India Cabaret by Mira Nair

Summer in Goa is brutal (and it's not even May yet). In the afternoon you eat some lunch and find an air-conditioned spot to crawl into. You emerge from your hole a few hours later, ready to get back to real life (read work and adulting) again. So yesterday, just like any other day, I thought I'd take a little nap to beat the heat. I love youtube, I still do. Despite the hostile takeover of the internet by big tech and corporations, youtube still remains a treasure trove of gems, if you're willing to dig deep. Or if the algorithm gods are in your favour. India Cabaret: A Film By Mira Nair. Of course I had to watch it! With a runtime of 60 minutes, the documentary chronicles the lives of women cabaret dancers (“bar dancers”, as they came to be known as later) in Mumbai, assuming in the late 70s or early 80s (given the release of the documentary). But it also navigates larger themes of our social fabric such as the madonna-whore complex and questions what women’s roles in society and at home are.

The dancers/cast are extremely endearing. Their stories are sad but also full of hope. You’re rooting for them the entire time. The men (patrons and managers), for the most part, seem to be well aware of their own hypocrisies.

Of course nobody wants to be an adult entertainer. No girl grows up listing ‘stripper’ as their dream job. But circumstances have a big role to play. For some women, with the cards they’ve been dealt with, it’s all about survival.

I know people often have visceral reactions to the adult entertainment industry as it exists today. And I suppose they should. But a lot of the opinions come from us sitting in our ivory towers. India Cabaret is not a piece of fiction, it’s a reclamation of the narrative by the women themselves. They aren’t making a point. They’re not presenting themselves as victims (or perpetrators). They’ve simply allowed us a peak into their lives.

The gaze in the film is soft (and sexy). There is a scene where one of the dancers gyrates to Donna Summer’s ‘Love To Love You Baby’. As she strips and writhes around, you are in awe of how in control she is of her own sensuality and the hypnosis the patrons seem to be under. It’s a powerful moment. Controlling women’s sexuality and our bodies has been a key element of patriarchy. So what of the woman who has broken free of this shame? Is she to be revered or is she to be rejected? Are we disgusted by her or are we in awe of her?

Some of you may be too young to remember, but in the early 2000s, there was a crackdown on ‘dance bars’ in Mumbai. The reason given was that these places were fronts for prostitution. This ban resulted in many, many women finding themselves in sudden financial turmoil. Nobody would give them “respectable” jobs. And in a cruel twist of fate, many of the dancers were pushed into the sex trade industry. But dance bars still continue to exist around us. They aren’t found only in Mumbai. I remember going to a few in Kolkata because the booze was cheap and the rules were lax. The women were singers or dancers, the entertainment was relatively pg-13. They were not strippers, they were not prostitutes…just women doing what it takes to put food on the table and a roof over their heads. This film took me right back! There is also something very different about how women view women. Our sexuality is no longer performative and yet we're sexy. Our softness isn't mistaken for coyness. This is just who some of us are. Fierce in our femininity. We don't want flowers or brickbats. We just want to exist. Another scene that remains firmly etched in my mind is the bit where the three women are in a taxi, dreaming about their wedding. "I want chicken and alcohol", one of them says and they laugh at their own candour. Three women. Brazen, about their desire. Girlfriends on a journey together. ....desire and agency are buried so deeply in our society that women like Rekha or Rosy pose a threat to this charade of 'modesty' our culture is known for. Under brahmanical patriarchy, the responsibility of modesty and morality falls on the shoulders of us women. But what if we no longer want to play by their rules? What will they do to us, reject us? Well, in the golden words of Kurt Cobain, "you can't fire me cause I quit"...