Beautiful Thing: Inside the Secret World of Bombay's Dance Bars (28 page)

‘As if the bar line is any better,’ Baby said. ‘In the bar line our name is mud. “The Mohameddans are the worst,” people say. “They have dozens of children—ten, twelve, fifteen—and they can’t afford to feed, clothe or educate them. So what do they do? Push their daughters into the bar line! Make them dance! And all the while they’re paying for abba, ammi, bhai, behen. And they have babies, so many babies! More and more babies! And they change their name! From Imtiaz to Roshni! From Salma to Seema! Meena, Jyoti, Pinky, Tina!”’

‘But there is truth in this,’ sighed Sajida apa. ‘We do these things, why lie? Why didn’t we fight R.R. Patil like the Hindus did? So many of our girls are in this line, I cannot tell you, it’s our greatest shame. But what’s the alternative? If we don’t educate our girls, school them well, what will they eat? How will they feed us? What will they do but seduce men for money? Anyway, we can talk of these things later. Your girl was having a bath, but she must be ready now.’

Leela was enveloped in what must have been one of Sajida apa’s nightdresses. With her knees drawn up to her stomach and her eyes closed, with no make-up to obscure the innocence of her face, she looked as she was: a young girl. Her wet hair splashed across the pillow gave it a shadow of dampness, but I wondered if the dampness wasn’t also of her tears. I thought she was asleep and so I perched gingerly on the edge of the bed, waiting for her.

‘Where did you disappear?’ Leela murmured. ‘Why did you leave?’

I was startled.

‘
Tumne toh dimag
out
kar diya
.’ You drove me out of my mind.

‘Wasn’t that what you were going to say?’ she laughed, snapping open her eyes.

I was so worried, I agreed.

She still has her sense of humour, I thought to myself with relief.

‘Sajida apa is crazy,’ Leela said. ‘She has a name for each one of her fish, and before she goes to bed she kisses them through the glass, tata-bye bye! She calls them her jaans.’

She sounds crazy, I smiled.

‘And since I’ve arrived she’s been after me to learn cooking. When I said to her, “If I start cooking won’t all the hotils go out of bijniss?” she insisted I attend a mehendi design class. Mehendi! Is that what she thinks I’m worth? Or does she presume that because I’m a barwali I’ll take anything that’s thrown my way? Kaam
nahin toh
mehendi
sahi?
No work, so mehendi? I’m a dancer, not a mehendiwali, not a
bawarchi
! Someone tell her that!’

You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, I said.

‘I’ll sit on her cat!’

And you don’t have to stay here, or with Apsara. We’ll figure something out.

Leela mumbled into her pillow.

I can’t hear you, I said.

‘My brother is coming for me,’ she repeated.

I thought you didn’t care for your brothers.

‘Speak with respect! He’s my blood.’

I didn’t mean it that way. I just thought you didn’t get along. If you need a place to stay we’ll find you one. You don’t have to worry.

‘I have a hundred places to stay; I don’t need charity.’

It’s not charity.

Leela turned her face away.

After a few minutes of silence, I stepped out. Sajida and Baby had thoughtfully moved their conversation and the kitten to the darkness of the stoop. I interrupted them to ask of Leela’s brother.

When is he coming? I said.

Sajida apa looked up with a sigh. ‘Is that what she told you?’

Isn’t it true?

She shook her head. ‘Her phone got stole and so she called home from the PCO booth. Her brother said, “Stay there, I’ll reach in two days.” But the day after, when I called to confirm what time his train would arrive, he said to me, “Don’t mind, but can you keep Leela for a while? It’s just that I started a new bijniss and if I bring home a sister who used to work in bars, I’ll lose all my customers. My good name too.” I told him what I thought of him—factory of shamelessness! But I couldn’t tell Leela. What would I say, you tell? It’s always the same with these girls—a horror film!’

She helped him start his business, I said. With her money.

‘Don’t take it personally,’ Sajida shrugged. ‘We should be grateful she had the sense to ask for help. She had no money, so she walked into one of our sister organizations in Khar and they notified me because of my experience with such girls. Otherwise, do you know what could have happened to her? A lost girl her age in small-small clothes walking up and down the road on her own, with nothing to say for herself but her name? I’ve heard of girls younger than her, ten years younger than her, kidnapped for doing exactly what she did, kidnapped, beaten and then sold into sex. You think she is in trouble, let me tell you she is lucky. Your girl is a lucky girl and you should tell her that.’

Baby sighed, ‘She’s right.’

‘She’s being a princess!’ Sajida said, growing angry. ‘What for is she sorry for herself? I can show you pictures, I have pictures of girls, how they were rescued. One was kept in a cage made for a dog! You can try, try all you want, I tell you. But you cannot change her ending.’

‘Her ending is her own,’ agreed Baby. ‘She is responsible for it.’

I went back inside and sat beside Leela. Sajida doesn’t want to tell you, I said. Your brother isn’t coming for you.

‘As if I don’t know,’ she whispered.

Let me help you.

‘Don’t you want to know where I went?’

If you want to tell me.

‘To my favourite place.’

McDonald’s, Lokhandwala?

She smiled.

What did you eat?

‘Burger-fry,’ she smiled weakly. ‘And two Cokes.’

Did you find a toy?

‘Yes, on the floor. Oh, but then I lost it. So sad.’

She was quiet for a moment.

‘I ate and ate and I stayed until it closed. Then I sat outside and thought through everything. So I have bad luck, I thought to myself. Bad luck is in my blood. It is true what they say—destiny is as strong as iron, it is tougher than steel; nothing can change what is written for you. Because even after I ran away from my father and mother, even when I did everything I could to make myself better, better than what they had tried so hard to make me, even then I couldn’t change what was destined for me.

