Like most big cities, Berlin is cold and lonely if you are not with friends. But unlike the rest, it’s easy to find one here.

It’s 11 P.M. on a Thursday night when I walk into a bar called Kleine Nachtrevue, close to Berlin’s iconic department store, KaDeWe. Only a few hours ago this street looked like an anthill on fire. Now it’s deserted, with only the blinking neon signs lending urban comfort. I am here to meet Nada Njiente - a veteran burlesque dancer whom I’d been in touch with over email for a while, and who has promised to let me into her intriguing world.

Kleine Nachtrevue is a time warp. I am in a 1940s burlesque-era bar - dark, dingy, with a smoke cloud hovering around the beautiful glass chandelier that gleams like a graceful lady who’s seen a lot. Much like Nada, who is sitting at the bar, smoking her Marlboro Lights and drinking whisky on the rocks. I recognize her by her short cropped blonde hair and the red lipstick that matches her little red cocktail dress. She recognizes me by my pseudo-vintage T-shirt - a complete misfit in a bar with people dressed for the occasion. We exchange greetings, and I get the barman, Bodo, to pour me a mug of Berliner Pilsner.

Nada tells me I just missed her show but there’s a lot more to come. Instantly, the bar plunges into darkness, and Bodo, who doubles as the lights engineer, beams the spotlight onto the stage. The curtains go up, revealing a beautiful, tall, pale girl - stark naked. For the next five minutes, she mimics a fashion shoot to a voiceover from a real one playing in the background. She plays out the scene - flirting with an imaginary photographer, fluttering her eyelashes, moving her shapely posterior seductively... before ending the show with a classic supermodel pose. The curtains go down, the people in the bar applaud, the lights come on, and Nada tells me her story.

Originally from a small town near Cologne, she moved to the countryside on the outskirts of Berlin back in the seventies to live in a commune. “It was the most liberating feeling. We lived together, smoked, experimented with things, tried to learn about life... but you can’t do that kind of thing forever.”

And so, a few years later, she moved to Berlin to get a “proper job” in a “proper office.” “Berlin was a city where I learned a lot about myself. I fell in and out of love. Broke my heart over several men, got back up again... a cycle.” And then she met “a gorgeous Bangladeshi man” who completely swept her off her feet. “He was a beautiful young boy and I was madly in love with him. I got pregnant and then things went downhill. Romance died, reality checked in. Little things began to trouble me like his messy habits, his bunch of unruly friends who would always be at home... it scared me when I thought of the possibility of doing this for the rest of my life, and so when he proposed marriage, I refused. He couldn’t take it because in his culture, a woman refusing a man’s proposal is perhaps unheard of.”

Nada gave birth to a girl, walked out of the relationship, and over the next few years took up cabaret dancing as an art form. Around this time, she checked out a live BDSM show where the Domina onstage invited people to join her. Nada was the first one to rush for the offer.

“It was a born-again moment for me. I figured that the reason I was constantly getting hurt in relationships was that I subconsciously loved that feeling. I thought I might as well start enjoying the pain - both emotionally and physically.” The Domina happened to be the owner of the Kit Kat Club - one of Berlin’s most outré underground joints - where entry is restricted to those with an attitude to match. Nada went on to become their star performer, doing acts that involved copulating with her partner while suspended midair. In some ways, the Kit Kat Club’s meteoric rise as Berlin’s most notorious nightclub, drawing people from around the world, owes a lot to Nada’s over-the-top erotic performances. Over the years, her career in eroticism reached new heights, with a slew of fetish-porn flicks and performances in more underground clubs.

The lights go out again, and this time a stunningly pretty girl with slightly Asian features performs a burlesque dance - slowly getting rid of the few clothes she has on. By the end of the show, she bares it all. Nada joins in the applause excitedly, turns to me, and says, “That’s my daughter!”

My Indian middle-class sensibilities are rattled, but I manage to admit that she’s breathtaking. I steer the conversation back to Kit Kat. “I don’t perform there anymore. I have some logistical issues with them. Artists need to be treated a certain way, and I think I’ve worked hard to be where I am and could do with some respect.” Nada nods to her daughter, who is by now behind the bar counter, all demure and dressed up. She pours her a Jim Beam. “Her name is Emiko - meaning a kid graced with beauty.” I couldn’t agree more. Does she like what she’s doing? “I don’t think this is what she wants to do for the rest of her life. For now, she’s doing it for the money. But what she really wants is to study international relations at a good university.” Emiko agrees with a million-euro smile as she gets me another chilled Berliner Pilsner. The lights go down again, and this time Bodo does a rendition of Germany’s Frank Sinatra - the actor, comedian, and entertainer Harald Juhnke. The poem is about eating the rich, and Bodo ends his act with a song called Mein Hund ist schwul which literally translates to “My dog is gay.”

The song, originally composed by German acappella band - Die Prinzen, is a hit, and even Emiko, who was only smiling so far, is singing along.
A couple next to me starts getting a bit more than cozy. The edges dissolve. Skin, music, smoke, desire, drink - none of it announces itself anymore. The world outside suddenly seems unbearably normal and uninspiring. And for a moment I try hard to reconcile myself to that fact.
Emiko, who will soon leave this city to pursue a career in international relations in the outside world, pours me another drink. The lights go out again. And Berlin embraces me with its welcoming darkness.