Kama @ Sutra (Part 2)
Helen was followed by Madhuri-ji in her prime, her existential torment bared in a folksy dance number (Choli Ke Peeche Kya Hai?) Another desi drag queen, fake breasts jiggling in a choli-for-minimalists, sashayed onto the stage. The original Madhuri video was not shown on screen this time – I suppose the attraction of the former would have superseded the shock value of the gender bender.
Two thug-like paunchy uncle-jis slithered behind her, reluctant women in a reverse gender bender. They were carrying fake dollar bills, blown to twice their size and photocopied on one side only (to avoid confusing the audience I suppose). As the song continued, the raunchy men snickered, walked drunkenly and did shady-cheapo stuff that raunchy men generally do when they ask raunchy women existential questions pertaining to articles of clothing.
They then proceeded to take the aforementioned fake dollar bills and insert them in the aforementioned fake choli. This obvious display of selfless charity unleashed a surge of compassion amongst the audience. Before you could say “Choli Mein Dil Hai Mera”, scores of people were falling over themselves trying to give the Madhuri-drag-queen their hard earned money. Dollar bills (real ones, mind you) were being inserted in every opening of the folk dancer’s costume.
One audience member even popped a quid or two into the raunchy-paunchy uncle’s fat pocket. Another decided to dance with Ms. Dixit on the floor, putting uncleji’s entire performance to shame in his 15 seconds of glory.
The organizers were quite astute, actually. One more ‘item number’, and people would have realize that they were being gypped – that they paid good money to see pretty boys in costumes, and were instead being subjected to not-so-pretty boys in er… costumes. So they brought out the Real McCoy – professional drag queens – men who did this for a living. After all, this is Midtown dear!
These gorgeous (wo)men had great legs, impeccable makeup, appropriately garish vaudeville costumes, catchy non-Bollywood music and a professional routine. Unfortunately, the crowd was still in a Madhuri-induced choli stupor. They continued their dollar handouts to the confused anglos (and philipino).
Now, Vaudeville is unaccustomed to such magnanimous audiences, so its costumes do not permit easy note access. Junta improvised anyhow – notes were flying in the air and falling onto the stage, amidst wah-wahs by the culturally awed. The unfluttered queens completed their performance, and stepped off the stage, dollar bills strewn unclaimed on the stage floor. Hassled organizers collected the bills and ran backstage after each performance.
Two thug-like paunchy uncle-jis slithered behind her, reluctant women in a reverse gender bender. They were carrying fake dollar bills, blown to twice their size and photocopied on one side only (to avoid confusing the audience I suppose). As the song continued, the raunchy men snickered, walked drunkenly and did shady-cheapo stuff that raunchy men generally do when they ask raunchy women existential questions pertaining to articles of clothing.
They then proceeded to take the aforementioned fake dollar bills and insert them in the aforementioned fake choli. This obvious display of selfless charity unleashed a surge of compassion amongst the audience. Before you could say “Choli Mein Dil Hai Mera”, scores of people were falling over themselves trying to give the Madhuri-drag-queen their hard earned money. Dollar bills (real ones, mind you) were being inserted in every opening of the folk dancer’s costume.
One audience member even popped a quid or two into the raunchy-paunchy uncle’s fat pocket. Another decided to dance with Ms. Dixit on the floor, putting uncleji’s entire performance to shame in his 15 seconds of glory.
The organizers were quite astute, actually. One more ‘item number’, and people would have realize that they were being gypped – that they paid good money to see pretty boys in costumes, and were instead being subjected to not-so-pretty boys in er… costumes. So they brought out the Real McCoy – professional drag queens – men who did this for a living. After all, this is Midtown dear!
These gorgeous (wo)men had great legs, impeccable makeup, appropriately garish vaudeville costumes, catchy non-Bollywood music and a professional routine. Unfortunately, the crowd was still in a Madhuri-induced choli stupor. They continued their dollar handouts to the confused anglos (and philipino).
Now, Vaudeville is unaccustomed to such magnanimous audiences, so its costumes do not permit easy note access. Junta improvised anyhow – notes were flying in the air and falling onto the stage, amidst wah-wahs by the culturally awed. The unfluttered queens completed their performance, and stepped off the stage, dollar bills strewn unclaimed on the stage floor. Hassled organizers collected the bills and ran backstage after each performance.
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