Mission : Dance Bar
"You have to dance at a bar tommorow". Instructions given by my city editor, Lajwanti D'souza, the minute I walk into the newsroom. Dance bar??? my face says. "Yes. And write about your experience," she continues.
The R R Patil versus dance bars issue is at its peak and every newspaper worth its newsprint is cashing in on it. All newspapers have taken the "right to make a living" stand and are supporting the dance bars. Of course I have my doubts or rather I'm quite convinced that a lot of money has passed hands. Laj has only passed on to me directions given by THE BOSS.
But because we pretend to be a democratic bunch of reporters she gives me the option of saying no. I'm given some three minutes to decide. Thrilling? Yes. Scary? Yes. But me? Well...I say yes. I think even Laj is surprised. I don't quite have a decisive stand on this issue, though I do quite agree with the right to life argument. But again R R Patil also seems to be talking sense sometimes. The only thing going against him, as far as I'm concerned, is the fact that there are far more important issues that need attention.
Moving on to the more personal crisis caused by R R Patil in my life, I don't know whether I'm trembling with fear or excitement. Basically, I don't know how to dance. I mean, I can manage to shake my hands a bit, but my legs simply refuse to move. I don't even dance at normal pubs or parties. And here I am consenting to dance in a room full of leering, lecherous men!
I go meet Manjit Singh Sethi, the owner of Karishma Bar in Dadar. As soon as I enter the bar, I'm in a different world. Even at 2 in the afternoon, there are girls dancing and drunk men gawking at them, with loud Bollywood music playing in the background. I meet Manjit in his cabin and he agrees to give me a chance. I have to join that evening.
I go back to office to ponder over my decision. There is not a single person in the newsroom who supports me, but I can't back off now...Izzat ka sawaal hai..
At seven pm, I set off, along with Santosh Harhare, who is supposed to click my photographs, chupke se. The trembling has got worse now. We reach the bar. I take a diffferent entrance, while Santosh uses the main door meant for customers. As soon as I enter, I'm lost. While looking around, one of the girls mistakes me, quite correctly, for a journalist. She comes and politely asks me what I'm doing here and whether I'm a journalist. Looking at her confident, attractive face, I almost want to admit the truth, but I blurt out the practiced line with the right degree of nervousness. She smiles, gives me a motherly look and leads me inside. Seeing that I have not brought any appropriate clothes, she instructs a girl, about the same height as me to lend me a chania choli. The girl, Ruksana, is none too happy. "Kal nahi milega" she says rudely and walks off. Goddammit! This feels like the first day of school.
The dress she has given me, I suspect, is heavier than me. I stand in front of the mirror trying to figure it out. Finally, Ruksana takes pity on me, and comes to my rescue. She makes me take off my clothes, and though I'm only in the company of girls, I feel distinctly uncomfortable. I hope I'm not wearing anything branded inside. Oh hell, I should have thought of this. Thankfully, I'm not. "arrey baap re..iski toh kamar hi nahi hai.." quips one girl. Yea right...thank you ma'am. Another smiles, "lekin baaki sab toh badhiya hai.." Aiyyo...can I disappear..
Another girl mutters under her breath, “There’s a new girl… now we won’t even get whatever little we used to.” But when I tell them I have never worked in a dance bar before, they immediately turn more sympathetic.
Finally the torture is over; the dress is on me, albeit with a lot of safety pins. Next comes the hairstyle. I prefer to keep a half pony tail, but my well wishers won't hear of it. So off it comes, and I even have to comb my hair. I put my foot down, where make up is concerned and they let me off with only a light brown lipstick and black eyeliner. So, I'm ready.
The waiter has already started taking rounds, pestering the girls to get on the floor. A few girls have reluctantly agreed. This is their bread and butter, but getting up from the make up room and entering the dance hall takes grit. I feel the same misery when I'm asked to go out. It’s time to put on a fake smile, brace yourself and enter. A girl, Neha, accompanies me.
There is a Ganesh murti (I think it was Ganesh, or was it Nataraja...god knows) on one of the pillars on the dance floor, and after the mandatory namaskar, we are each given Rs 10 to hold in our hands. I stand behind the pillar and pretend to dance. Neha, dressed in pink, cute, chubby, fair, with the right make up and straight long hair, dances with me. I'm so glad even she does not know to dance. She has joined just a few days ago.
