The party had begun in the check-in area itself. About 25 boisterous middle-aged men in high spirits and booming voices held the floor, much to the amusement, and in some cases, disgust, of the other passengers. The effortless way in which 'maa' and 'behen' were weaved into every sentence suggested that the assemblage was largely North Indian. A good time was being had by them.
It was 11pm and we were at the Thai Airways check-in counter at Delhi airport to take the flight to Bangkok.
The airline staff (young girls mostly) tried their best to bring some order to the proceedings but in vain. Ogling was, of course, to be expected. Thankfully, it didn't graduate to groping though several lascivious faces did betray what was on their minds. Crotch itches had afflicted many of them and they unabashedly went about scratching.
This could have been a pub in Liverpool during the Merseyside derby... We all feared that the captain would turn the aircraft around.
The cavalcade checked in and moved as one to immigration, where they quietened down. Thence, onwards to the departure lounge, where the party began with renewed vigour. Inside the aircraft, the contingent sat in the back rows, more raucous than ever. The announcements went unheard by the passengers and entreaties by the cabin crew to quieten down went in vain.
The dinner service started. There were howls of protest when they were told that the liquor service would only commence after dinner. There were even louder protests when they were served 'Hindu' meals - vegetarian fare. The only non-vegetarian option was Thai cuisine which they all derisively refused. But the maximum din was created when they were only served one peg each.
Then the Indian 'jugaad' took over. Out came the duty-free hooch bought at Delhi airport. The carousing went on till the last drop. This could have been a pub in Liverpool during the Merseyside derby. The lavatories looked like a war zone. We all feared that the captain would turn the aircraft around. But apparently, the airline was used to such behaviour. The crowd was just reprising what was a quotidian event this time of the year.
They were all sales persons being rewarded by a trip to Thailand for meeting their targets. From all across the country, medical representatives, dealers, salesmen, were heading to Thailand - to Bangkok, Pattaya and Phuket. These worthies were not interested in pad Thai or tom yum soup; they were not interested in the floating market or the Buddhist temples; they were not interested in the river cruise or the Erawan Shrine. They were only interested in the massage - the massage with a happy ending!
Many parlours, besides local talent, have also started employing Russian ladies. This has doubled the pleasure of our Indian brothers.
Bangkok, particularly the Sukhumvit area, is littered with massage parlours of all makes and sizes. They cater to every age group, income bracket, quirk, orientation - you name it. You have gangways with parlours on either side, giggly girls in tops and skirts sitting outside and beseeching the seeker to step inside. You have more upscale parlours - better-appointed rooms with more attractive masseuses. You have home delivery. You can have hotel delivery and the concierge will be very happy to oblige. The menu card is extensive - Happy Ending ( the most popular with every Indian and a must do on their check-list; what it means I leave to your imagination) , Rub & Tug, Sensual, Erotic, Nuru, Tantric, Japanese, Bondage, Rape Play, Hot Wax, Blindfold, Face-Sitting, Body Worship, Cross-Dressing, 4 Hand ( 2 girls massaging ), Lady Boy... the list goes on and on. The Thais have perfected the art and tourists from the Indian subcontinent (yes, our neighbours too share our obsession in this area) are eternally grateful for that. They can't seem to get enough of it.
Many parlours, besides local talent, have also started employing Russian ladies. This has doubled the pleasure of our Indian brothers. What better way to spend a holiday than getting an oil massage by a Caucasian female in her mid-20s from the Russian heartland?
If you are blind and cannot or will not see the mushrooming parlours dotting the area, not to worry. There are touts - a pretty persistent lot - who will ensure the message gets through. Walking down the streets, one has to run the gauntlet of this aggressive breed touting parlours, restaurants, bars and live shows.
Ah yes, the live shows! Ping Pong , Balloon, Banana , Catfish, Frog, Birds... a long, long list which can easily overwhelm any horny tyre dealer.
Ah yes, the live shows! Another popular item on the itinerary of every Indian. They pack the place to the rafters and contribute significantly to the bottom-line of these purveyors of skin. Often, their enthusiasm gets the better of them when they forget they are only voyeurs, not participants. But with booze swirling inside, testosterone running wild, music with irresistible beats, the lines get blurred and they end up on the wrong side of the bouncers.
Not that they can be blamed entirely. The sheer list of the shows on offer will drive most men round the bend - Ping Pong , Balloon, Banana , Catfish, Frog, Birds, Knitting, Blade, Writing, Fire, Egg, Flower, Birthday, Smoking, Bottle, Candle, Needle, Rubber, Chinese, Chopsticks, Mouse, Magic, Turtle, Swamp Eel ( goodness gracious me, what will they think of next?), Whistle, Shower, Lesbian, F... Again, a long, long list which can easily overwhelm any horny tyre dealer.
The Nana District, the naughty area, throngs with Indians. Reminds one of a Sunday afternoon at the International Trade Fair in New Delhi. They populate every nook and cranny. It's Little India. Ok, maybe I am exaggerating a bit but you catch the drift.
Many instances have been reported of Indians getting scammed in their unquenchable thirst for the prurient. Because of complete distrust in the credibility of the hotel locker, many carry all their cash on their person. Pattaya has reported incidents of the 'under the bed' massage scam where a person lies under the bed, unbeknownst to the unsuspecting pleasure-seeker on the bed, and empties the pockets of the trousers lying on the floor.
The Nana District, the naughty area, throngs with Indians. Reminds one of a Sunday afternoon at the International Trade Fair in New Delhi.
Though these diversions are available 24 x7, the human body has its limitations. Plus, local tourism needs to be done to send photographs home. It's a formality that needs to be gone through, however irksome it may be. But come evening and it's back to action.
The scene repeats itself in other Thai cities as well. Bangla Street in Phuket is the hotbed. Simply unbelievable! This is the mother of all sin cities. The dealer season doesn't last all the year. In the winter, the families take over. Things become more sedate, but not too much. Men do slip out while the wives shop. And the live shows are watched by couples who really seem to have evolved over the years. Women take as much pleasure in the goings-on as men.
Proximity to India, cheap tickets ( its more economical to fly to Bangkok than Trivandrum from Delhi) , superb connectivity, salubrious climate, rice and curry-centric food, rock-bottom cost of living, shopping paradise , but above all, every carnal pleasure for the straight, queer and the deviant , Thailand will always be the numero uno destination for Indians.
During our trip to Thailand, we ventured only for foot massages. However, on our last day we said, "What the hell; let's get a full body massage."
During our trip to Thailand, we ventured only for foot massages. However, on our last day we said, "What the hell; let's get a full body massage." We asked our hotel for a superior and respectable massage parlour and were directed to a tony establishment close by. We got adjacent cabins with a curtain in between. Good rooms, air-conditioned and clean. I wasn't asked to remove my underwear, nor given a fig leaf of a towel to cover myself. Assured that all was well, and thanks to a very relaxing massage, I was soon snoring gently. I got up with a start when I felt a knocking on my heaven's door. Passing it off as an inadvertent touch, I dozed off again, only to be woken up with another knocking - this time more insistent. The masseuse looked at me, looked down at it, and arched her eyebrows. "No, thank you," I blurted and immediately opened the curtains to my wife's cabin.
She was very amused. "Try it," she urged. "You must be insane," I countered but she just laughed. The massage got over soon thereafter. Our Thai was limited to 'Sawasdee krab' (hello, how are you?) so we could not understand what my masseuse was telling her co-workers as we paid the bill. But whatever she said had them in splits as we stepped out!
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