For centuries, paan occupied a central place in social, cultural and ceremonial life across the Indian subcontinent, serving as a symbol of hospitality, refinement and elite status.

Yet by the early 20th century, the practice had been increasingly recast by colonial authorities as an unsanitary habit, reflecting broader changes in social norms under British rule.Historical paintings, travel accounts and literary sources suggest that paan was once deeply embedded in the etiquette of royal courts and elite households.

Its consumption was associated not merely with personal enjoyment but with rituals of hospitality, conversation and social interaction.Among the visual records illustrating this tradition is an 18th-century portrait attributed to artist Dip Chand depicting an East India Company official, believed to be William Fullerton.

Alongside symbols of elite leisure such as a hookah, attendants and richly decorated furnishings, the painting prominently features a paandaan, or betel box, a spittoon and containers likely holding ingredients used in preparing paan.The arrangement of these objects indicates that paan consumption formed part of accepted courtly etiquette.

The inclusion of a spittoon within the composition also reflects how the physical aspects of chewing paan were accommodated within established norms of decorum.Similar motifs appear in depictions of British official David Ochterlony at the Mughal court in Delhi. In these works, paan-related objects occupy the same visual space as performances, carpets and hookahs, emphasizing their place within a broader culture of leisure and refinement.

Other paintings from the Mughal and regional courts similarly portray paan as an integral component of social life. In scenes of aristocratic gatherings, paan paraphernalia appear alongside writing instruments, floral arrangements and ceremonial objects, suggesting that hospitality, intellectual exchange and sensory pleasure were closely intertwined.Historical evidence also links paan to romance and personal relationships.

A 16th-century Mughal illustration from the Tuti-nama manuscript tradition includes prepared paan within a scene depicting anticipation of a romantic encounter. Classical Indian texts such as the Kamasutra similarly identify the offering of paan as part of courtship rituals and intimate social interactions.

European visitors to India frequently encountered these customs and recorded their observations. In the early 17th century, English diplomat Thomas Roe described receiving paan directly from Mughal Emperor Jahangir’s personal betel box, interpreting the gesture as a mark of exceptional honor and favor.

By the late 18th and early 19th centuries, however, European descriptions increasingly shifted from participation and curiosity toward documentation and classification.British writer and illustrator James Forbes, for example, recorded detailed observations of the betel plant and areca nut while also describing the social customs surrounding paan consumption.

He noted that many Indians carried paan much as Europeans carried tobacco and observed that it was routinely offered to guests as a sign of hospitality.Forbes also described the preparation of ceremonial paan, which combined sliced areca nut, cardamom and lime folded within a betel leaf and often secured with a clove.

According to his account, the offering of paan at the conclusion of a visit sometimes functioned as a subtle signal that social proceedings were drawing to a close.As colonial rule expanded, representations of paan increasingly reflected a desire to catalogue Indian customs through an ethnographic lens. Rather than appearing within scenes of social interaction and courtly exchange, paan began to be depicted as an isolated cultural practice.

Works such as Charles D’Oyly’s portrayal of a high-status Indian chewing paan focus attention on the individual and the associated objects rather than on the social environment in which the practice traditionally occurred. Images of paan vendors similarly emphasized occupation and commerce rather than hospitality or ceremonial exchange.

This shift reflected a broader colonial tendency to classify and document Indian society through categories that often detached customs from their historical and cultural contexts.The history of paan itself reveals extensive cultural connections across South and Southeast Asia.

The term “paan” is derived from the Sanskrit word parṇa, meaning leaf, while another Sanskrit term, tāmbūla, entered Persian and Arabic usage through centuries of cultural exchange.The areca nut, commonly known as supari, also carries linguistic traces of regional adaptation and trade.

Various forms of the word appeared across South Asia, while European colonial powers adopted local terminology as they encountered the practice.Paan was cultivated and consumed across a vast geographic region. Historical sources indicate that it carried distinct meanings in different societies, ranging from expressions of apology in the Malay world to digestive and medicinal uses in Sri Lanka.

Classical Indian texts recommended betel consumption after meals and associated it with various therapeutic benefits.Despite this rich cultural history, colonial attitudes increasingly focused on questions of sanitation and bodily discipline. As British administrative institutions expanded during the 19th century, new standards of hygiene and public conduct reshaped perceptions of practices that had long been socially accepted.

The decline of princely courts also weakened patronage networks that had supported the production of ornate paandaans and spittoons. Meanwhile, colonial offices and administrative spaces left little room for customs associated with public chewing and spitting.

As a result, the material culture surrounding paan gradually disappeared from many formal public settings. Although consumption continued in homes and informal environments, its visibility declined within spaces governed by colonial standards of propriety.English novelist and essayist E.M. Forster observed this transformation in a 1923 essay, contrasting the curiosity shown by early European visitors with the disdain later exhibited by many Anglo-Indians.

Forster described paan as a social ritual that facilitated interaction and hospitality, praising the skill involved in its preparation and presentation.By then, however, paan had largely ceased to function as a visible symbol of elite sociability in the way it had during the Mughal and early colonial periods.Paintings from the late 18th and early 19th centuries provide a record of that transition.

