And it wasn't either a very hush-hush affair. A board at the entrance exclaimed - ``sexy, adults play.''

Inside, it was just like any other weekend show - the rustle of pop-corn packets, mothers hushing up unruly kids and men switching off their mobiles.

But as the curtain rose, a new, parallel world emerged on the stage which was nothing of the sort you and I live in and perhaps not even one we would like to inhabit. It was a world of palangtod golis (aphrodisiacs) sexually overdriven girls chasing just about everyone who wasn't wearing a saree and prospective bridegrooms consulting prostitutes on marriage arrangements!There are two reasons why this correspondent would not like to discuss the storyline here - one, there was none and second, the audience did not seem to mind. So the play hurtled from one sexually explicit scene to another lewd joke.

Consider this scene: ``In the night, no control....'' the song plays in the background as two skimpily clad girls gyrate to the music. Then they fall over a man and simulate the sexual act, mercifully with their clothes on.

In another scene a young girl, a guest in a house, unwittingly consumes a palangtod goli and runs amock chasing her host and his servant. After much chasing around, the lights go off. The servant appears in the next scene suffering from bodyache.

Even as you reconcile to the fact that the play would be nothing but a string of similar scenes, the script surprises you with its crass dialogues.

A sample: A prospective bridegroom, in search of a large marriage hall, asks a prostitute ``whether her hall (pronounced as hole) can accommodate 200 men.'' Shereplies: ``No, it can take only the bridegroom!'' The reply drowns in the roar of laughter that the question evokes. The mobile-wielding, middle-aged man and his wife seem to love it.

If lewd questions are not being asked, the suggestive body movements of the characters keep the audience occupied. The servant of the house is constantly shaking his hand in an obscene manner. When he brings a glass of water, he is asked what the source of the ``water'' was.

The play's director-producer-actor Yogendra Konkar is convinced he's ``merely entertaining the audience...decent families come to watch the play,'' he says. His earlier project Saali Poori Gharwali with `Poori' written with an `overflowing bra' in place of two `Os' was a roaring success, which he considers as a certificate of social acceptability. Quite obviously, he is dismissive of the Cultural Ministry's protests over the bawdy script. ``Mere professional jealousy,'' he says with utter contempt.

When asked how directors like Konkar could have beenallowed to create a viewership for something which is so obviously X-rated, the scrutiny board president, Shantaram Nandgaonkar, says: ``The directors show a different and more acceptable version of their play to the board. Later, they improvise and insert objectionable dialogues and sequences.'' For instance, 81 cuts have been suggested in Konkar's earlier play Saali Poori Gharwali. Similar cuts were suggested in Parayee Nari....'' But the board's suggestions were obviously not followed. For instance, Konkar had assured he would exclude rape scenes. However, the promise was not fulfilled.

But then Konkar is only following a trend that was spawned by Marathi and Gujarati theatre. In the eighties there was a rich crop of plays like Vasana, Zhadap and Ghashiram Driver in Marathi theatre. More recently, one performance of the play Bhogdasi created a furore in Aurangabad.

Though advertisements of ``hit and hot'' Marathi plays have been less evident in this decade, the genre is far from dead. The latestaddition to the lewd fare is Janardan Lavangare's recently-suspended Bayako Peksha Mehuni Bari (Wife's sister is better than the wife). It is surprising that the play and its offensive title escaped the notice of the censor's office.

That leaves us with the question of whether the scrutiny board undertakes any surprise checks or not, especially since it is well aware of the tricks of the trade. The answer is a clear `no'. Nandgaonkar says they lack a permanent machinery for carrying out such checks. There are about 17 members on the board, spread out all over the state. The number is inadequate for the near-herculean task of monitoring live performances in different languages.

And most of the board members are known in the theatre circles. So no `surprise' checks are possible. Nandgaonkar claims he has urged the government to set up a permanent vigilance group.

But, until such time as a pressure group is set up, the board will wait for the likes of Navalkar to wake them up from their slumber. Andthis would happen only if Navalkar encounters a `western influence' and decides to protect Maharashtra from it - for instance rock music. For, then he would go on to ban some `swadeshi' stuff too to demonstrate balanced his approach to such issues.

(Sumedha Raikar-Mhatre is a reporter with The Indian Express)