"People know about what sometimes happens to girls growing up in the kotha; but no one knows what happens to boys. Nobody's written about it as such so I thought I might as well do it. A kotha for tawaifs is not a place for sex work. There aren't really any pimps. If they turn up at the gates in the evening it's to usher in patrons for the song and dance, the entertainment, not for soliciting sex. The kotha is run entirely by women. As they know the world outside, they know how to protect their young ones. It is a protective bubble. But then, you grow up and see that the world is not as kind as your mother who is doing so much to keep you away from those elements. My mother would not dance in front of me because she did not want me to be influenced by her art. She wanted me to focus on my studies. So I used Sridevi on television to be my role model, to teach me the dance that my mother was denying me because she wanted a better life for me. Whether it was being the naagin from Nagina or thunder thighs in Tohfa, back then, Sridevi was everywhere. I looked at her and said she's my guru, my masterni, my mother! Even now, there isn't a day when I don't think of Sridevi. The tawaifs enjoyed my performances and clapped when I danced but it was different at boarding school, being a queer schoolboy. But education gave me the voice of privilege that I didn't have. Now, I'm lucky that my profession became my therapy. Writing healed me"- Manish Gaekwad, author, Nautch Boy; A Memoir of My Life in the Kothas, talks to Manjula Narayan about growing up surrounded by courtesans, unlearning the false sense of privilege he picked up at boarding school, and the power of writing


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