- From Part I of India - Cross-Cultural Business Behavior: For Business People, Expatriates and Scholars, ,
an anecdote by Richard R. Gesteland:

The Cages of Bombay (Mumbai)

Early in our first India assignment my boss sent me an urgent warning: "I've just learned that another Chicago company has been sued by the wife of an executive who contracted a venereal disease while on a business trip in Southeast Asia. We don't want any of our guys getting sick, so you will keep all of our visitors out of Indian brothels, period. Do I make myself clear?"

This would be a challenge. I was 32 years old, while our business visitors from the United States and Canada were 10 or 15 years older. How was I supposed to handle the inevitable question from some of them: "So, where are the girls?"

But sometimes challenges bring opportunity. I wanted my wife, Hopi, to join me at business dinners whenever possible to give us some time together. Although she enjoyed dining and dancing she often pleaded fatigue – reasonable enough considering the enormous stress of handling the kids virtually as a single parent. But now I could tell her that I really did need her with me when we entertained visitors. With Hopi at the dinner table and on the dance floor, no visitor would ever ask me such a question.

So from then on Hopi regularly joined me for these evenings, usually at the Oberoi Intercontinental where we had stayed while house hunting. After a while the house orchestra knew us so well they would stop whatever they were playing when we entered the restaurant and strike up the song we especially liked to dance to.

Having Hopi at my side worked just fine when visitors came to Delhi. But sometimes I had to meet buyers in Bombay (now Mumbai). Shortly after receiving that warning from my boss I met a senior manager at Bombay airport and brought him to the Taj Mahal Hotel. This guy I'll call Fred didn't wait long to bring up my least favorite topic. Having reached Bombay fresh from the flesh pots of Taipei and Bangkok he wanted more of the same. Shortly after getting into the taxi he demanded:"Show me the girls!" I tried to deflect him, but without success.

So while he was in his hotel room freshening up I wracked my brain for another way to change his mind. By the time he came down to the lobby I had figured out a solution. I led him out to the waiting taxi and told the driver to take us to Cumberland Road. This was the city's most notorious red light district, known locally as "The Cages."

"Hanji sahib," the driver said with a grin. Ten minutes later our taxi slowly entered a very narrow street lined on both sides by wire cages one meter wide and two meters high. In each cage stood a girl or woman in rags, many of whom were obviously ravaged by sexually transmitted diseases. It did not take long. After less than 50 meters Fred turned very pale and said,"Take me back to the hotel right now!" He probably spread the word because no other visitor to Bombay ever raised the issue with me again.