Pieces of Kashibai: "Trying" to Unearth a Forgotten Legacy
What the GDP and forgotten histories have in common.
Until I began my undergraduate studies in economics, I had never even glanced at an economics textbook. My decision to pursue the subject wasn’t deliberate, it happened by chance, and I’m glad it did. Whether economics feels the same way about me is another story, but hey, it’s stuck with me now.
I still remember one of the early moments that completely shifted my perspective. This little ramble is my way of setting the stage for something that left me absolutely floored in one of my macroeconomics classes during the third or fourth week. During one of our macroeconomics classes, our professor presented a thought-provoking question: Should the unpaid domestic work mostly performed by women, such as housework and caregiving, be considered a part of a country's Gross Domestic Product (GDP)? (Yet another Reddit Thread for your leisurely perusal)
Until that moment, I had never thought about things from such a perspective. The idea that activities happening at home could hold significant economic value had never crossed my mind. Like many, I had always seen homemakers’ roles as limited to the boundaries of their households, impacting their families’ lives emotionally and practically but never fully appreciating the tangible value they generate. It was a revelation.
Since long-winded tales are clearly my style, here’s another one. Recently, while chatting with a friend about movies, we landed on Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s work and eventually discussed Bajirao Mastani. We both felt the film, while visually stunning and deeply moving, left us wanting more, specifically, more about Kashibai.
We know the movie focuses on the titular characters, Bajirao and Mastani, but the one who lingered in our minds was Kashibai. Her quiet strength and resilience left an impression, and we both wished the movie had delved deeper into her story.
Interestingly, our discussion about Kashibai brought me back to the question from my macro class. Much like the economic contributions of homemakers, Kashibai’s importance is often overshadowed. While history acknowledges her role, the grandeur of the love story between Bajirao and Mastani tends to eclipse her contributions and her story, just as homemakers’ work is often overlooked when we talk about GDP.
The Often Overlooked Legacy of Kashibai:
Kashibai, fondly known as Laddubai, was born into a family where privilege met responsibility. Her father, Mahadji Krishna Joshi, wasn’t just a wealthy banker but also a subedar in the Maratha empire, closely tied to its power structure, which is said to have played an important in establishing an alliance between Bajirao and Kashibai. This unique upbringing gave young Kashibai an early glimpse into the world of administration and governance, skills she would later put to use in ways history doesn’t always fully acknowledge.
Her childhood home, a fort-like haveli in the village of Chaskaman near Pune, still stands today. It’s not just a historical structure; it’s a living connection to her legacy, as her brother Krushnarao Joshi’s descendants continue to reside there. Over the weekends, the house turns into a bustling spot for history enthusiasts eager to explore. In fact, the house is so significant that it’s featured in Sahali Ek Divasyachya Parisaraat Punyachya, a guidebook by PK Ghanekar highlighting notable places around Pune.
This childhood setting wasn’t just a backdrop; it shaped Kashibai’s early exposure to the workings of power and responsibility. Her story starts here, in a small village that still resonates with her memory centuries later.
The Unsung Architect of Stability
When Kashibai married Bajirao Peshwa in 1720, her life took a dramatic turn. From being the daughter of a wealthy banker, she became the wife of one of the most iconic military leaders of the Maratha Empire. But while Bajirao’s victories on the battlefield are etched in history, Kashibai’s contributions often remain in the shadows.
Picture Pune as a wheel spinning smoothly, even when its most visible driver, Bajirao? was away. Behind the scenes, Kashibai was the steady axle, keeping the machinery of governance intact. With most of the male members of the Peshwa family leading military campaigns, Kashibai was entrusted with managing the day-to-day administration of the empire’s capital. This wasn’t a ceremonial role handed to her by default, it was one that required sharp political instincts, organisational skills, and a firm grip on governance.
The fact that Pune remained stable and efficient during Bajirao’s prolonged absences is a testament to Kashibai’s abilities. While history may not detail her specific decisions, her steady hand in steering the empire through challenging times speaks volumes about her capability.
Even in popular culture, Kashibai has started to receive overdue recognition. Shows like Kashibai Bajirao Ballal might dramatise aspects of her life, but they underscore her role as more than just a Peshwin confined to domesticity. These portrayals hint at a truth that history often glosses over: Kashibai was deeply involved in statecraft and played a significant role in the empire’s stability.
Her people skills further set her apart. Accounts describe her as a natural leader who could seamlessly interact with both the common folk and high-ranking officials. This ability to bridge societal divides helped her maintain harmony in Pune, ensuring that both the administration and its people worked together in sync.
