Loved the Lavni!!

Absolutely and totally had the best time ever! It was one of the most entertaining three hours of my recent life, I can tell you that. There I was , sort of brain dead after an intense interview on how India was responding to the global recession, with Jan Ross, the foreign editor of DIE ZEIT, when boom! I rushed to the NCPA, pushed my way past the entire Maharashtra State cabinet and grabbed my seat in the second row ( first come, first served). I liked Jan a lot, since he 'understood' India. His first visit had been years ago as a 12 year-old boy, whose virgin trip abroad was to Mera Bharat Mahan to see the Taj Mahal!! " It was like a body blow," he said in retrospect, chuckling at the memory of that revelatory trip and the sight of the shabby shanties lining the route to Agra.. I didn't let him finish his chocolate cake since I was so worried about getting lousy seats. How often does one get to watch a Lavni in this part of Mumbai? Yes, I know the context is 'plastic' ( yoo hoo Abhay the Purist!), but it is still better than not watching it at all.
That's the good part...
Lavni is a particularly bawdy dance form from rural Maharashtra... and has been staging a quiet revival during the past few years , thanks to state patronage. The first troupe we got to see featured six pretty girls, but they were clad in ghastly, blingy nine yard sarees with far too much tinsel in their hair. Gone were the traditional 'lugdi' with woven aanchals ("padar' in Marathi). Instead, these buxom ladies wore Bollywood -style stiched sarees that were heavily embroidered and embellished with sequins. Help! That as disappointment number one. The repertoire was equally filmi, but nobody seemed to mind, going by the enthusiastic whistles that greeted their every 'jhatka'. The second and third troupes were infinitely better, even if the dancers were scrawnier and looked in urgent need of Vitamin B shots. Thank Vithoba, the lyrics were deliciously raunchy with all the wickedest double entendres that are so damn difficult to translate. How the hell can anyone convey the naughtiness of " Majhya ooosala lagal kohla ga...." Let me try - " A fox is about to attack my sugarcane." Make any sense?? Old girl Sulochana ( in her late seventies?) sang that live on stage to thunderous applause. As for the MLA's present... they had to be heard and seen, as they got up and boogied themselves while urging the dancers to flirt some more. The ladies happily obliged!! Great evening. I came home and devoured a jowar bhakri stuffed with green moong.... and yes, slathered with pure ghee. Bliss. There wasn't a fox in sight. The 'oooos' was safe! I slept well!!