My Diary@Kamathipura

This article is written as a part of the Mahindra and Indiblogger Incredible stories contest. The characters in this story are fictional but the story is real- one that happens to hundreds of girls each year in our country. I would suggest you to watch the video at the end only after reading the whole story as it is a long one and you might lose patience reading it. But believe me nothing I wrote is something that has never happened. 

 

(Source: Google Images/Wallpapers)

In the dark lanes, the sun rose after the dusk and before the civilized men’s hunger for something other than food was satisfied. 

She hurriedly put on the red saree. The color was fading and she could see the red turning into darker pink due to continuous wash in the low cost detergent. The hem was torn but she did not pay much attention to it. The hem was not of importance at least in the next 7-8 hours. A faint silly smile came on her face as she thought about the importance of the whole 6 meter saree itself. She tightened the knot of the blouse around her breasts. This made them look more shaped and less soggy. Reaching out for the red lipstick, which she had been using and sharing with 2 of the other inmates for the past 8 months, she thought about the same scene 5 years back. She would never have allowed anyone to paint her lips red. Back at school, she was taught that applying cosmetics at an early age causes a bad reaction on the skin. Now, there was no skin. She was nude – in her heart. Nudity suited her. It gave her the courage to face herself at night and the Grahak(customer) the rest of the time. Looking at the age old clock, she hurriedly put her pallu on the blouse exposing a good amount of flesh for the customers to gauge at. The flower she had been wearing in the morning had worn out and was smelling foul. She criticized the brothel aid Chandu for not doing his work properly and pinned up the same flower in her hair. The baby on the bed was fast asleep. She picked her up carefully and called out to Chandu. The pimp came hurriedly carrying another baby in his arms. She handed over her baby to him and gave him a stern look. Chandu nodded. If the baby did not cry when her mother was at work, she was not to be beaten or suffocated. Otherwise, may god help her. 

Leela, ready to start the day’s work came out in the main room and stood with 13 of her friends in a front facing row. In another 5 minutes, they will start coming. One by one, men started pouring in. He was the sixth or seventh man who walked in at around 10:30. The familiar face. Leela, knew this would be a non-brutal night. He smiled at her before moving towards the brothel owner, Shyama, who gave him a toothless red – pan- stained smile. She took the cash and gave the futile advice of using protection (as a law, enforced by some recent act – which Shayama little cared about but followed out of fear of being caught). Leela had her first customer for the day. It would be no one else today as he had booked her for the whole night. As soon as they were in the room alone, she shifted her bed in the position where it should suit him. This was his 7^th visit and she knew what she had to do. Instead of taking out her clothes and exposing the skin, she took out the black shawl from the shelf and wrapped it around her head. She was awaiting the completion as eagerly as he was. He reminded her of the fact that she was still feminine and a woman. In this dark brothel of Kamathipura, Mumbai where she had been deceptively bought and sold 5 years back, he had become a warm ray of sunlight - someone who did not come to the brothel for sleeping with the women. Strange!!

Sunil, had told her that he was an art enthusiast and a painter by occupation and had turned to this brothel by accident. He was well settled professionally and had a good name in the world of art. The idea of presenting ‘Women’ on the canvas had brought him here. For his next collection, he wanted to paint a women’s life in different shades and colors - each shade defining a different phase of women’s life. For the color black, he wanted to make a portrait of Leela. The story of how and why was still puzzling her. 

For Sunil, she was a ray of hope. She was 21 and was working in the sex house for more than 5 years. She had a kid when she was 20. He knew that she did not know who the father of this child was. There was no way she could know. She was not beautiful but attractive. He found himself staring at her and looked away.

Leela, was ready and waiting impatiently. She wanted to open the window for the fresh air but was afraid that the pimp might catch her doing so and hence kept quiet. Her constant glaring towards the window made him smile. He walked to the window and pushed the panes. The pimp nodded and moved from that spot in the balcony to another window that was still closed. In all his 7 visits, Sunil hadn’t touched her. She knew that his purpose of coming here was different. His purpose was indeed different, more different than she knew.

He - ‘I bought a new car’.  

She – ‘Oh, did you take your girlfrand out in it.’

He – ‘Haven’t I told you that I am not married.’

She – ‘Yes, you did. So what’s the color of this car?’

He – ‘It’s the same as your shawl. It’s a Mahindra XUV -500. Do you like cars?’