Kashibai’s story didn’t end with Bajirao’s death in 1740; in many ways, her journey as a leader and influencer was just beginning. Beyond her administrative contributions during Bajirao’s lifetime, she carved a unique legacy that blended devotion, diplomacy, and resilience.
One of her most tangible contributions was the construction of the Someshwar Temple in her hometown of Chaskaman. This wasn’t just an act of religious piety, it was a deeply personal statement, a way to honour her roots and leave a lasting symbol of her devotion. Even today, the temple stands as a testament to her vision and dedication to her community.
But Kashibai’s influence went far beyond the boundaries of Chaskaman. Her grand pilgrimage to Banaras is a perfect example of how she combined faith with leadership. Imagine an entourage of 40,000 pilgrims, all travelling under her guidance, with resources worth nearly one lakh rupees being mobilized. This wasn’t merely a spiritual journey; it was a display of her ability to organise, lead, and command respect.
These pilgrimages weren’t just about religious rituals, they were platforms for political engagement. Kashibai used these journeys to strengthen the Maratha Empire’s visibility and forge connections with regional powers. Her visits to holy cities like Kashi, Prayag, and Gaya were as much about diplomacy as they were about devotion. Leading massive caravans, she brought the Marathas into the spotlight, engaging with influential communities and leaders along the way.
Kashibai often carried letters from the Peshwas to prominent rulers like the Emperor of Delhi and the Nawab of Awadh, acting as an informal envoy. One notable instance during her 1746 pilgrimage highlights her status and influence. Invited to stay in the palace of Balwant Singh, the Hindu raja of Banaras, Kashibai had a disagreement with him, illustrating her confidence and the respect she commanded.
Her interactions extended even further, reaching figures like Warren Hastings of the East India Company. Through these connections, Kashibai played a quiet but vital role in maintaining the cohesion and influence of the Maratha Confederacy.
Kashibai’s story is a reminder that leadership comes in many forms. She wasn’t just a Peshwin who managed domestic or administrative affairs; she was a woman who carried her empire’s legacy across borders and boundaries, leaving an indelible mark on history.
As I conclude this article, I find myself grappling with a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, there’s the satisfaction of uncovering even a sliver of Kashibai’s story, but on the other, a nagging sense of incompleteness. It feels as though I’ve only scratched the surface, barely brushing against the depth of Kashibai’s story. Yet, I’ve been reminding myself lately that putting words out there, imperfect and incomplete as they may be, is better than holding back. Sometimes, something truly is better than nothing.
This story, when it first came to me, left me brimming with excitement. Kashibai, the Peshwin whose life seemed to ripple with untold stories, felt like a puzzle I was eager to piece together. But now, as I sit here, reflecting on what I’ve uncovered, I’m left with a bittersweet feeling. If, with such limited resources, I could stumble upon such fascinating facets of these timeless heroines, how much more must there be waiting to be discovered? How many stories lie hidden, just out of reach, in neglected records and forgotten memories?
That thought both inspires and frustrates me. It reminds me how much there is yet to explore and, at the same time, how much history we’ve lost to time and neglect.
An article I came across revealed a staggering fact, four crore pages of documents from the Peshwa era, written in the ancient Modi Lipi script, lie ignored and forgotten. These manuscripts, dating back to Bajirao’s reign, hold the potential to reveal profound insights about the lives, governance, and contributions of the Maratha Empire’s key figures, Kashibai included.
Noted historian Mandar Lawate has lamented this neglect, pointing out that the British took care to preserve these documents at Shaniwarwada, the heart of Peshwa power. Yet today, they gather dust. These aren’t just old papers, Lawate emphasized, they are living testimonies of the Maratha Empire’s glory. His words echo with frustration at the indifference that has allowed such a treasure trove of history to fade into obscurity.
For me, this isn’t just about Kashibai. It’s about how easily stories of people, especially women like her, slip through the cracks of time, reduced to fragments or overshadowed entirely. Who was Kashibai beyond the wife of Bajirao, beyond the caretaker of Mastani’s son? What thoughts, decisions, and experiences defined her life? Perhaps the answers lie in those untouched manuscripts, waiting to be deciphered from the cursive strokes of Modi Lipi.
I won’t claim to know the entirety of Kashibai’s story. Far from it. I suspect we’ve only glimpsed fragments of a much richer, more complex narrative. I don't even claim to have uncovered every piece of information accessible, I would call this research perfunctory at its best. And while I may not have uncovered all the answers in this piece, I hope it serves as a reminder of how much more there is to explore. Kashibai’s life, her contributions, and her legacy deserve more than passing mentions, they deserve to be unearthed, understood, and celebrated in all their depth and glory.
Thanks for reading,
Tanvi.