Chapter 400 Strong Demand
Mumbai's largest red-light district is in Kamathipura. The great Dalit poet Anand said, "If you have a keen eye, all of Mumbai is Kamathipura."
It was dirty and messy here, even worse than the slums, but he didn't mind it at all.
He came here often, and he would sit in a bar facing the street full of men.
The area resembled an open-air public toilet, and the air was filled with the unpleasant smell of urine.
On the first-floor street-facing window, an advertisement was posted: "Motel, Air Conditioning."
Men either walked alone or in groups of three or four as they passed by prostitutes standing under the dim street lights.
From time to time, some of them would come forward to chat with her, and would rudely look at the streetwalkers' age, facial features and figure.
Older prostitutes sat on a nearby porch, looking increasingly tired as the night progressed.
Anand had barely sat down when a young Malayali man, Shezan Babu, a know-it-all in the red-light district, came over.
"Hey, man, why don't you go have some fun? You look like you're really horny and ready to take anything that comes your way."
"Too young." Anand shook his head indifferently.
"What? Not satisfied with the ones out there? It doesn't matter. I can teach you how to find the best partner."
Bob went on and on, saying that he liked the ladies to be gentle and charming, and that the bear girls in Dubai would cost a thousand for a night, but they were very considerate.
Not long ago, the short pimp took him into a room with five or six streetwalkers, and he chose the one from Andhra Pradesh.
They went to another room and she asked if she should take off all her clothes, but Babu said no.
He is afraid of getting sick. Those diseases are fine, but the word "love" is so scary.
But he stripped himself naked, lay down in the dark and let the other party do whatever he wanted.
She gave Babu a small umbrella and he asked her for a second one.
Anand was shocked. "You're wearing two of them? I hate those things. They're so uncomfortable."
"It's better to be careful in Kamathipura." Babu cherished his life.
"That's you. The partners I look for are all decent people." Anand was a little proud.
"How serious is it?"
"They are absolutely wonderful women. Just look at how well they take care of their grandchildren."
"What?" Bob was stunned and didn't react.
"Anyway, this isn't my cup of tea."
Babu was not convinced. As the gossip girl in Kamathipura, he had seen all kinds of women.
He boasted that he had participated in group sex, and the prostitute would not only not refuse, but would also readily agree.
Because this is more efficient and you can collect money from several people at a time.
The usual charge for one person is 100 rupees, and there is a 20% discount for three people. Rooms and drinks are charged separately, as is hemp.
Just now when he went to relax, the woman gave Babu a grain of hemp and charged him twenty rupees.
"After smoking that stuff and then exercising, you won't feel tired for a long time." Bob said with deep understanding.
"How long?"
"I even went outside during halftime and called my mother. She kept talking to me for a long time before hanging up."
“I don’t have to smoke anything,” Anand said disdainfully.
If you don't have some skills, how can you convince those partners who just sit there and eat dirt?
They sat in the bar discussing the call girls under the street lights and commenting on them.
In fact, there is no significant difference between the women in the red light district and the women in other places in Mumbai, except that there are more East Asian faces here.
Most of them are Nepalese women, and the rest are dark-skinned women from Marathi and Andhra Pradesh.
They are often surrounded by children, and their clothes are not provocative, with flowers in their hair as if they are going out to the movies or to a restaurant.
If you make excessive requests, they will reject them sternly.
These streetwalkers stick to the bottom line and are very principled in how they deal with customers.
While they were talking, a pimp walked up to the two call girls standing under the street light and took out a ledger to write something down.
The two women paid, he accepted the money, recorded the bill, and walked away without saying a word.
Look, this is Mumbai, every business has a cut.
The red light district is doing great business, and even poor people without money linger on the streets just to feast their eyes.
The hunger for that kind of thing is not limited to the lower classes of society; class-divided Mumbai is particularly crazy about it.
In Chinese restaurants and the Oberoi Hotel, groups of socialites openly discussed their lovers over lunch.
White-collar workers on Vauxhall Street watch the coquettish and heavily made-up Western women in music videos. Unable to get close to decent girls in real life, they become more and more addicted to adult movies obtained through secret channels.
Whether on the street, in skyscrapers, five-star hotels, beer bars or tube-shaped buildings, women are owned and controlled by men, and women in red-light districts are sewers for men to vent their lust and emotions.
Anand was not here to indulge in sensual pleasures, he was here on business.
"Is that woman still coming? If you change your mind, I'll pretend nothing happened."
"No, she will definitely come. She doesn't mind group sex, so this is nothing." Bob stood up and prepared to make a phone call.
But before he could take a step, two people, a man and a woman, came into the bar.
One of them was the woman they were waiting for, and the other seemed to be her partner.
The woman took a quick glance at the bar and then walked quickly towards this side.