They show how an object once associated with honor, refinement and hospitality gradually became redefined through colonial frameworks that emphasized classification, regulation and hygiene. In the process, a practice deeply woven into the social fabric of South Asian life was increasingly reduced to a cultural curiosity rather than understood as part of a sophisticated tradition of etiquette and human interaction.

For centuries, artistic representations of power, status and beauty often featured individuals whose physical characteristics would today be associated with higher body mass indexes, according to physician and researcher Dr. Hutan Yafi.

The observation reflects a broader debate among scholars and medical experts over how changing perceptions of health and attractiveness have influenced the interpretation of historical artworks.Yafi argues that throughout much of recorded history, larger body size frequently functioned as a visual indicator of wealth, authority and social standing.

In artistic depictions, rulers, religious figures, members of royal households and other influential individuals were commonly portrayed with fuller physiques. Similar characteristics were often associated with idealized representations of women, particularly in portraiture and other forms of figurative art.

According to Yafi, these portrayals reflected prevailing social and economic realities. In many societies, access to abundant food and resources was unevenly distributed, making larger body size a visible marker of prosperity and privilege.

As a result, artistic representations frequently reinforced social hierarchies by associating physical abundance with power, influence and desirability.“Strong men, leaders, royal families, religious people, high people in the society were portrayed with high BMI,” Yafi said. “Beautiful women and models were also portrayed with high BMI.”

The relationship between body size and cultural ideals remained relatively stable for long periods, Yafi said, before undergoing significant changes during the 20th century. He linked that shift to developments in medical research, particularly growing scientific understanding of nutrition and cardiovascular health.

According to Yafi, perceptions began to evolve during the second half of the 20th century as researchers increasingly examined the role of saturated fats and trans fats in metabolic disorders and cardiovascular disease. Public health discussions around diet and weight gained prominence, influencing both medical guidance and broader social attitudes.

As scientific research expanded, body image standards in popular culture and visual media also changed, Yafi said. He argued that thinner body types increasingly became associated with attractiveness and health, while obesity became more likely to be viewed negatively.

“This led to images of thin, often unrealistically thin, men and women being glorified and obesity being stigmatised,” Yafi said. “Suddenly, thin people became beautiful and the women who inspired artists for centuries were no longer considered attractive.”The evolution of beauty standards has attracted attention from researchers examining the intersection of medicine, culture and visual representation.

Some have sought to analyze historical artworks through a modern medical lens, looking for physical features that may suggest underlying health conditions. Such efforts remain controversial because they rely on interpretations of artistic representations rather than direct clinical evidence.

One of the most frequently discussed examples involves the Mona Lisa, the iconic portrait painted by Leonardo da Vinci during the Renaissance. The painting has long been the subject of academic inquiry across disciplines ranging from art history and conservation science to medicine and psychology.

Yafi noted that some scientists have proposed retrospective medical interpretations of the portrait’s subject. Among the hypotheses advanced in academic discussions are suggestions that features visible in the painting could indicate elevated cholesterol levels, issues related to body mass or endocrine disorders such as hypothyroidism.

“Some scientists believe Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa was very unhealthy and that she had a problem with her BMI, cholesterol and severe hypothyroidism,” Yafi said.At the same time, Yafi acknowledged the limitations inherent in such analyses. Because the subject lived centuries ago and no direct medical examination is possible, any conclusions remain speculative and dependent on visual interpretation.

“We don’t know because we cannot go back and make a diagnosis, we are just analysing her features,” Yafi added.The debate highlights a broader challenge faced by researchers attempting to apply modern medical frameworks to historical figures.

While advances in medical science provide new tools for interpreting visual evidence, artworks were not created as clinical records. Portraits often incorporate symbolism, stylistic conventions and artistic choices that can complicate efforts to draw conclusions about physical health.Art historian Bendor Grosvenor has cautioned against treating artistic depictions as reliable diagnostic evidence.

He argues that portraiture operates within artistic and cultural contexts that extend beyond physical resemblance.“Poor Mona Lisa, she’s always being diagnosed with something she almost certainly never had,” Grosvenor said.His comments reflect concerns shared by many art historians who view retrospective medical diagnoses as inherently uncertain.

According to Grosvenor, visual characteristics in a painting cannot be separated from the artistic intentions of the painter or the conventions of the period in which the work was produced.“If a doctor today diagnosed someone only on the basis of how their face looked, we wouldn’t take them seriously,” he said.Grosvenor emphasized that portraiture often serves purposes beyond recording physical appearance.

Artists may alter proportions, emphasize particular features or incorporate symbolic elements intended to communicate status, personality or cultural values rather than provide an exact representation of the subject.“Art is art, and a portrait – even one by Leonardo – is usually about so much more than likeness, let alone health,” Grosvenor said.

