"On a slope, if I step on the gas, my car stops." MEANING. The caller suffers from premature ejaculation.

"My eyes are droopy even when the sun shines brightly and flowers too are smiling at me." MEANING. I suffer from an erectile problem despite having a strong sexual urge.

"My mobile is not working properly." MEANING: Conveys an erectile problem.

"I am a tomcat and prefer the company of other tomcats. Am I okay?" MEANING. Indicates same sex preference.

"I am self-employed and have to work hard, but when I work hard, I feel lifeless." MEANING. I masturbate regularly, but feel drained and weak after the act.

"Is there any way to turn lemons into watermelons?" MEANING. Is there a way to increase the size of my breasts?

Here's a tricky question. Is there any way to turn lemons into watermelons? Absurd as it may sound to most people, it is perfectly comprehensible to thousands of Mumbaikars dependent on the city's sex helplines. Doctors and counsellors, who started the telephonic helplines, have evolved a sort of sexual slang innocuous enough to the uninitiated, effective and illustrative nonetheless.

Take this: "I am self-employed and have to work hard, but when I do so I feel lifeless." A perfectly normal everyday observation, but "self-employed" here implies masturbation and the caller feels weak after the act. Lemons, not surprisingly, refer to breasts-their size denoted by the fruit being referred to.

The helplines are available for all types of sexual dysfunctions and sexually transmitted diseases. Each disorder is referred to in its own lingo: a car stalling on a slope denotes a problem of premature ejaculation; "droopy eyes" indicate an erectile problem as does "my mobile isn't working" while "tomcats who prefer playing with other tomcats" denotes homosexual preferences.

Now, Mumbai residents who feel embarrassed about visiting a doctor or counsellor to discuss their sexual problems can choose to stay anonymous while availing themselves of the antidote over the phone. That many are choosing the phone option is apparent: telephones in the counselling centres across the city ring continuously. Consider myownhelpline, one of the half-a-dozen helplines operating in Mumbai. On Saturdays at 9 a.m. when it opens its service, the nightlife of Mumbaikars comes pouring out. For the next six hours, the phone practically rings off the hook. When it closes for the day, some 50 people have sought and received advice.

But not all use code words to discuss their mania or malaise. Like a 24-year-old, who said he enjoyed smelling dirty undergarments of his female family members and asked whether it was "normal". Or young children who want to know "if God permits masturbation? Is it a sin if I do it at the age of 12?" Says Shirsh Malde, a sexologist working with myownhelpline: "Misconceptions and myths rule an average person's sexual knowledge even in the contemporary age of media explosion."

The knowledge divide is what sex helplines intend to bridge. There is no need for an appointment or a personal visit, the caller need not reveal his or her identity and the service costs are limited to phone call charges. But unlike sex counselling columns in newspapers, magazines or the Internet, the telehelplines provide one-to-one contact with medical professionals or trained counsellors. The concept has caught on so rapidly that the newly started SNDT University's telephonic service, which takes calls between 2 p.m. and 4 p.m. Monday to Friday, receives over 100 calls every week. Says Praveena Almeda, a psychiatrist who runs the sndt helpline: "It is personal and yet not personal. The fear of getting recognised or a feeling of shame or guilt does not come in the way of the solution-seeker."

The concept of telehelpline was introduced in Mumbai five years ago to address suicide-related counselling. Then came the aids Anonymous helpline. Three years ago when the Mumbai office of the Family Planning Association of India (FPAI) started answering queries on reproductive health on an informal basis, the response was not very encouraging. But after it was relaunched as a sexual health service, the fpai phone hasn't stopped ringing. In the past three months, fpai logged 2,587 calls, of which 60 per cent of the callers were men, 30 per cent women and 10 per cent parents of adolescents. Says veteran sexologist and consultant with fpai Mahendra Watsa: "Parents are reluctant to discuss sexuality related matters with their children and call us up to seek advice on how to handle the young one's curiosity about sexual issues."

According to an analysis of calls received by a popular helpline, the age group of the solution-seekers ranges from 11 years (masturbation and condom queries) to 83 (sexual desire but a non-cooperating wife). Among the older lot, most complaints relate to erectile dysfunction followed by premature ejaculation and masturbation. Women callers, only 8 per cent according to the survey, sought advice on issues such as contraception, non-consummation of marriage, painful intercourse, enhancing sexual pleasure, improving the size of their breasts and sometimes masturbation. Sociologist Kalindi Mazumdar calls over-the-phone sexual guidance an urban phenomenon. "The disintegration of joint families, two pay-packet norm and stress have crossed the threshold," she says. The service is seen as an alternative support system where experts counsel without a hint of bias or getting too personal.

The efficacy of the service can be judged from the launch of helplines specialising in a particular area. Humjinsi, Aanchal and Humsafar, which cater to lesbians, bisexuals and homosexuals, have a huge caller base. Aanchal and Humjinsi don't just provide advice to distressed women, they also offer a strong support system. When Geeta Kumana, a social worker, started Aanchal two years ago, she received a lot of flak. Today, it receives no less than 50 calls when it opens for two hours on Saturdays. Earlier, women were mortified to even relate their problems. They would just start crying. Now they call to inquire about their legal rights. Says Kumana: "Helplines work as companions and trusted friends. You can confide in helpline counsellors without any fear of them being judgmental." Humsafar was established in 1999 to create aids awareness among homosexuals. It now receives 200 calls a week. They range from a 40-year-old father of two children asking if his penchant for dressing up like a woman is normal to parents seeking suggestion on how to cope with gay children.

To facilitate follow-up sessions, most patients are given code numbers so their history can be retrieved quickly. Some are even prescribed diagnostic tests and then advised treatment. Like Pankaj Kotak, 34, whose marriage was on the rocks because he thought he was impotent. On the advice of medical professionals on one of the city's helplines, he went in for a prosthesis operation. His wife is expecting after five years of marriage. His is just one of the success stories. Kotak feels it is a miracle but his counsellor believes it was pure ignorance.

Sometimes, however, the lines get crossed, literally. Almeda gets calls from people mistaking it for an erotic chat line. At times, those in search of a willing partner dial the helpline numbers or even call to hassle female counsellors to get a perverse sense of thrill, but that's an occupational hazard, handled as deftly as the counsellors handle their caller's physical or psychological ailments. And whatever the jargon used, doctors and counsellors who prefer to be the anonymous guides to thousands of distressed but embarrassed Mumbaikars are perhaps lighting the otherwise dark night for many in the city that never sleeps.