive disputes between urban creditors and tax-paying landlords (zamindars) shaped the East India Company's emergent system of civil justice. Mediating conflicts between creditors and landed debtors was already an important aspect of rulership under the nawabs of Bengal. The Company’s efforts at fiscal centralization, raising tax demands on landholders, and auctioning off ‘revenue farms’ – rights to collect local revenues in return for payments agreed in advance – to wealthy merchants (banians), further intensified conflicts in the countryside. By exploring the controversial efforts of banians to accumulate land rights, and by tracing the Company's hesitant efforts to adjudicate disputes over land and credit, this chapter further reveals how the Company's strategies of legal and fiscal centralization depended on the adaptation and reworking late Mughal, Persianate practices of claimsmaking and dispute resolution. It shows how the Company's efforts to consolidate zamindari rights as a saleable, mortgageable form of taxable private property were being worked out as much in judicial inquiries and decrees as in central legislation.

This chapter explores how inheritance disputes involving landholders (zamindars) in early colonial Bengal became a site for the production of a Persianate form of Hindu law. By tracing in detail the process of judicial investigation in two complex cases of of zamindari inheritance involving elite Hindu zamindars, the chapter shows how British officials drew on the expert knowledge of khalsa revenue officials (especially qanungos) and of brahman pandits (experts on dharmashastra), and how the Company government tried to justify its judicial decrees on the basis of a reconstituted form of Mughal law. The records of judicial inquiries into zamindari tenures reveal the Persianate context for the Company’s early administration of Hindu law, as nawabi practices for hearing and deciding disputes among tax-paying zamindars were reformulated under the Company state.

This chapter explores the late Mughal context for colonial-state-formation, focusing on Persianate practices of claimsmaking and dispute resolution in nawabi Bengal. It examines Persian accounts of Mughal and nawabi governance circulating in the orbit of the East India Company government in late eighteenth century Bengal, as well as British views of Mughal institutions, highlighting the role of late Mughal tax officials administering justice to petitioning subjects in disputes about land and taxation. It shows how the central revenue office of the Bengal nawabs, the khalisa sharifa, became a key site for the Company's colonization and transformation of Mughal, Persianate practices of legal ordering.