Maximum City by Unknown

Maximum City by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub


MONALISA WALKS into the coffee shop of the Sea Princess in Juhu a few days later, and as she comes toward me every head turns to look at her, the men with lust, the women with hate. She is wearing a red Ralph Lauren tank top, jeans, and platform shoes; a lacy black bra peeps out from the straps of the top. Her chest looks tanned; actually, it has been reddened from playing Holi the previous day. Her hair is up and in a ponytail behind her head; she apologizes for it. "I've just oiled it." She has woken up only fifteen minutes ago.

She says, "There is a girl wearing brown on your right. Look at her." I casually glance to the right. "Do you see the man with her?" He is much older, plump and dark, with a mustache. They are sitting on the same side of the table, scanning the menus. "She's one of the girls. We recognized each other as soon as I came in."

She tells me about the bar she works in and its dancers. Sapphire has the best girls in the city, good sexy dancers, with good figures and height, fair, with long hair. Most of the bar-line girls come from the village; there are very few native Bombayites. They are brought into the bar line when they're thirteen or fourteen by their parents, an older sister, or an agent; by the time they're in their mid-twenties, they're too old for it. They live in the areas around Foras Road or in Congress House, where the rent for a shoddy little room is an exorbitant 10,000 rupees and the deposit seven and a half lakhs, but there is safety in numbers. Three or four girls might share a room, an air-conditioned one. They all have cell phones and some of them drive their own cars. Most of them are saving money to send to their parents in the village, to buy a house with their earnings. "Behind every earner there are fifty eaters," points out Monalisa.

The customers at Sapphire can be very young, just out of their teenage years, stealing away from home and without much money. Monalisa has no time to waste on such children. The next age group is the boys in their early to mid-twenties, "handsome, young, and good. These are the ones with whom the girls fall in love." But she can't be too public about her affection, can't advertise her fealty. "There it all runs on ego. If a girl talks too much to a client he will think, She is mine only. He will take her for granted." So when a bar girl's heart is lost to a man, she had better not, if she is smart, wear it on her sleeve.

The whole idea of the bar line, she explains, is to make the client fall in love with her and to make him think she loves him too. I ask her how she does it, how she can



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