Deepa Parab and the all-female bouncer group: From providing security to claiming public space
On a sultry afternoon in Pune, Deepa Deepak Parab, founder of the Ranragini Lady Bouncer Group, stands in front of a crowded political rally, where her black “Security” T-shirt hints at the power she commands: over 700 bouncers across the city. Parab, once a make-up artist and film extra in Bombay, experienced a turnaround in life when she decided to become a bouncer in 2016 after her parents forced her to drop out of police training. “Many questioned my decisions and said that this job was not meant for women. But I made up my mind. It started with only five women turning up in saris for unpaid gigs,” Parab said.
Feminist urban theory often refers to the directly into the city and not only to live in a city, but also to design and inhabit it public spaces free. For many Indian women, nightlife has long been a contested terrain due to surveillance, fear and self-censorship.
Deepa Parab’s long journey: dreams are dashed
For as long as she can remember, Parab has wanted to wear a uniform. “I wanted to be a police officer,” she says. “I had reported myself to the police and was undergoing training without my parents’ knowledge. When they found out, they tore up my books. My family’s mindset was very conservative and they felt there was a girl at home inside,” Parab said.
Image: Deepa Deepak Parab, Ranragini Lady Security Services
The disappointment remains even now. “My studies were less, but my dreams weren’t,” she says with a little laugh. After Parab was forced to abandon her education, she turned to any work that came her way. She later married at the age of 27 and put her own ambitions on hold. It was only after the death of her in-laws in 2015 that she decided to reclaim a piece of her old self. “I told my husband I have fulfilled all my duties. Now I want to try something new.”
This desire led her to Mumbai and unexpectedly into the film industry. Parab worked as a makeup artist and extra in Marathi films. “Once I got to play a police officer; I was so happy that day,” she says. On the film set, she first noticed men in black T-shirts: tall, stoic men who controlled the crowd with a word or a gesture. “They would protect the celebrities just like the police and people would listen to them,” she remembers. “I thought it was too late to be a police officer, but I can still be a bouncer,” she was initially dismissed by people. “Even today people think that women are weak, but strength is not only in the body but also in the mind,” she said. When she returned to Pune, she started training herself and other women too. “If you want to be a bouncer, you need strong arms and legs. Only then can you hold your own in a crowd or protect someone else,” Parab said.
What started with five women in saris eventually grew into a group of over 700 people Ranragini Lady Security Services Providing a disciplined and determined crew of all women to occupy public spaces traditionally controlled by men. The demand for female bouncers has grown steadily, particularly at weddings, VIP security services and private celebrations.
Parab’s journey began with five women in saris turning up for unpaid gigs and learning the job on the spot. “When I started, there were only two women bouncers in Pune. The rest were called ‘security guards’: women who lacked the build, height and composure to provide real security,” she says. The biggest hurdle she faced during her training was convincing women to enter a male-dominated field. “There were so many questions: If we wear this, what will our families say? After the events, there is no time, no buses, I don’t know how to drive a car, etc.,” Parab said. She suggested cream-colored saris as a pragmatic and symbolic solution. “Little by little, I made the team wear saris.”
The first events were religious gatherings where Parab’s team was able to observe male bouncers in action. There she and her team learned crowd control, coordination and authority. Gaining credibility was a battle all its own. Pay remained inconsistent and unequal, with women earning less than men for similar work. “One of our first assignments was during the Ganesha festival when we had to take care of women and the elderly,” said Parab. These humble beginnings gave Parab the opportunity to build a team that could handle the most complicated events: political rallies, religious ceremonies and private events.
Bouncers: a new dream
What started with five women in saris eventually grew into a group of over 700 people Ranragini Lady Security Services Providing a disciplined and determined crew of all women to occupy public spaces traditionally controlled by men. The demand for female bouncers has grown steadily, particularly at weddings, VIP security services and private celebrations.
The recruitment of women for the training phase is supervised by Parab itself, which ensures that their height, weight and physical condition meet the requirements. Once selected, they will be given free training at the Pandit Nehru Stadium in Pune. “I don’t charge them anything for the training,” says Parab. “And from the fees they receive, I keep only Rs 100. Sometimes celebrities or event managers gift us large amounts. We don’t keep this money either. I have funded the education of two girls with this money. I like to think of my work as a social activity and not a business,” Parab added.
Each woman is asked to take part in a few events that test her skills. “If all goes well, she will continue to work with Ranragini as a bouncer, bodyguard or security guard. On an average, they earn between Rs 700 and Rs 900 per event, with Rs 100 reserved for Parab’s fund.”
Your training is based on empathy. “For example, if there is a drunk girl at a club or event, our job is to make sure she is safe, escort her to a taxi and make sure she gets home safely,” Parab said. The job is also deeply personal for her. Once, while protecting a domestic violence survivor, she realized that she was not only providing safety, but also caring for someone in need. “That day I understood what it really means to protect,” Parab said.
The emergence of female bouncers like Parab’s team is part of a subtle shift in the way women inhabit India’s public spaces. In feminist urban theory, scholars such as Shilpa Phadke, co-author of Why Loiter?, describe the right to the city as not just the right to live or work in urban spaces, but to move through them freely, with agency, visibility, and without fear. In India, women’s access to public life has been determined for decades by ideas of security. The presence of female bouncers turns this logic on its head.
Aditya Ansh is a freelance reporter based in New Delhi.
