How Tipu Sultan's 18th-century punishment quietly reshaped beauty standards across Bollywood and Hollywood
The Nose Job That Travelled from Pune to Piccadilly
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The refined nose has become a silent yet commanding feature in the cinematic portrayal of beauty across thw world be it Bollywood or Hollywood . Shilpa once remarked how her nose job helped "balance her features," propelling her on-screen appeal. Similarly, Priyanka Chopra 's memoir Unfinished details the trauma of a botched nose surgery that left her feeling unrecognizable, revealing how even global stars can become vulnerable to the risks of cosmetic transformation.Yet long before nose jobs were a red carpet staple, the seeds of this aesthetic obsession were sown in 18th-century India, during the violent reign of Tipu Sultan. At the center of this unlikely history is Cowasjee, a bullock cart driver whose mutilation, and subsequent nasal reconstruction by an Indian potter, catalyzed a medical revolution that would eventually redefine beauty standards from Mumbai to Los Angeles.In 1792, Cowasjee, who had been employed by the British during the Third Anglo-Mysore War, was captured by Tipu Sultan's forces. As punishment for siding with the British, his nose and one hand were amputated. One year later, in January 1793, Cowasjee underwent nasal reconstruction in Pune by a local potter-surgeon who used a flap of skin from Cowasjee's own forehead to create a new nose.This surgical method was introduced to Europe through a letter published in The Gentleman's Magazine in October 1794, under the heading 'Curious Chirurgical Operation.' The writer, identified only as "BL", detailed how the operation involved 'dissecting off as much skin' from the forehead 'as it covered,' keeping a narrow bridge of skin between the eyes to maintain blood circulation ( Royal College of Physicians ). The operation was declared a success, with the reconstructed nose described as 'secure and looking nearly as well as the natural one.'A full-page portrait of Cowasjee after his recovery accompanied the letter. The image, based on a sketch by Scottish artist James Wales, visibly demonstrated the successful outcome. According to the Royal College of Physicians, the same engraving was later attributed to London-based engraver Barak Longmate, who likely based it on reports that had already appeared in The Madras Gazette and the newspaper Hircarrah.The tale of Cowasjee's operation gained further credibility through British surgeon Dr Joseph Carpue, who in 1814 replicated the same Indian method in London after studying details of Cowasjee's case. Carpue credited the initial discovery to 'a potter from near Poonah' who had performed similar surgeries on others, including a merchant who had also lost his nose due to punishment for adultery.While Tipu Sultan's mutilation was meant to publicly shame and permanently disfigure, it inadvertently became the catalyst for a transformative moment in medical history. As noted in the Manual of Medical Jurisprudence in India by Dr Norman Chevers (1856), nose-cutting was a common punishment in ancient India, often inflicted for crimes such as adultery, theft, or disloyalty. Women, in particular, bore the brunt of this cruel custom.This prevalence of rhinectomy, Chevers argued, was precisely why nasal reconstruction was both culturally necessary and surgically advanced in the Indian subcontinent.Though Cowasjee's case marked a turning point in Western understanding of plastic surgery, the Indian method itself had deep roots in classical medical literature. The ancient Susruta Saṃhita, a foundational Sanskrit text of Ayurveda, detailed nasal reconstruction using skin from the cheek rather than the forehead, emphasizing the importance of 'living flesh, full of blood' for successful grafting (Royal College of Physicians). It also advocated for anatomical dissection and included detailed descriptions of the body's muscles, joints, and blood vessels.The forehead-flap technique used on Cowasjee may have evolved from this ancient model and was likely passed down orally through generations of practitioners belonging to artisan castes, such as potters and brickmakers.Before Cowasjee's case was known, Europe relied on older and more cumbersome methods. The Italian technique, dating back to the 15th century and practiced by surgeon Gasparo Tagliacozzi, used skin from the arm, forcing patients to strap their arm to their face for weeks. The French method relied on lateral flaps from the face, which yielded inconsistent results.In his 1900 publication Rhinoplastic Operations : With A Description Of Recent Improvements In The Indian Method, British surgeon Dr D.F. Keegan, who had over 20 years of experience in India, wrote that 'a flap taken from the forehead is a much better covering for the nose than one taken either from the arm or the cheek.' He praised the Indian technique for consistently offering 'a good prospect of success.'Historically, the nose in South Asian cultures symbolized more than beauty—it represented honour, identity, and familial pride. Cutting it off was not just mutilation; it was erasure. Yet the potter who operated on Cowasjee reversed that erasure, reconstructing not only a nose but also the social and emotional wholeness of the individual.In modern cinema, the symbolism has shifted. Rhinoplasty is no longer about restoring honour but enhancing appeal. Yet the act—choosing to reshape one's identity through the nose—retains its power. Whether it is Sridevi's elusive transformation, Anushka Sharma's changing features, or even Sandra Bullock's rumoured tweaks, the procedure's influence stretches far beyond the surgical table.Despite the global impact of his work, the identity of Cowasjee's surgeon remains unknown. Referred to only as a Kumhar, or potter, from a village near Pune, he never received the acclaim showered on later European surgeons. While Cowasjee's name appears in nearly every retelling of the story, the man who restored his face remains absent from the medical canon.And yet, every perfectly sculpted profile in Bollywood and Hollywood owes a quiet debt to that unnamed artisan. His legacy lives on—not just in textbooks or journals, but in the mirror reflections of every face subtly reshaped for the screen.
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