dance bar

the dance bar ban has been lifted. thank god the irritating moral policing that the city government seems intent on pursuing has been put in place at least once.

i remember that one time in another lifetime when i had gone to one of these rather seedy joints in bandra with a few friends. a dance bar right in front of national college with an ornate door with black suited bouncers that gave us the once over before allowing us in.

a room leads to an inner room that leads in turn to another. the first room has darkened corners where the men drink on while the center of the space is taken up by a large raised lighted floor and women catering to every possible desire gyrate distractedly to bollywood remixes. as you delve deeper into the caverns the lighting gets more elaborate and the décor more ornate. the ceiling erupts in baroque flourishes and faux corinthian details in plaster of paris. the walls are all mirrors and there are two upholstered sofa seats on either side of the room with glass center tables in front. two men stand at the entrance of the room to control unruly behavior among the patrons.

the girls here pay a little more attention to the customers. this time there might be eye contact and you might even be treated to a personal performance by a type that might feel attracted to. it would be strange to be attracted to any of them as they seem to all be clichés catering to the strange sexual desires of the indian male. there is the bharatiya nari wearing a white sari who stares into the distance and gives you a huge cold shoulder- whe does not dance she merely floats from one end of the room to the other. the north eastern babe wears the costume of a typical college going girl and is feisty and friendly; there is a folky type, a western type, the mujra type.. every type is present depending on your particular fascination.

the company we kept was a variety of men on tours of the city, gujarati business men on a mens night out, college students getting their testosterone kicks spending dads hard earned money and others like us- curious, afraid and pretending to be quite chilled about it all.

we sat and watched, not exactly leeringly but definitely admiringly as the girls gave us some kind of attention whenever we felt like it- or when the other men flaunted some money at them, whenever they bored of nursing their drinks. we did not have any money to give and it did not seem that it was necessary to do so to be there. the girls do not look at you hile they dance. they stare at themselves in the mirror- you do not exist really. it helps in a strange way to give the odd relationship a little decorom. then there is the other strange ritual- the showering of money note after note on the dancing girl. i had seen it only on screen and it was odd seeing it in reality.

the uncanny – anthony vidler calls it. spaces that lie in the realm of dreams and disturbances- where the ‘deviant’ is allowed expression. desire desires these warped mad spaces within a complex web of sexual and monetary power. to be honest my middle class morality did revolt strongly to the chemistry of the space. the curiousity i had in the beginning led to an embarrassed humour, that soon became boredom and then disgust- with myself for being there. my liberal politics was given a really hard time by my experience. we all quickly downed our one beer and ran out of there with our tails between our legs. pun intended.