‘I just sat there, like a fool.

‘Then some girls came up to me. One of them asked why I was crying. I said, “That’s my bijniss.” The other one said, “If it’s your bijniss, why are you alone, away from your family?” They asked if I was thirsty. When I said “yes” they shared a bottle of daru with me. And so I knew we were alike. We started drinking and I told them everything. Oh, how satisfying it was! They asked if I’d like to come along with them to work, to a disco called Magnus, in Khar. Do you know what a disco is?’

I think so, I said.

‘No you don’t. It’s not what you think. It’s not what you know. It looks like a disco, but it’s really a brothel. Only men are allowed inside. All the girls are in half-half clothes. They
dance and sit on the laps of men and put their tongues in their mouths. One of the girls said to me, “
Tum bhi nacho, nahin to hamari
insult
ho jayegi
.” If you don’t dance, we’ll feel insulted. What was it to me? I started dancing. I don’t know what happened next but when I woke up it was morning. I was on the floor of someone’s house and all my clothes had been removed from me.’

You should have called me, I said.

‘Why? What had to happen would happen. Destiny, remember? And why for would I have gone home? To have Apsara call me a whore? No, I had no choice. I stayed with the girls, they became my gang. We went to Magnus every night. Then they started taking me to private parties in people’s houses. I almost went to jail! One night I was with a police inspector when we heard a commotion—“
Bhago
, police! Randi chal
hat
!” It was a raid! But my policeman was a decent man. “Quick,” he said, “jump into your clothes and get out through the bathroom window. Keep running and don’t look back. I’ll take care of this.” How I laughed as I ran fast-fast like a thief! I felt like a Hindi film heroine running away from goonda-bhai
log
! I thought God was smiling down on me again.

‘But then . . . Can girls live in peace? Huh! They turned on me, of course. It happened after a nanga naach. I had been told there would be “Navy”, that I would have to take off my clothes. After Navy, kustomers decide who gets which girl and for how much. I was never more disgusted. Not with the men. What can one expect of men? With the girls! Many of them had come with their children; some appeared only a few weeks old. They placed their children in a corner and immediately started dancing. Next thing I saw they were taking off their clothes and performing in their underwears to
Main aayi hoon UP Bihar lootne
. They were roaming in their chaddis! Openly! Shamelessly! Their children were staring at them with their thumbs in their mouths, their milk bottles by their side. They were probably wondering, “What is mummy doing?” Why was I upset? I don’t
know. They weren’t my children after all, and if their mothers didn’t dance what would they put in their milk bottles? Blessings? But when we returned home that night I said to my friends, “No more. I don’t want to see this any more.” My gang was upset with me. They tried to . . .’

Baby was tapping on the wall. ‘Leela?’ she called out.

‘Come in, Baby,’ Leela said. ‘Come in. What’s the matter?’

Baby parted the curtain and, lowering her voice, said, ‘Sajida apa is getting a little impatient. She wants to serve dinner.’

Tell her I’ll be out soon, I said.

‘Five times she has told me that she used
real
saffron and
real
cashew nuts and that if we don’t eat quickly the biryani won’t taste any good. Like
real
biryani.’

‘Real biryani!’ Leela snorted.

‘Sorry,’ Baby said apologetically. ‘Sajida apa worries so much about her girls. I’m scared for her health. She may get a heart attack! Cooking is a good distraction, wouldn’t you say? At least for Sajida apa. It takes her mind off the girls.’

‘Also fish,’ Leela quipped. ‘Food and her fish.’

Five minutes, I said to Baby. Please?

Baby nodded sympathetically and went back out.

‘They went crazy,’ Leela continued. ‘They took my refusal personally, as though by refusing to dance naked I was refusing their friendship. To my face they said “as you wish”. But that night in Magnus they got me real drunk. So drunk I couldn’t walk. I wanted to leave but they kept saying, “What’s the hurry?” Finally, when all the other girls had left, when even the manager was collecting his thailis, they took me to the bathroom. They threw me against a wall and one of them took off her belt and started beating me. I had bought that belt for her from Linking Road, two days back. It was Tommy Hilfiger. Good brand! After they beat me they cleaned me up. Then they pushed me into their car. One of them said, “Have you met my brother? He’s very
chikna
, very hensum. You want to be a good girl
na
? You don’t want to do Navy no more
na
? He’ll show you.” We drove
for a few minutes; we were still in Khar. They made me walk up to the fifth floor. Her brother was waiting for us. Him and his five friends. They showed me. They showed me all night. Then, when it was time for them to leave, they opened the door and kicked me down the stairs. No clothes, no chappals, nothing. Here, see.’

Leela reached into her pocket and, retrieving something, held it out for me.

It was a tooth.

I didn’t understand.

She opened her mouth wide.

I stared at her palm.

‘Don’t start,’ Leela warned gruffly.

I couldn’t help the tears in my eyes. I looked up at her.

‘This is why I didn’t call you! Because I knew this would happen. I knew it! Let it be. I said, let it be! Call the police you’ll say now! Call them and say what? They make maximum hafta from discos like Magnus. Did I not tell you that one of my best kustomers was an inspector? He was married. He had children. But there he was night after night drinking like a boy from Saudi who had never before seen a girl’s face. Best to let it pass. Let it be, I told you, I won’t say it again. Why are you staring? Have you never seen a tooth? Are there no teeth in your mouth?!