Source: http://www.riseforindia.com
It was the summer of 2009; college life was still in the honeymoon period. On a bright Monday morning, I sat all joyous and excited in the classroom, waiting for life’s first interview assignment. However, within an hour, it changed to a strange feeling; a blend of fear, uncertainty and reluctance. The task was to visit a sex worker from Sonagacchi (Asia’s largest brothel) and know her story. ‘Red light area’-I murmured to myself. What was it like? What about the women who live there? Why are they there? How do they look? How do they talk? Would I be safe?
In another hour, I was sitting face to face with a woman in her 40s. Swapna Das, she called herself. She looked liked those same familiar faces I see every day; only, a little more tired, with her dirk circles and wrinkles a bit more prominent. I didn’t know from where to start, which she understood and laughed. “Let me tell you my story”-she said, and looked straight into my eyes. I looked at her too, and for once, I felt, I’ve never seen so much of truth in anyone’s eyes before.
“I was 15, when my father got me married. He was an irregular earner, and even when he did, he spent most of it in his drinks. I remember girls from my neighborhood going to school; how badly I wanted to be one of them! Marriage is supposed to be showered upon a woman like blessings, but to me it came like a shock. But on the other hand, I thought, maybe this would save me from this life where I run short of everything. A nice family, loving parents, even enough food! Little did I know, I was getting married to another drunkard drug-addict beast, who would remember to practice the rights of a husband only when he needs sex.
We had no money, & I needed to earn. Therefore, I started serving as a maid in a family which lived in the same locality. The family consisted of the owner of the house, his son & daughter-in-law.
I was used to poverty, maltreatments from family members. BUT! Being sexually abused was something new which started taking place. Both the men in family would find excuses to touch me, and it soon turned to forceful molestations.
I was in need of money and couldn’t quit working. But I was scared too, the place wasn’t safe for me anymore. But then, where would I return? I had no reason to think that home was a batter place to stay. Scared and helpless, one day I decided to run away. One night when everyone fell asleep, I packed the little belongings and silently came out. I didn’t know where to go. But one thing I was sure of. I didn’t want to be caught. I started running.
Now I feel, I shouldn’t have run that way. May be a calm walk would’ve led me to some better place. That night, I reached the bank of Ganges in sometime. I could faintly recognize a slum. It was the Kumartuli Brothel, I didn’t know then. I waited there, till morning arrived. AND! Never could I escape from that place. Early morning, a man spotted me at the ferry, half asleep-half awake. I was innocent, and may be stupid enough, to tell him everything. I needed help. He was keen to ‘help me’, and even keener to help himself with some money. He took me to another woman. She lived in a strange house, with countless number of rooms, as small as cages.
Shibapratim Bagchi thought I was going to be hired as a maid again, and I wasn’t quite sad about it. However, only in a couple of hours, it was clear to me as soon as I was ordered to ‘dress well’ and stand at the door. I started crying, screaming, and begging to let me go. But this time, I failed. They locked me inside a room.
I know, we prostitutes are hated, disrespected, and often made fun of. When you criticize a woman for her rotten character, you compare her with us. How many of you know, that many of us treat our ill and aged parents with the money we earn? We send money, & the money is accepted. But, we aren’t allowed to show up in front family members. How many of you know, that many of us regularly donate money to various organizations who look after slum children? & many of you know don’t even know why we’re here. It is never our choice.
We’re often asked if given a chance, we would go back to the mainstream of society. The answer is a big NO. Your society has failed to give us education, family, livelihood. All it does is to act as a moral police at times. I sell my body, and I got enough guts to admit that. I don’t steal. I am not dishonest. I don’t beg for money either. I sell what belongs to me, is solely mine. I’ve two sons. One is 16 years old, another is 10. They don’ t know who their fathers are, but they definitely know who their mother is. I want to ensure proper education for them. When they grow up, they’ll understand that bringing them up wasn’t an easy task for me.
It’s funny how the same so called ‘gentlemen’ who visit brothels frequently, turn to honest and responsible family-men during daytime. It’s amazing how parents advice their children not to mix up or play with our children in schools, at play-grounds. It’s worth noticing how people look at us in public transports. Yes, it gives us a good feeling; for the fact, that we’re better as human beings, than a lot many. For the fact, that we won’t let our children grow up as mean minded personalities who can’t help but can only hurt. We’re glad we are not hypocrites.
When you write about us, Please write, that we don’t require sympathy from those who know nothing about our struggle. That would only make them great, and us, heinous creatures.”
P.S: From that day, my idea of right and wrong changed forever. Each word she spoke felt as if I was being slapped hard. Or may be, we all were; being slapped on our notions, on how we see, judge, conclude things. This, perhaps, was one of those thousand stories we’re unaware of. & neither do we try knowing. Our conventions have taught us to condemn them from surroundings, knowledge and even from our thoughts.
Just one little sensitive heart and a hand full of love could bring a change to your perspective next time.
