The Courtesan, The Maharaja and the Nehr Wala Pul
The kinda-sorta love story of Ranjit Singh and Bibi Moran
She was a Muslim dancer. He was the Sher of Punjab. A love story unfolded halfway between Lahore and Amritsar.
But love is a tricky thing, more so in remembrance. By some accounts, Maharaja Ranjit Singh of Punjab had over twenty wives. Some he revered, some he protected, some he loved with devotion. But there’s only one he built a bridge for. And when your love gets enshrined in bricks and walls, legends are born.
This one begins at Maharaja Ranjit Singh’s baradari (royal pavilion) in Attari.
Close to present-day Wagah Border outside Amritsar, a village road winds to a lesser-known check-post, where memories of the 71 Indo-Pak war live amidst the vestiges of an almost-forgotten monument scattered in the fields. Over 200 years ago, this was where Maharaja Ranjit Singh – fearless warrior-king, and founder of the Sikh empire – would stop and rest along with his royal troops, en route from Amritsar to Lahore.
And here, he would interlude with his favourite courtesan, Bibi Moran – the girl who danced like a “mor”, a peacock. One day, while crossing the canal to reach the baradari, Moran lost her silver sandal, a gift from the Maharaja. Upset, she refused to perform for him till he built a bridge over the canal for her. And thus was born – Pul Moran or Moran’s Bridge.
In local parlance, they also call it Pul “Kanjari” – a term that in modern Punjabi is considered an insult, a derogatory word for a “promiscuous woman”, but one that had a much less scandalous beginning. Famous historian Rana Safvi quotes a chronicle of Akbar’s times in one of her articles where a chapter mentions Kanjari as a class of musicians.
“The Kanjarí: The men of this class play the Pakháwaj, the Rabáb and the Tála, while the women sing and dance. His Majesty calls them Kanchanís. Their extraordinary performances are beyond description and each of them affects a special style of vocal accompaniment.”
Like so many words once used to describe women of a certain calibre – mistress, madam, spinster – kanjari took on a negative connotation over time, much like that often used and misused “tawaif”.
Pul Moran, Pul Kanjari, Tawaif Pul – the bridge over the canal goes by several names today. All centered around Moran the courtesan, Moran the “nautch” girl, Moran the fankara (artist) who stole the heart of a Maharaja.
The story isn’t uncommon. Maharaja Ranjit Singh is said to have “violently fallen in love” with many a courtesan. But what’s intriguing is how Moran softly made her way into the hearts of people, wielding (some say) a certain power and influence in the Maharaja’s court; a coin minted in her visage, and a mosque eventually commissioned in Lahore for “Mai Moran”.
And on this side of the border, a bridge over a canal that continues to capture imaginations. Walk through the area today, and you’d be hard-pressed to come across the bridge. Some say it’s long gone. Others suggest that the complex itself is Pul Moran, the memorial to the fallen heroes of ’71 is Pul Moran, the entire village is Pul Moran, it’s always been.
And yet, people come here, in this village just 5 km short of the border, looking for a bridge across the canal that united two lovers.
Punjab’s romance with the nehr wala pul never fades ❤️
I first heard this tale in an online lecture by the lovely Radha Kapuria, historian and professor of history who has captured her detailed study of the musicians of Punjab in the book MUSIC IN COLONIAL PUNJAB. Such a treasure trove!
🦚 Kahaani Kollective is a space that explores the inheritance of stories 🦚