Masturbation lane, Chennai

Where are we?

Since we cannot communicate with the people of this part of Chennai, we have a lot of questions about what all of this actually means. Let us tell you the story...

We needed a break. We were going on the train all the way from the north of India (Varanasi) to the very south (Trivandrum). So we thought, "Let's make a stop, have some rest, chill out for a bit..." and so it went. Chennai seemed a good place to take that break. As normal people do, we looked online for a normal guesthouse, and we thought we found one, normal-looking, maybe a bit too good to be true regarding the cleanliness on the pictures, but you know, we thought... India, you know, it'll be what it is.

So off the train we came and into an auto-rickshaw we went. The driver couldn't really place the address, but after some help, he managed to get us there. The guesthouse was located in a small lane, filled with other guesthouses, little eateries and coffee shops, and several internet-places.

We found a room, we checked in, we went out for coffee and food. We were happy. At night we went out, we found beer and western food, and had a bizarrely strange evening. In the midst of poverty and leprosy there is a thriving community of a westernised, modern, polished young crowd, who seemed miles away from what the streets below the fancy restaurant displayed. One of us almost jumped in a cab after being invited to an afterparty at a well built Indian man's house but in the last moment that potentially very bad move was avoided.

We got home late at night and thought there was a power cut, so went to sleep in the dark. We found out the next day that someone had cut the power in our room. Our room only. The rest of the hotel had electricity. The men in the reception stared blankly at us when we tried to understand why our power had been cut. We got no response and no apology.

The next morning, after a perfectly normal India experience of being attacked by a monkey and ripped off by a beggar, the even stranger reality of Masturbation lane started to hit us in the face.

What we had not really had time to discover before was the fact that the whole lane was frequented by men, and men exclusively.

We also realised that hotel was used by men, and men exclusively. The restaurants, men. The coffee shops, men. And the internet cafes: you got it. Men, men, and more men.

We were the only westerners there. All the hotels were being used by Indian men only.

It was slightly funny at first. Ha ha, funny, look at all these men. Then the funny feeling became "funny" as in "strange." What is happening here? What's up with all the men?!

The internet cafes had tiny little windowless booths enclosing each computer, with proper doors that were lockable.The web menu, if scrolled down, revealed sites such as "" What do all these men do? All together in a lane full of hotels and eateries and internet cafes and coffee shops?

We finally understood. They masturbate! They come here for masturbation holidays!

One might think that the presence of two western women would maybe inspire the masturbation process, but nope. They completely ignored us, and if they did look, it was with childish curiosity, nothing else. One crowd of boys walked past us yesterday, and one of them broke free, and started running toward us; but his masturbation friends pulled him back into his gang and he was saved back into the masturbation world. The staff at the masturbation guesthouse did not reply to our good mornings and hellos, so we gave up on even trying and we now walk past them without them even raising their eyes. We disturb the masturbation peace. Masturbation lane has been invaded by two western women and the energy is now destroyed. They tried getting rid of us by cutting our electricity, but we remained. They hate us.

We are certain that the inspiration to masturbate together in Masturbation lane will come back one day, but only once those two invading western girls are long, long gone.

We are so, so sorry, and we do indeed send our most heartfelt apologies to all the men of Masturbation Lane.



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