I observe the other girls. Most of them have their eyes to the floor, or stare into space. They are only physically in that place, while mentally, far away. I wonder what they could be dreaming of. Sometimes, when our eyes meet, I can almost feel the embarrasment and pain behind them.
Other, more experienced girls, look flirtatiously at the customers, wink, pout, and move seductively. One of them especially, has mastered the art of seduction. She is beautiful beyond doubt - of medium height, green eyed, with translucent skin, light brown hair, and naturally pink lips. She's the only one among us who seems to know how to dance. She's so beautiful that even the other girls can't help forgetting their dance, and looking at her instead.
I try to dance, but realise I’m doing a lousy job. Finally, a waiter hands me a 100 rupee note and points out towards the customer who gave it. I don't know what to do. I can't even get myself to smile at him. I look at the waiter for help. But he's of no use. I continue pretending to dance. Then comes the second 100 rupee note. After four such notes, I muster the courage to smile at him. Chalo, atleast Ive got something. I almost feel better. I calculate : 400 per day, say 500. 500 multiplied by 30 makes 15000. Fuck! more than I earn in a month. And this is only my first day! I wonder how much the green eyed girl must be earning...not less than 3000 a day. Fuck man...that makes it 90,000!!
Anyways, back to the dance floor. I steal glances at Santosh from time to time. I hope he's getting some decent photographs.
After some time, my customer, beckons me. Okkkayyy...what does he want now...i wonder? I make my way to him and he hands me a tissue paper. It says something to the effect of : “Kya socha hai? Aaj night ho jaaye? Bol haan ya na.”
Not knowing how to react, I head towards the make up room and show the note to another girl, Ruksana, who immediately tells me "Say yes, or he won’t udao any more money on you.” I tell her, I don't want to sleep with him, but she replies: “Who sleeps with these men? Just say yes and let him spend some more money on you.” She tells me that after work, the girls all leave in taxis provided for by the bar, and nobody dare touch them.
I still can't muster the courage to say yes. I wish I had though, I would have earned much more that night. Anyways, since I don't react to that note, more tissue papers follow : "Tere ko kya jaroor hai doosre ke saamne naachne ki. Bol tereko mere saath aane ka ya nahi? Mere ko tere saath kaam hai isiliye tere ko paisa diya.."
Finally my sense of justice awakens, and I think he deserves an explanation. So I go and tell him that my brother is coming to pick me up tonight and I can't possibly make it. So could he please come tommorow? To which he replies that he is from Pune and is returning tommorow morning. I make a sorry face, to which he adds that a friend of mine would also do. I tell Ruksana, who immediately says yes. But her condition is that he should shower her with a garland of Rs 1000. I think he proves too smart for her and the deal is off.
Make-up breaks give the girls a chance to go back to being themselves, if only for a short while. Here, girls, cuss freely and with a vengeance. If only the customers out there knew what their beauties actually thought of them..Others cry in corners. Many havent earned anything that night. Others fight on cell phones, with husbands, lovers..
One girl, Rehana, is fighting on the phone with her husband. She is his second wife, and now he wants to marry for a third time. After five heated minutes the conversation is back to mushy I love yous and miss yous. Love is scarce around here and everyone is trying to borrow some from life.
A waiter yells at us to go back to the dance floor. The expressions on the girls’ faces when they are told to go back are heart rending. It’s back to the tired smiles and seductive looks.
The day is finally over. But my asshole colleague, VKM, decides to make his entry just then and announce that we are from the press. I can't believe my eyes. Anyways, all the girls disappear when they realise this, and I know I can't enter that bar in a long, long time.
Don't ask me what I learnt from this experience. I don't think I learnt anything, though I did write some shit crap about how i admired the girls for their courage and jazz like that, because I was supposed to. But for me, it simply remained a great experience.
The R R Patil versus dance bars issue is at its peak and every newspaper worth its newsprint is cashing in on it. All newspapers have taken the "right to make a living" stand and are supporting the dance bars. Of course I have my doubts or rather I'm quite convinced that a lot of money has passed hands. Laj has only passed on to me directions given by THE BOSS.
