Boy's Night Out

Right down Arthur Bunder Road at Colaba, Bombay, Voodoo is what one would call a regular joint, except on weekends when, as one frequenter puts it, "action swings the other way". It is probably the only place in the city that makes no pretence about its weekend sexual preferences—though they may not be in keeping with the majority's. Saturday night is openly acknowledged as the boys' night out. The pub is nondescript, but it makes up for it by its rather discreet activities. If you are not looking, you can overshoot the place for beyond the bewitching name, there are no other indications. The interiors are, mildly speaking, very interesting. Low lighting, grisly graffiti, coloured caricatures of witchdoctors abound. 

Quite literally, the writing is on the wall and everything, except explanations are entertained. An entire wall running alongside the bar is scrawled with semi-shockers in big, bold hand: This is the House of Sex. Another more explosively explicit: Squeeze me baby till my B**** run dry.... A full-sized poster of a male nude, face turned front-to-back, seems to indicate the passionate preferences to the uninitiated. The joint still serves up sizzlers, though with a variation.

Irani, who plays bossman, bartender and bouncer, asks amiably: "You know that it is for gays tonight? But you won't be disturbed," as he collects the cover charge of Rs 80 per head which entitles the customer to either a free softdrink or a beer. It is true, we are not. Heteros are not hot in this part of the world and on Saturdays are relegated to the upper of the two levels in Voodoo. This portion is largely populated by those wanting to strike a deal and willing to pay for it. They pick up their pegs, haggle over the price with the soliciting party and leave.

However, 10 pm onwards, it is on the dance floor at the lower level that a different dating game begins. Sweat-soaked bodies weave in and out of the flashing strobes. Faces are lost in the frenzy of heaving and panting to the music. Summertime, Baby, I Love Your Way, Here Comes The Hot -Steppa, I Love You More Than I Can Say, The Sign, Can't Touch This — the favourites featuring Bon Jovi and Bryan Adams to Ace of Base and Shaggy, and even to the desi Daler Mehndi. The beat never stops and the heat is on. 

Half-sleeved hunks, one-earringed elders, in formals, informals, form part of an astounding slice of life. Couples of the same sex who swoon over the soppy stuff; tenderfeet trying to find their way through the mass of manic movement; regulars doing the rounds that they are accustomed to; cutting through all kinds of attitude, attire and age and gyrating to the loud music in gay abandon.

Cheap? Only if you are looking into the menu card. The mocktails, routine stuff like Virgin Colada, Fruit Punch and Tom and Jerry, are priced at Rs 50; cocktails at Rs 75; beer by the glass is Rs 30 and by the pitcher Rs 120; beverages are anything between Rs 20 and Rs 30; a large peg of alcohol, Rs 90 while a small shot is Rs 60. The food averages Rs 25 to Rs 30 and comprises snacks to wash your whiskey down—vegetable manchurian, chicken tikka, masala onion rings, wafers, hamburgers, sandwiches and french fries.

But the food is best forgotten. For Voodoo compensates with a memorable experience.