SITUATED, as everything seems to be in Dubai, inside a larger Hotel type thingy, Mehfil was the real eye-opener of one's all too brief stopover in the gulf Emirate.

Promised "the Real Dubai" by our knowing hosts who had first plied us with a wonderful meal at the Tour De France. What a radical turnabout was about to be experienced as all of a sudden the Piaf melodies turned into robust, pumping A.R.Rahman disco shudderers.

The entrance to this "desi Karaoke" bar didn't hint at the rumpus within. At the entrance was a charming hostess known simply as "Aunty". Once she recognized a friendly face she waved you in with a polite nod and a smile. She may have once been one of the movers at Mehfil but is now way past her prime - now overseeing the girls using all her experience in customer relations.

As one enters the arena the ears are assaulted by a medley of the latest Bollywood hits with the bass and rhythm enhanced by the overworked resident drummer pounding away on his electronic pride.

Once your eyes adjust to the smoke-filled atmosphere you notice that the 99% male audience are collectively wearing these semi-smile semi-drool expressions on their faces as they twitch to the tunes and watch the show that Mehfil is renowned for.

The show being a posse of young, nubile and very energetic dancers taking turns to twitch, writhe, bump and grind to the beats in the most sultry and fabulously lewd Bollywood style. The gyrations and thumka's reach fever pitch as the dirty old men in the audience slobber and drool at the confectionary on display.

It's such a gaudy and cheap scene and almost therapeutic and revitalizing in a cheap thrill sort of way. You feel deeply sorry for the girls who have to endure this kind of ogling, but then one remembers where they would have come from and what kinds of lives they would have had as an alternative.

Here, they are stars of the show, even if for a short rein until fresh blood is bought in from Bombay. For sleaze hounds Mehfil is an unmissable experience and now that we know what the "Real Dubai" consists of, we shall be returning for more!

Though later you realize that the moment may have been fun, but a pretty sight it was not. Fortunately we were simply too fatigued to be dragged to a place called "Kasbah" which our hosts promised would have provided a new level and depth of sleaze. Something to look forward to on the next trip, perhaps?