But because we pretend to be a democratic bunch of reporters she gives me the option of saying no. I'm given some three minutes to decide. Thrilling? Yes. Scary? Yes. But me? Well...I say yes. I think even Laj is surprised. I don't quite have a decisive stand on this issue, though I do quite agree with the right to life argument. But again R R Patil also seems to be talking sense sometimes. The only thing going against him, as far as I'm concerned, is the fact that there are far more important issues that need attention.
Moving on to the more personal crisis caused by R R Patil in my life, I don't know whether I'm trembling with fear or excitement. Basically, I don't know how to dance. I mean, I can manage to shake my hands a bit, but my legs simply refuse to move. I don't even dance at normal pubs or parties. And here I am consenting to dance in a room full of leering, lecherous men!
I go meet Manjit Singh Sethi, the owner of Karishma Bar in Dadar. As soon as I enter the bar, I'm in a different world. Even at 2 in the afternoon, there are girls dancing and drunk men gawking at them, with loud Bollywood music playing in the background. I meet Manjit in his cabin and he agrees to give me a chance. I have to join that evening.
I go back to office to ponder over my decision. There is not a single person in the newsroom who supports me, but I can't back off now...Izzat ka sawaal hai..
At seven pm, I set off, along with Santosh Harhare, who is supposed to click my photographs, chupke se. The trembling has got worse now. We reach the bar. I take a diffferent entrance, while Santosh uses the main door meant for customers. As soon as I enter, I'm lost. While looking around, one of the girls mistakes me, quite correctly, for a journalist. She comes and politely asks me what I'm doing here and whether I'm a journalist. Looking at her confident, attractive face, I almost want to admit the truth, but I blurt out the practiced line with the right degree of nervousness. She smiles, gives me a motherly look and leads me inside. Seeing that I have not brought any appropriate clothes, she instructs a girl, about the same height as me to lend me a chania choli. The girl, Ruksana, is none too happy. "Kal nahi milega" she says rudely and walks off. Goddammit! This feels like the first day of school.
The dress she has given me, I suspect, is heavier than me. I stand in front of the mirror trying to figure it out. Finally, Ruksana takes pity on me, and comes to my rescue. She makes me take off my clothes, and though I'm only in the company of girls, I feel distinctly uncomfortable. I hope I'm not wearing anything branded inside. Oh hell, I should have thought of this. Thankfully, I'm not. "arrey baap re..iski toh kamar hi nahi hai.." quips one girl. Yea right...thank you ma'am. Another smiles, "lekin baaki sab toh badhiya hai.." Aiyyo...can I disappear..
Another girl mutters under her breath, “There’s a new girl… now we won’t even get whatever little we used to.” But when I tell them I have never worked in a dance bar before, they immediately turn more sympathetic.
Finally the torture is over; the dress is on me, albeit with a lot of safety pins. Next comes the hairstyle. I prefer to keep a half pony tail, but my well wishers won't hear of it. So off it comes, and I even have to comb my hair. I put my foot down, where make up is concerned and they let me off with only a light brown lipstick and black eyeliner. So, I'm ready.
The waiter has already started taking rounds, pestering the girls to get on the floor. A few girls have reluctantly agreed. This is their bread and butter, but getting up from the make up room and entering the dance hall takes grit. I feel the same misery when I'm asked to go out. It’s time to put on a fake smile, brace yourself and enter. A girl, Neha, accompanies me.
There is a Ganesh murti (I think it was Ganesh, or was it Nataraja...god knows) on one of the pillars on the dance floor, and after the mandatory namaskar, we are each given Rs 10 to hold in our hands. I stand behind the pillar and pretend to dance. Neha, dressed in pink, cute, chubby, fair, with the right make up and straight long hair, dances with me. I'm so glad even she does not know to dance. She has joined just a few days ago.
I observe the other girls. Most of them have their eyes to the floor, or stare into space. They are only physically in that place, while mentally, far away. I wonder what they could be dreaming of. Sometimes, when our eyes meet, I can almost feel the embarrasment and pain behind them.
Other, more experienced girls, look flirtatiously at the customers, wink, pout, and move seductively. One of them especially, has mastered the art of seduction. She is beautiful beyond doubt - of medium height, green eyed, with translucent skin, light brown hair, and naturally pink lips. She's the only one among us who seems to know how to dance. She's so beautiful that even the other girls can't help forgetting their dance, and looking at her instead.