She didn’t answer. She hadn’t seen any in the past 5 years. 

 

He was painting her eye lashes on the canvas when the thought stirred in his mind. Was it the right time? Was she ready? He winked at no one in particular. The brush was put down. He looked at the hands of the clock. 12 AM. A deep breath. He got up and went out. She was baffled. Was he going to complain about her to the brothel owner. She started going through the conversation they had had in her mind. She shouldn’t have asked about his girlfriend. He was just another of her customers. Instead of her skin at hand he wanted her emotions on canvas. She laughed at this thought. The emotions had long ago left her. There was nothing she could do but wait. 

It took him 20 minutes to return to the room where she waited impatiently. 

It was difficult to convince the brothel owner –

He - ‘I want to take out Leela for a ride in my new Mahindra XUV?’ 

BM – ‘Hain?’ 

He – ‘The painting requires a beach background and I want to paint her lying on the sand.’

BM – ‘Listen Babuji, this is not allowed. I cannot let her go out with you. You pay more and that is why I let you paint her (and paint her on whatever) for hours. But beach- sheach no no!! What if she runs to police and never comes back.’

He was ready for this. Sachin T had said correctly, ‘Money can’t buy some things, for everything else there is a Master card’. The brothel madam definitely was in the boundaries of the master card help zone. 

He – ‘Here’ and the ten thousand rupees were passed. 

Leela looked at him. What is she to do now? He said ‘Please change into some.. urghh.. simple clothes.’ She was confused but scared enough not to ask any further questions. She went out of the room. Shyama whispered something in her ears and pinched her chidingly. She came back to the main room where he was waiting with his stuff in his left hand and the car keys in right. Leela’s, first ever trip in 5 years of her stay in Mumbai was about to begin.  

The only car she had seen before she entered the lanes of Kamathipura bore little resemblance with the one standing in front of her. Shyama, had told her that Sunil wanted to take her out to the beach for finishing his painting work. However at this moment, she did not care about where to or what for she was in this big luxurious black safe car. Sunil signaled her with a hand and helped her wear the seat belt. The engine went into ignition. 

He was deep lost in his thoughts. He did not want to label any reason to what he was doing now. He did not know what would be the result. It was past an hour that he had been driving and no words had been spoken. Both of them were enjoying the lone ride and the fresh night air. The time had come. They were approaching the highway. He turned towards her ‘Where are you from Leela, meaning where did you live before coming here to Mumbai?’

Silence. 

He changed the gear and the car speeded up.

‘Kathmandu.’ 

The car came to a sudden halt. 

‘Kathmandu to Mumbai?’

No answer.

There were series of horns and obscene comments from the vehicle at the back that was affected by this stop.He parked the car on the side and got out to dial a number from his cell phone and spoke with someone for 15 minutes before starting the car again. He took a left turn from there and they were on highway. The beach was nowhere to be seen. She got panicked. Maybe he will rape her or sell her to some other brothel. What about her child. What would happen to her.

He started in deep voice 

He- ‘I am not a painter.’

She- ‘So? Are you going to sell me instead of the painting for more money?’

Her question made him laugh. 

‘No, I am a social worker. I work with this organization and police to free the captured women from sex houses in Mumbai. We are here to help you and many others.’ And he breathed again having spoken this sentence in one deep breath. The moments of truth had passed.

She did not expect this. Was she dreaming? She did not trust him. She could not.  

He continued ‘ Listen Leela, if you want to go back to that place. I will drop you. But if you don’t and I know you don’t, I can help you and your child to live a better life. With your help we can free more of your friends who are of minor age and have been kept illegally in this trade against their will.’

He waited patiently while the car moved on smoothly on the wide road. He knew she would need time to digest all this and come to a decision. Sunil had started his NGO 3 years back with a dream of providing a better future and liberating the minor girls forced into sex trade against their will and exploited physically and mentally. He knew the importance of this trip. A positive reaction from her would not only enable his NGO to raid the brothel and recover her child but also free other girls. But she needed time to understand and make a decision. In another two hours they would be at the dhaba( a roadside shack serving dinner) where Inspector Syal was waiting with his men. This rescue operation that his team and the police had planned for several months could be a success depending upon what she decided.

