`Conservative' Chennai falls prey to cabaret craze

`Conservative' Chennai falls prey to cabaret craze
D SURESH KUMAR

JAN 19: Shyamala (name changed on request) is a middle-class housewife from Chennai whose domestic life is not blissful. Her husband is a ``cabaret addict'' who spends most evenings and much of his income ogling at girls in sleazy dance joints.

Unable to bear the torment, she wrote a letter to the city police commissioner. Soon after he received the letter in the first week of January, Commissioner P Kalimuthu swung into action. Acting on his orders, policemen in mufti raided the joint and arrested the manager along with nine dancers.

Shyamala's husband is not the only one who gives sleepless nights to families. Hundreds of men lose most of their money by literally throwing away currency notes at young, hip-shaking dancers of Chennai's ``cabarets.''Most of the cabaret centres in supposedly conservative Chennai are located in congested areas like Mount Road, Chintadripet and Parry's Corner. The latest addition to the series, according to police sources, is a hotel in Egmore, which was the target of a bombattack by fundamentalists during a cabaret performance two years ago. These clubs spring to life when darkness envelops the rest of the city and run at least four shows of one-and-a-half hours duration each daily.

Inquiries reveal that to avoid the legal dragnet, these clubs obtain licenses by registering themselves as `cultural centres.' The clubs employ women, most of them alleged to be junior artistes from the Tamil film industry, on a monthly salary basis and keep changing them periodically. Besides, special shows are held on festivals.

A first-hand account of the entertainment that keeps men, including those well past their fifties, away from their family at unearthly hours, is quite revealing. At a centre near Wellington Plaza on Thiru Vi Ka Road off Anna Salai, a `watchman' greeted this correspondent and a colleague at the parking lot. With an understanding smile he pointed to the first floor of the building and said ``Please leave sirs. The show started just now.''

On reaching the entry point,a man sitting at the edge of the stairs handed over two coupons priced at Rs 150 each. An attendant standing next to him collected the coupons and ushered the customers inside a semi-packed hall with a capacity of 50 seats. A girl aged around 16 was already dancing to the beat of some ear-shattering music played live by an orchestra. One girl after another, between 14 to 21 years, entered the scene dressed in tight-fitting clothes to perform to titillating popular Hindi and Tamil film tunes.

At another cabaret hall, situated next to a popular cinema theatre on Anna Salai, a man opened the door on the first floor without asking any questions. Within minutes of our taking our seats, even as the dance was on, a man walked up with a bill for Rs 300. As the amount was handed over he asked for Rs 20 more towards ``service charges''. The girls, aged between 18 to 25 years, performed revealing dances. Some of them, who had applied `vibuthi' (holy ash) on their foreheads, could easily pass off as the girl next door.