I try to dance, but realise I’m doing a lousy job. Finally, a waiter hands me a 100 rupee note and points out towards the customer who gave it. I don't know what to do. I can't even get myself to smile at him. I look at the waiter for help. But he's of no use. I continue pretending to dance. Then comes the second 100 rupee note. After four such notes, I muster the courage to smile at him. Chalo, atleast Ive got something. I almost feel better. I calculate : 400 per day, say 500. 500 multiplied by 30 makes 15000. Fuck! more than I earn in a month. And this is only my first day! I wonder how much the green eyed girl must be earning...not less than 3000 a day. Fuck man...that makes it 90,000!!
Anyways, back to the dance floor. I steal glances at Santosh from time to time. I hope he's getting some decent photographs.
After some time, my customer, beckons me. Okkkayyy...what does he want now...i wonder? I make my way to him and he hands me a tissue paper. It says something to the effect of : “Kya socha hai? Aaj night ho jaaye? Bol haan ya na.”
Not knowing how to react, I head towards the make up room and show the note to another girl, Ruksana, who immediately tells me "Say yes, or he won’t udao any more money on you.” I tell her, I don't want to sleep with him, but she replies: “Who sleeps with these men? Just say yes and let him spend some more money on you.” She tells me that after work, the girls all leave in taxis provided for by the bar, and nobody dare touch them.
I still can't muster the courage to say yes. I wish I had though, I would have earned much more that night. Anyways, since I don't react to that note, more tissue papers follow : "Tere ko kya jaroor hai doosre ke saamne naachne ki. Bol tereko mere saath aane ka ya nahi? Mere ko tere saath kaam hai isiliye tere ko paisa diya.."
Finally my sense of justice awakens, and I think he deserves an explanation. So I go and tell him that my brother is coming to pick me up tonight and I can't possibly make it. So could he please come tommorow? To which he replies that he is from Pune and is returning tommorow morning. I make a sorry face, to which he adds that a friend of mine would also do. I tell Ruksana, who immediately says yes. But her condition is that he should shower her with a garland of Rs 1000. I think he proves too smart for her and the deal is off.
Make-up breaks give the girls a chance to go back to being themselves, if only for a short while. Here, girls, cuss freely and with a vengeance. If only the customers out there knew what their beauties actually thought of them..Others cry in corners. Many havent earned anything that night. Others fight on cell phones, with husbands, lovers..
One girl, Rehana, is fighting on the phone with her husband. She is his second wife, and now he wants to marry for a third time. After five heated minutes the conversation is back to mushy I love yous and miss yous. Love is scarce around here and everyone is trying to borrow some from life.
A waiter yells at us to go back to the dance floor. The expressions on the girls’ faces when they are told to go back are heart rending. It’s back to the tired smiles and seductive looks.
The day is finally over. But my asshole colleague, VKM, decides to make his entry just then and announce that we are from the press. I can't believe my eyes. Anyways, all the girls disappear when they realise this, and I know I can't enter that bar in a long, long time.
Don't ask me what I learnt from this experience. I don't think I learnt anything, though I did write some shit crap about how i admired the girls for their courage and jazz like that, because I was supposed to. But for me, it simply remained a great experience.
posted by another wanderer | Wednesday, September 06, 2006
5 Comments:
Hi,
Such a great write, thoughtfull and with remarkable insight...You rock....!!i wish dance bars open up and save the lifes of thousands of people...
thanks...
u write so well! felt like i was there!
hey..u wr bold to be there along with men in need ! I don wanna tell like ,being a gal u did that n this bla bla ! i meant to admire ur courage.Bravo ! keep ur inquisitive journalism going...
Thanks a lot for such detailed and graphic description of your experience. Rarely does one come across such a well-written and meaningful write-up on blogs.
Dance bars are a world where you cannot remain unconscious of your sexuality, surely cannot be indifferent to it. Yet, its that agression expressed through eyes that bothers me the most.
-- Akshaya
after all this months (or years rather) i remember to have read that article. and now when i read the story behind the story of the story, i find it completely new perspective.
good one.
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