Shibapratim Bagchi
It was the summer of 2009; college life was still in the honeymoon period. On a bright Monday morning, I sat all joyous and excited in the classroom, waiting for life’s first interview assignment. However, within an hour, it changed to a strange feeling; a blend of fear, uncertainty and reluctance. The task was to visit a sex worker from Sonagacchi (Asia’s largest brothel) and know her story. ‘Red light area’-I murmured to myself. What was it like? What about the women who live there? Why are they there? How do they look? How do they talk? Would I be safe?
In another hour, I was sitting face to face with a woman in her 40s. Swapna Das, she called herself. She looked liked those same familiar faces I see every day; only, a little more tired, with her dirk circles and wrinkles a bit more prominent. I didn’t know from where to start, which she understood and laughed. “Let me tell you my story”-she said, and looked straight into my eyes. I looked at her too, and for once, I felt, I’ve never seen so much of truth in anyone’s eyes before.
“I was 15, when my father got me married. He was an irregular earner, and even when he did, he spent most of it in his drinks. I remember girls from my neighborhood going to school; how badly I wanted to be one of them! Marriage is supposed to be showered upon a woman like blessings, but to me it came like a shock. But on the other hand, I thought, maybe this would save me from this life where I run short of everything. A nice family, loving parents, even enough food! Little did I know, I was getting married to another drunkard drug-addict beast, who would remember to practice the rights of a husband only when he needs sex.
We had no money, & I needed to earn. Therefore, I started serving as a maid in a family which lived in the same locality. The family consisted of the owner of the house, his son & daughter-in-law.
I was used to poverty, maltreatments from family members. BUT! Being sexually abused was something new which started taking place. Both the men in family would find excuses to touch me, and it soon turned to forceful molestations.
I was in need of money and couldn’t quit working. But I was scared too, the place wasn’t safe for me anymore. But then, where would I return? I had no reason to think that home was a batter place to stay. Scared and helpless, one day I decided to run away. One night when everyone fell asleep, I packed the little belongings and silently came out. I didn’t know where to go. But one thing I was sure of. I didn’t want to be caught. I started running.
Now I feel, I shouldn’t have run that way. May be a calm walk would’ve led me to some better place. That night, I reached the bank of Ganges in sometime. I could faintly recognize a slum. It was the Kumartuli Brothel, I didn’t know then. I waited there, till morning arrived. AND! Never could I escape from that place. Early morning, a man spotted me at the ferry, half asleep-half awake. I was innocent, and may be stupid enough, to tell him everything. I needed help. He was keen to ‘help me’, and even keener to help himself with some money. He took me to another woman. She lived in a strange house, with countless number of rooms, as small as cages.
Shibapratim Bagchi thought I was going to be hired as a maid again, and I wasn’t quite sad about it. However, only in a couple of hours, it was clear to me as soon as I was ordered to ‘dress well’ and stand at the door. I started crying, screaming, and begging to let me go. But this time, I failed. They locked me inside a room.
I know, we prostitutes are hated, disrespected, and often made fun of. When you criticize a woman for her rotten character, you compare her with us. How many of you know, that many of us treat our ill and aged parents with the money we earn? We send money, & the money is accepted. But, we aren’t allowed to show up in front family members. How many of you know, that many of us regularly donate money to various organizations who look after slum children? & many of you know don’t even know why we’re here. It is never our choice.
We’re often asked if given a chance, we would go back to the mainstream of society. The answer is a big NO. Your society has failed to give us education, family, livelihood. All it does is to act as a moral police at times. I sell my body, and I got enough guts to admit that. I don’t steal. I am not dishonest. I don’t beg for money either. I sell what belongs to me, is solely mine. I’ve two sons. One is 16 years old, another is 10. They don’ t know who their fathers are, but they definitely know who their mother is. I want to ensure proper education for them. When they grow up, they’ll understand that bringing them up wasn’t an easy task for me.
It’s funny how the same so called ‘gentlemen’ who visit brothels frequently, turn to honest and responsible family-men during daytime. It’s amazing how parents advice their children not to mix up or play with our children in schools, at play-grounds. It’s worth noticing how people look at us in public transports. Yes, it gives us a good feeling; for the fact, that we’re better as human beings, than a lot many. For the fact, that we won’t let our children grow up as mean minded personalities who can’t help but can only hurt. We’re glad we are not hypocrites.
When you write about us, Please write, that we don’t require sympathy from those who know nothing about our struggle. That would only make them great, and us, heinous creatures.”
P.S: From that day, my idea of right and wrong changed forever. Each word she spoke felt as if I was being slapped hard. Or may be, we all were; being slapped on our notions, on how we see, judge, conclude things. This, perhaps, was one of those thousand stories we’re unaware of. & neither do we try knowing. Our conventions have taught us to condemn them from surroundings, knowledge and even from our thoughts.
Just one little sensitive heart and a hand full of love could bring a change to your perspective next time.
Shibapratim Bagchi
