ABSTRACT
From avenging amazons in leopard print leotards to wild jungle fantasies with stuffed tigers, violated men in cheap Halloween costumes to super heroes with questionable abilities, from lusty dismembered ghosts with insatiable appetites to draculas with styrofoam wings, the universe of the Bombay low budget film runs silent, runs deep. For years these films have travelled along the mofussil circuits, drawing committed audiences in single-screen theatres, a scandalous, disreputable and degraded cultural object.
