Fiction: The dangerous Goa casinos where the famous and dreamers chase quick fortunes

Ruby was not her real name. She was named Arthit when she was born, a male child raised by a single mother in a small village on the outskirts of Chiang Mai in North Thailand. She had never known her father. Some said that the lack of paternal influence along with overwhelming maternal love had made her effeminate from an early age. But Arthit had always known who she was: a woman trapped in a man’s body. Her mind and heart had never been at peace with her male form. She was only four years old when she began to express herself. By the age of seven, she had grown her hair and was stealing makeup from her mother’s vanity box. It was clear to her mother where her heart lay. Arthit showed early signs of becoming a kathoey, an effeminate gay male, or in popular parlance, a “Ladyboy”.

By the age of twelve, she had grown into a fine, young, beautiful girl, devoid of breasts, with a tall, petite frame, and a pretty face. She was not only accustomed to compliments about her beauty from the womenfolk in the village, but also drew the attention of the opposite sex. With the onset of puberty, she began to see boys in a different light. It excited her to see them by the pond in their underwear and enjoyed hugging them whenever she could. By the age of fifteen, she realised that she could no longer blindly follow her instincts. The gap between what she desired and what she had was expanding. She needed guidance in the ways of the kathoey – an elder sister, a mentor. She approached an older kathoey from school and requested her to become her elder sister. Thus began a relationship of trust and reverence that guided her through the most formative years of her life.

Amongst the first things she learnt to do was to take oestrogen-based hormones, which, amongst other changes, facilitated the development of breasts. This was followed by a change in the way she dressed, her hairstyle, shoes and makeup. Then came the question of her name. “What would you like to call yourself?” “Ruby.” “Why Ruby? That isn’t a Thai name.” Ever since childhood, Arthit had admired the ruby ring worn by her mother. It was the only valuable item in her possession. “It is the only object of beauty that I have ever known.” And thus, Ruby was born.

After completing school, Ruby left for Chiang Mai to explore employment opportunities. She found to her dismay that people in the big city were less accepting of kathoeys. Jobs were difficult to come by and the ones that did come her way were all temporary. After spending a little over two years doing temporary jobs that did little good for her ego or wallet, Ruby decided to travel to Bangkok in search of greener pastures. Her mother did not approve. She knew only too well what happened to young girls coerced to migrate to the megacity. But Ruby was able to convince her, arguing that she wasn’t migrating under coercion, that she was educated enough to make informed decisions, that as soon as she found a good job, she would start sending money home. But luck seldom obliges the poor and needy.

After walking all over the city in search of work for over a month, all she could find was the job of a waitress at a café. The money was barely enough for her to survive, let alone save and send back home. But the job provided her with a footing in the city till something better came along. Then a chance conversation with another waitress sent her exploring to Patpong, a tourist hotbed in Bangkok. Whilst most of the establishments were Go-Go Bars selling sex, there were a select few that were merely watering holes for the thirsty traveller. The owner at one of these bars took a liking to her. He could see potential and offered her a job as a waitress with special duties. “All you have to do is chat with the customers and sell them drinks,” he told her. “That’s all?” She was suspicious. “No sex?” she asked, blurting out what was playing on her mind. “No,” he replied. “We don’t sell sex. If a customer wants to take you out, that’s between you and him. He will have to pay us, of course.” “What do I get for this?” she asked. “A small retainer for your loyalty to this bar, and a cut on the drinks you sell.” That sounded fair. In any case, selling drinks was more interesting than selling coffee. She resigned from the café that night and moved to Patpong, chatting up customers and selling drinks.

Drinks is all she sold for two months. But, like many well-intentioned girls from poor families, temptation, which was always lurking in the shadows, seduced her soon enough. Prostitution was a way of life in Patpong, a norm among the people who worked and lived there. Being surrounded by such an environment numbed a person to the stigma associated with it. She had seen many of her colleagues go on night-outs and return in the morning looking no worse off, with money in their pockets. After deliberating for days on end, she finally agreed to go on a night out with an American, a frequent customer of the bar who had taken a liking to her.

While dining at an expensive restaurant that evening, she told him that she was a kathoey. The disappointment was clearly visible on his face. He didn’t allow it to come in the way of the dinner; but the dinner was not followed by a visit to his hotel. Ideally, she should have been happy; she had managed to earn good money without selling her body. Instead, she had mixed feelings about the evening. It was clear that the hotel visit didn’t happen because she was a kathoey. So when a few days later the American invited her again for an expensive dinner followed by a visit to a fancy hotel, she was thrilled. She returned home the next morning with 3000 Baht in her pocket and a set of new clothes, the burden of morality no longer pressing on her shoulders. Such was the fate of many poor women who came to Bangkok in search of a living. Soon, her mother started getting regular instalments of money. She was pleased with the support that her daughter provided and didn’t ask uncomfortable questions.

A year later, Ruby threw away whatever little was left of her morality and moved to a popular Go-Go Bar at Soi Cowboy. One night, while she was pole dancing to a raunchy number, her vivacious body gyrating seductively to the music, her eyes full of life and an enticing smile on her face, Jayesh spotted her. She didn’t like him at first. Indian men were generally aggressive and uncouth, haggling over every penny. When you thought that the deal had been struck, they haggled on the goods on offer. “I want you twice in that much money,” was a common ask. But, Jayesh made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. “Food, lodging and 50,000 Baht per month retainer. Whatever you earn on top is yours to keep.” Fifty thousand Baht! Had she heard him right, or was God playing games with her like he had all her life? This could help her fulfil her deepest desire, to become a proper woman. The final frontier to becoming a woman was a surgery involving the realignment of genitalia. This was Mount Everest for kathoeys, the ultimate life goal vehemently desired; and there was a clear divide in the community between the “haves” and the “have-nots”.

With this kind of money, she could save enough to get the surgery done within two years…

She was still dreaming about her body when she heard Jayesh say, “Is the offer acceptable to you?” She wondered for a moment whether she should tell him the truth about her gender identity before accepting the offer. But what if he changed his mind? Such an opportunity had never come her way before. 50,000 Baht a month was too big a sum to fuck around with. Besides, working in a casino would be a whole new experience. “Yes”, she said, her eyes shining. “Thank you”.

Excerpted with permission from The Goa Gambit, Anurag Tripathi, Olive Turtle.