Fifteen minutes later, receiving the psi's mobile cue, a 55-strong police posse swooped on the revellers even as the five hired female dancers prepared to go on stage. Their act was just a run-up to the promised 'sex act' by gawdily-dressed eunuchs waiting in the wings. The raiding party, an unwelcome dampener to the men raring to strip the women dancers, set off absolute panic. But all exit points had been neatly plugged. In fact, the cops had come with extra buses to cart away the arrested truants, not all caught quite in flagrante delicto, but well en route.
But the mortification of this 150-odd crowd, says Rakesh Maria, additional commissioner of police (Mumbai northwest), was shortlived. For, when the guilty lot was produced before court, their offence, despite being spelled out in three Acts, was bailable. Each reveller, poorer by Rs 950, was set free after a mere 10 hours. But the police, having expended so much energy and manpower, intends to keep track. 'Eighty per cent was in the 18-30 age group. There was even a 60-year-old man, several married men. We intend to call the parents of young offenders, lecture them,' vows Maria. While the parents will be rapped on the knuckles for letting kids run wild, the married men will be saved from divorces only this time round. If caught next time, their spouses will be informed of their 'nefarious activities'.
The police intends to push its case, though weakened by a clause in Section 294 (ipc), which objects to all obscene acts only as long as they cause 'annoyance to others'. The police has long urged this loophole to be removed; now they plan to convince the judge that the debauchery did offend the three police personnel sneaked into the 'White Party'. The debauchers could then be sentenced to three-month imprisonment or charged a fine, or both.
Strangely, the city's normally vociferous moral police has been silent over this busted saturnalia. The scent of affluence seems to have kept them from sniffing in disgust. Pramod Navalkar, Sena minister, weakly suggested the police publicise the names. The police list shows most kids to be from a posh south Mumbai area. A majority of the grown-ups were from the TV industry, possibly because the Patilwadi bungalow (off Marve Beach in the suburbs and where the party took place) owned by the Misquitta family (also booked) was usually hired out for film and TV shoots. The list includes two women artistes working on prominent TV channels, a TV serial producer, a model, fashion designers, even a school teacher, and some from the airline industry. Raman Kumar, TV producer, however, believes the artistes from the TV industry are probably 'not top-of-the-line' ones.
The police, which had been tipped off three days earlier, paid marked currency notes for its impersonators. The Rs 600 entry pass, decorated by an arched male nude, specified 'white-light' dress code, put out an elaborate map for private vehicles (50 were parked along the waterfront), and even gave pick-up and drop-off points for those who wanted to bus it. And folly of follies,also printed was the mobile number of the organisers,Ajay and Nimeeta Shah and Sham Goenka. The 10 pm party was expected to wind up at 5 am. It started off with fireworks, warm-up wisecracks from an elaborate stage set over a dry pond in the split-level, almost two-acre garden. Heavy metal blared, laser lights blazed and booze flowed. A stock of condoms was kept ready at hand. But it wasn't to be.
The police had recced the place earlier. Five teams were set up, with only the heads informed of the mission. Even the local police had no inkling. While the team heads synchronised their watches they kept in touch (over mobiles) with the three impersonators who were told to signal only when their sense of decency was sufficiently offended.
Rave parties, says one party animal, are normally small; the invites usually by word-of-mouth. They're frequented not by mainstream party-hoppers but wannabes for whom acceptability is cheap at Rs 600 to Rs 1,000. Though no drugs were found here, a rave usually has cokers, hashers and dopers. The 'plastic' high (rather expensive with a coke vial at Rs 4,000), along with the heavy metal beat, help shed all inhibition, along with the clothes. There's no one to look over your shoulder in the beachfront bungalows; parents assume their kids love picnicking along the beaches. But private raves happen all the time. The moral, however: Rant or rave, but don't put a map on your entry pass next time. It could bring a police patrol.