Leela was lost. The silky breeze from the side window was flowing over her face. She could feel the chill. In the past 5 years her life had changed altogether. After abducting her form the village, her so called uncle had sold her for 10,000 rupees to Shyama. The whole film moved over her eyes as the car glided smoothly on the downhill curve. The first time she was tortured and nearly beaten to death for refusing to sleep with a client. The first time she was raped brutally by 3 men in lieu of extra money to the brothel owner. The first time she had the abortion accidentally when she was hit by a client. The birth of the child whose future was as dark as the room where she had spent these years. This road journey was about to change her life but when you have lived in dark for many years you refuse to accept the light so easily. How come help came now when she had lost all hope in those miserable years. She was having her own share of doubts about him. He, who she was meeting for the 7^th time in her life wanted to save her from that place. But, what about her child. Would madam hide her somewhere on seeing the police and she would never be able to recover her? The child was the only support she was left with. Her thoughts moved rapidly, and faster than the car.  Another fear found its place in her mind. Where would she go and what would she do even if she got her child back and was able to start a life outside the brothel? She wasn’t educated enough to get a job and there was no skill she could rely on for finances. She hardly remembered her family but she was sure they would not take her back. Would it be going from one brothel to another? All these thoughts mystified her mind and the journey of her life took another left turn towards the Dhaba.

Sunil was also lost in his own thoughts. The last years had been heavy on him personally. His commitment to helping women caught in this flesh trade had impacted his personal life. Riya, once more than a soul partner had left him 2 years ago in order to pursue her education in London. Sunil’s passion and his work needed him to stay in Mumbai and work on ground level whereas Riya had dreams of making it big in the marketing industry and took up a job in a London based advertising agency. She had tried hard to persuade him to come with her for they both loved each other dearly. But they were not destined to be. He continued his work in Mumbai. This was the first time that the organization had tried the trap of playing a customer in the brothel and winning a worker’s trust to try and free her and the other females from that place.

The night was getting darker and the sun was far from approaching the horizon. 

As the wheels moved, the hope of the dawn rose for Leela and Sunil.

She – ‘if you help me in getting my child back, where would I go with her?’

He – ‘You could live at our care center where many women live and make their living. You would get help in learning – sewing, painting, cooking and you would be able to earn money. It’s a safe place and many women live there, some of whom have been rescued like you will be. If you want to go back to Kathmandu…’ He stopped without finishing the sentence. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

Silence. 

The car was strong. She moved a hand over the glass windows and touched the gear. She felt the power of the car in his words. There was an assurance that things will get fine. His eyes held the promise of a better future for her child. She had no doubts about his intentions on the other side. He wasn’t the man who will rape, beat or sell her for money. If he wanted to do so, he could have done that easily anytime.

She- ‘Will I also be able to drive a car like this one day?’

There were smiles. ‘Yes, do you like this car.’

She – ‘I hadn’t seen one like this until now.’

 

 She was sitting in the verandah of the house and waiting for her. The familiar black Mahindra SUV stopped minutes later in front of the care center. The little girl with two ponies came out of the car. She was holding the fingers of her father. He was carrying the medicines and clothes for the women at care center inside the front room. Leela came to the room and stood in a front facing row. The standing arrangement reminded her of the scene that had happened 4 years ago at Kamathipura when Sunil had taken her out for the painting trip. How life had changed after that day. 

The girl smiled at her. Leela smiled back. Sunil had named her Riya. She was 5 now. Riya lived with Sunil. He was the only parent she thought she had. This was part of the pact that Leela and Sunil had formed with each other soon after Leela was diagnosed with AIDS. Someone someday at the brothel had passed her this virus which luckily had not affected Riya. She was healthy and had shown no signs of HIV positivity. Leela was happy that she was with Sunil and did not know the dark shadows of Leela’s past life. The life that was soon going to be over but was happy that her child would lead a better one. 

 Riya shook her ‘Come on aunty, we are going to the beach.’

 The road trip with Sunil from the lanes of Kamathipura to this house and the work she had done helping his organization free other females sold illegally in this sex trade had helped her to face herself not only in the dark but also in the light.

She could now die a happy person. The journey of her life was this one trip that had made a huge difference to Riya and saved many more lives from the jungle of forced prostitution.

  

For knowing more about this contest (http://www.indiblogger.in/topic.php?topic=52)  and Mahindra XUV 500(http://www.mahindraxuv500.com/).

For knowing more about the real life stories of women like Leela, spend some time to watch the below video:

The day my God died.