The Invisible Hands of Colonial Comfort: The Life and Labor of Punkahwallahs in British India

In colonial India, the everyday existence of British planters, administrators, and their families were built on the labour of a vast number of Indian servants, many of whom remain largely forgotten by history. Among these essential but often invisible figures were the punkahwallahs—men whose sole duty was to manually operate large ceiling fans, or punkahs, to keep the air moving and their British employers cool in the stifling heat of the tropics.

The punkahwallahs became an indispensable part of colonial life, not only in British India but also in neighboring colonies such as Ceylon, the Straits Settlements, and British Malaya. Despite their omnipresence in homes and offices, the punkahwallahs have been largely neglected by historians, unlike more prominent household servants such as ayahs (nannies) or khansamas (cooks), who have begun to attract some scholarly attention.

For the British in India, dealing with the relentless heat and humidity of the tropical climate was a constant struggle. They tried various strategies to adapt: lightening their wardrobes, adjusting their diets, and constructing homes with thick walls, high ceilings, and expansive shaded verandas. They even designed sprawling gardens to provide additional shade. While these measures helped somewhat, they were far from sufficient. Without the widespread availability of electricity—particularly in rural areas—the only effective solution to the oppressive climate was the manual operation of large fans. This was where the punkahwallahs came in, often stationed outside rooms or offices, tirelessly pulling on ropes that operated the fans overhead, keeping the air circulating day and night.

The word punkah derives from the Hindi pankh, meaning "wing," as the motion of the fan mimicked the flapping of a bird’s wings. The suffix wallah refers to a person who carries out a particular job or service. The punkahwallahs usually worked out of sight, pulling the fan from a distance via a cord or pulley system. Sometimes, however, they used smaller hand-held fans, especially in more intimate spaces, which brought them into closer proximity to their employers. Though the British popularized the punkahwallah during their rule, neither the fans nor the men who operated them were a British invention. The system existed long before their arrival, serving native Indian kings and nobles.

However, the arrival of the British significantly increased the visibility and scale of their use, making the punkahwallah a nearly ubiquitous presence in British-controlled territories.

In the early days of British colonial rule, some punkahwallahs were recruited from petty criminals, who were assigned to work in domestic service as a form of penal labor. This practice was eventually phased out as more British women and children moved to India, and concerns arose about the safety and propriety of employing convicts in such proximity to families. Most punkahwallahs were poor, drawn from the lower castes, and were often boys or elderly men who were seen as less capable of physical labour. However, there were exceptions, with able-bodied men occasionally taking on the role, though these cases appear to have been rare.

By the late 19th century, the presence of punkahwallahs had become so embedded in British colonial life that they were considered an "institution" by foreign visitors. Travel writer Sara Jeanette Duncan, in her book A Social Departure (1892), noted that while the fan was always visible, its operator often remained unseen, a symbol of the distance the British maintained between themselves and the local population. Yet, punkahwallahs were more than just part of the furniture; they were a constant reminder of the dependency of the British Empire on native labour. In literature, too, the punkahwallah made occasional appearances, perhaps most famously in E.M. Forster’s A Passage to India, where a punkahwallah witnesses a critical courtroom scene.

Though their work was menial and their presence often overlooked, punkahwallahs played an essential role in making the heat of the tropics bearable for the British colonizers. They embodied the social and racial hierarchies that defined the colonial world, a world where even the air one breathed depended on the labor of an unseen servant. Despite their centrality to the colonial experience, punkahwallahs have, until now, remained in the shadows of history, their stories untold and their contributions largely forgotten.