She had a pretty face, considered one of the best looking streetwalkers, and her fair skin was especially prized by Indian men.
For Indian men, when it comes to whether a woman is beautiful or not, they don’t first look at her appearance, but rather whether her skin is white.
Most of the Bollywood actresses who are popular with the audience have lighter skin.
"Do you keep your word?" the woman asked directly.
“Of course, we are a legitimate company, the kind that signs contracts,” Anand assured.
"You have to pay a deposit first." Obviously she didn't trust them so easily.
"No problem, but this place is not suitable. We need to find another place."
The woman nodded. She knew the bar was crowded and full of people. She whispered a few words with the man next to her, then gestured for Anand and the others to lead the way.
Bob was very enthusiastic and walked out of the bar first. The place they were going to was not far away, just nearby.
That was Mumbai's largest brothel - "Capitol House", named after the headquarters of the Indian National Congress across the street.
The 86-year-old gatekeeper will proudly tell you that Mahatma Gandhi sat here when he held a sit-in demonstration for the independence movement.
The greatest battle of this self-denying Mahatma's life was not against the British Empire, but against his own lust.
Whether he was successful or not is a matter of debate, but there is no doubt that he holds a special place in the hearts of Indians.
But if he knew about this, he would probably not be happy about the current situation of India after independence.
Because the building across the street, named "Conservatory of Music", is actually home to call girls, bar girls, and their drunken clients.
Men in haute couture and handmade leather shoes stood there, flirting with women cooking and spitting tobacco leaves into the city's dirtiest corners.
There were open sewage pipes everywhere, and the ground was slippery with rotting food piled up.
During Holi, the women in the Capitol went wild. They were drunk and would drag anyone they grabbed into the sewer pipes, or hit them with bloody sanitary products dipped in sewer mud.
There were open doors and windows all around Anand and his friends, and women of all kinds were washing clothes, bathing, cooking, and doing housework inside.
This is their residence, where regular customers pick them up and take them to hotels or inns to "do business."
Anand carefully stepped around the trash can, but Babu didn't mind. "There's beauty everywhere, so there's nothing to worry about with trash."
He surveyed the flowers with admiration, all in full bloom, in all varieties, and at prices ranging from fifty rupees (the price at the nearby bars) to a thousand rupees (Babbu's preferred price) to fifty thousand rupees (accompanied by a Bollywood starlet).
The woman who followed him did not look panicked. It was obvious that they had informed each other of the location of the "service" long before they met.
And she lived in the nearby Pila compound, just across the street from the "Capitol".
Anand has a permanent studio in the "Capitol Building", which is actually more like a basement.
There's no way around it. This kind of work is still too advanced in India, so it's better to be careful.
The door was opened by a cheerful young man wearing glasses named Srinivas.
He is one of the few amateur computer gurus, spending his days with routers and screens. He is obsessed with adult films, a veritable fanatic.
He grew up in Kamathipura, a place where teenage boys pool their parental allowances to pay for sex with call girls.
Srinivas later joined the new federation, but not for fighting, as he was a technical talent.
"The filming crew is ready and just waiting for the leading actor to appear." He stretched his neck to look behind Anand.
When he saw the woman, his eyes lit up.
“Wow, she has the makings of a Bollywood star.”
"Stop talking nonsense and don't forget the rules here." Anand slapped the back of his head.
"Yes, yes, we are a legitimate company and we don't do business of forced buying and selling." Srinivas muttered.
Anand ignored him and led his men directly into the basement.
It is a big place, divided into several rooms. There are various styles of shooting locations, luxurious, dilapidated, ancient, different religious
There is even a lounge and a doctor, which is even more formal than a Bollywood crew.
"Madam, here is the contract, take a look." Anand pushed a contract in front of her.
The woman couldn't read, so she handed the contract to the man next to her. He glanced at it, a little surprised, and then whispered something quickly in her ear.
"A one-time payment of 50,000 rupees for showing your face?" She was so surprised that her voice was a little sharp.
"Yes, you can refuse, but the appearance fee is only 20,000."
"Lu!" The woman quickly pressed her handprint.
She is from Nepal and after this job, she will have saved enough money to return to her hometown and leave this country.
This was nothing to her. She had received so many people that she couldn't even count them.
Anand shook his head, and his men paid the money happily.
In another room, the filming crew was already checking the equipment.
An hour or two later, the film would be sent to Srinivas for post-production.
In another seven or eight days, a brand new Indian-themed film will be born.
The master tapes are sent to a workshop two blocks away, where they are quickly pressed into countless CDs and sold all over India.
Yes, Anand has teamed up with the New Union to set up a film company.
This film company focuses on gender issues, relieving great pressure for repressed Indian men.
(End of this chapter)
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