His remarks underscore a longstanding tension between medical interpretation and art historical analysis. While physicians may view visual details as potential indicators of health conditions, historians generally stress the importance of understanding artworks within their original social, cultural and artistic contexts.

The discussion surrounding the Mona Lisa also reflects broader questions about how contemporary societies interpret historical images. Standards of beauty, health and physical appearance have shifted significantly across different eras, often influenced by changing economic conditions, scientific knowledge and cultural values. As a result, characteristics that were once celebrated or considered desirable may later be viewed differently.

Yafi’s observations suggest that modern assumptions about body size and attractiveness cannot always be applied to earlier periods without considering historical context. Artistic depictions of rulers, aristocrats and celebrated women often reflected the ideals of their time rather than contemporary expectations.

Grosvenor, meanwhile, argues that efforts to diagnose historical figures based on portraits risk oversimplifying works of art whose significance extends beyond physical appearance. For historians, paintings remain cultural artifacts shaped by creative decisions, social conventions and symbolic meanings that cannot be reduced to questions of medical status alone.

“This is as likely for the art of the future as the art of the past,” Grosvenor said. “Art is art, and a portrait is usually about much more than health.”

A major new collaborative exhibition across regional galleries in Britain is bringing long-overdue attention to women artists whose contributions have often been overlooked in traditional museum collections dominated by male names.

Titled Making Her Mark, the project brings together works by some of the country’s most celebrated female artists, including Tracey Emin, Barbara Hepworth, Laura Knight, Elizabeth Forbes, and Gillian Ayres.

The initiative is being shared between Penlee House Gallery & Museum, galleries in Worcester, and Kirkcaldy, creating a rare regional partnership focused entirely on correcting historical imbalance in artistic representation.

For many smaller galleries across the UK, collections have traditionally reflected centuries of inequality in the art world, where male painters and sculptors were more likely to receive commissions, institutional support, and lasting recognition.

As a result, many museum walls still tell a largely male story.At Penlee House Gallery & Museum in Penzance, that reality is especially visible. Known for its strong representation of the Newlyn School and Cornish art history, much of its permanent collection features male artists whose work shaped the region’s artistic identity.

But from this week, visitors entering the gallery will be greeted by something strikingly different.Displayed prominently above a marble fireplace is a bold and emotionally charged work by Tracey Emin, challenging viewers with the raw personal intensity that has made her one of Britain’s most discussed contemporary artists.

In a nearby room hangs a vibrant work by Barbara Hepworth, whose abstract forms and modernist vision helped define 20th-century British art.Together, the works create a conversation across generations from early pioneers to contemporary voices highlighting not only artistic excellence but also the barriers women faced in gaining recognition.

The exhibition also features pieces by Laura Knight, one of the first women elected to full membership of the Royal Academy, and Elizabeth Forbes, often considered one of the leading figures of the Newlyn School despite being historically overshadowed by her male contemporaries.

Textile artist Imogen Bright Moon also contributes to the exhibition, with contemporary tapestry work that adds another dimension to the project’s exploration of female creativity and artistic identity.Curators say the goal is not simply to celebrate famous names, but to encourage visitors to reconsider how art history itself has been written.

For decades, women artists were frequently treated as exceptions rather than central figures. Their work was often categorized as secondary, domestic, or decorative rather than serious fine art. Even highly accomplished artists found themselves remembered mainly in relation to male partners, schools, or movements.Projects like Making Her Mark seek to shift that narrative.

Rather than presenting women artists as a special category separate from the mainstream, the exhibition argues that they have always been central to British art they were simply not always given equal visibility.This rebalancing is especially significant in regional galleries, where local collections shape public understanding of cultural history.

By placing women’s work at the centre of these spaces, the exhibition challenges long-standing assumptions about whose stories deserve prominence.It also reflects a wider movement across museums and cultural institutions to reassess collections, acquisitions, and curatorial practices through a more inclusive lens.

Across Britain and beyond, galleries are increasingly revisiting archives, reattributing forgotten works, and acquiring art by women and other historically underrepresented groups. The process is not only about fairness but also about revealing a fuller and more accurate picture of artistic history.

At Penlee House, the presence of a contemporary Tracey Emin alongside earlier artists such as Barbara Hepworth and Elizabeth Forbes shows how the conversation spans centuries rather than belonging to a single era.It also reminds visitors that progress remains unfinished.

Despite major advances, women artists still face unequal representation in exhibitions, collections, auction prices, and critical attention. Recognition has improved, but parity remains distant.That is why curators describe Making Her Mark not as a conclusion, but as part of a continuing discussion.

The title itself suggests both artistic creation and historical correction women making their mark on canvas, sculpture, and textiles, while also finally making their mark in the institutions that preserve cultural memory.

For visitors walking through the galleries, the exhibition offers something more than visual pleasure. It invites reflection on absence whose work was missing, whose voices were muted, and how different the walls of museums might look if history had been written differently.

By bringing these artists together, Making Her Mark offers a small but powerful act of restoration.It suggests that the question is no longer whether women belong at the centre of British art history, but why it took so long for the walls to show it.