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What's on your mind?


Zzebrain writes:


WHEN I recently saw a beggar woman masturbating on a busy Mumbai street, I was reminded of swashbuckling Hollywood star Errol Flynn. The woman was obviously mad; there was the light of madness on her face. She lay on her back on the pavement under the shade of a bus stop near the British Council library at Nariman Point. Her hand wriggled under her salwar. The time was about 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

Since I am a professional observer of Mumbai's street life and walk around in search of stories, I stopped to see what the woman was up to. Her face made several kinds of grimaces and then lit up with ecstasy. Her smile showed all her deformed teeth. Then she went to sleep. I moved on.

Mumbai's street sex life has intrigued me. At night pavements are filled with sleeping families. There's the husband, the wife, and several children, all stretched out on mats or bedsheets. These family groups line up to form pavement chawls, or tenements. The pavement is their bedroom, kitchen, drawing room, and toilet. It's a four-in-one housing scheme, and does not require a bank loan.

Since there is complete absence of privacy because Mumbai has a 24x7 lifestyle, how do the couples manage to have sex? Are they compelled to convert it into a public affair as with the other aspects of their life? Is there neighbourhood gossip and sniggers about abilities and disabilities? The lack of privacy surely prevents the practice of subtle variations of Vatsyayana's Kama Sutra. Sex must be an elementary input-output process. It is possible, though, that the pavement couples have made innovations that have yet to get into sex pamphlets and books.

Then there are the children. Do the older children pretend to be asleep, but watch the proceedings with one eye? Most children are more informed about sex than their parents suspect. In my childhood village days, we boys would walk around at night and peep through the wooden window-slats into the bedrooms of new couples and make academic studies. The next day, when the man or woman, walked by we shouted advice at them and made them blush. Grandmothers enjoyed these encounters and giggled approvingly.

Pavement sex deserves more attention from social activists. Their work could provoke public sympathy and lead to the construction of Kamalayas for pavement couples, just as Shauchalayas have provided a convenience. They could provide guidance on sex sophistication, sex hygiene, condoms and pills, etc. Imagine a pavement couple having a bath, scenting themselves, and then making love to the rhythm of soft music. The Kamalayas could evolve into variations of the public baths in ancient Rome , and get into future history books.

At the other end of the income scale, there is often show-off public sex on beaches, in parks, on hilltops, under the sea, in Earth orbit. It's an aspect of an assumed or real celebrity lifestyle. The affairs are public, and sometimes even photographs are made available to the media and on the Internet. It would seem that at the extreme ends of the income scale, sex is a public affair.

Which is why the beggar woman on the pavement reminded me of Errol Flynn. He was a hero of romantic action films. He had lots of affairs and three marriages. He was also generous. After a divorce he gave everything he had to the ex-wife and started afresh.

But he was rumoured to have had a weird sense of humour in matters of sex. I read in a book about him that the ceiling above his bed was made of a huge mirror. His female partners did not know that it was a two-way mirror. On the floor above the bedroom would be Errol's partying friends who looked down through the mirror on the love-making couple and had a good laugh. This is upper class pavement sex. Not very different from the masturbating beggar woman and me looking down on her.