Dancing to the tune of destiny
Morals are purely relative. What’s virtuous to one can be a sin to the other. That’s perhaps the guileless premise of journalist Sonia Faleiro’s irrefutably heartbreaking book The Beautiful Thing. The book narrates how the lives of thousands of Mumbai bar dancers were thrown out of gear following the 2005 ban on dance bars by the state government. The ban was essentially implemented on the grounds of morality.
Morals are purely relative. What’s virtuous to one can be a sin to the other. That’s perhaps the guileless premise of journalist Sonia Faleiro’s irrefutably heartbreaking book The Beautiful Thing. The book narrates how the lives of thousands of Mumbai bar dancers were thrown out of gear following the 2005 ban on dance bars by the state government. The ban was essentially implemented on the grounds of morality. The book prods us to think of the poor and the marginalised as real people, in flesh and blood, rather than as mere ideas, institutions and campaigns. To Sonia, the ban was an incredible act of violence. The out of work bar dancers are still awaiting rehabilitation and many had no other option but to become sex workers. “As a result of which about 70,000 girls related to the profession were sent on to the streets. The outcome isn’t something that wasn’t predicted before the ban was executed. It has taken away their only source of income. The only profession they know. Remember we aren’t talking of IT professionals or graduates”, says Sonia. The captivating narrative moves with the 19-year-old protagonist, Leela. Charismatic and full of life, Leela knows that she is “bootiful”. Her abusive father pimped her to local cops when she was only 13. She has been living in her 1-BHK on Mumbai’s Mira Road for the past six years, since she fled from her village. Leela’s world revolves around Night Lovers, her dance bar. She refers to her married manager, Shetty as her husband. Her only outing on her night-off is to Mumbai — Mumbai to her is Kamatipura and Aksa beach. She hangs out with eunuchs, hijras and madams along with her only friend Priya, who works at Raspberry — another dance bar. Leela’s is not the only devastating story. All her colleagues at the dance bar are raped, pimped or sold by a close relative. “Men were ch****, Leela dismissed, making a f*** sign with her fist. They lived to profit from the women in their lives I could do a survey with that little notebook-pencil of mine if I didn’t believe her. It would reveal that everyone of the bar dancers in Leela’s building had either been sold by a blood relative or raped by one”, Sonia writes. Through Leela, Sonia meets pimps, customers, eunuchs, madams, prostitutes and police officers while researching for this book. Ironically, the bar dancers are well aware of their place in the society and how they are despised. Yet, they crave to be loved like everybody else. For them, it was like being born in a room with no doors and windows. Leela, for example, can’t return to her village as all her gluttonous brothers and abused mother are interested in, is her money that she sends them. She can’t change her world and feels trapped. The only door the bar dancers see opens through marriage which, they know, is almost an impossibility. Sonia writes: “Leela and Priya wanted to be rescued through romantic love, even though they had chosen bar dancing for independence it allowed them to enjoy; independence, in particular from men. This is one of the greatest contradiction of the line and of bar dancers themselves”. And who are those to despise them The book talks of the nexus between the police, the politicians and the bureaucrats who directly and indirectly benefit from dance bars and related professions. “A policeman would grab Leela and with the force of his legs and lathi propel her into the autorickshaw. ‘Paisa nikal kutiya’, he might say, calling her a bitch, demanding hafta for not arresting her. ‘Arresting me for what ’ she might have asked the first time. ‘For being a randi’, he would have replied. He could steal her money, rip off her gold chain and slap her around. Leela paid the police and everyone she knew paid them too”, writes Sonia. She took five years to come up with her well-researched non-fiction, a book that gives a sneak peek into their obscure lives. The Beautiful Thing is not an outcome of mere curiosity, but a genuine interest in their lives that led Sonia into their secret underworld. And with somebody like Leela you can just be hopeful!