She sat by the window looking at the fading city. The bus had just moved out of the city limit and started the journey on the highway. Meera sat there holding her bag close to her. She knew that that sweltering summer day was to be a very important day in her life. She was going to make news. She looked at Ayan who was working on his camera. She looked out again at the fading outskirts. It was going to be a long journey to an unknown place. As the bus pulled out of the city and on to the highway, Meera saw a woman carrying a boy on her hip and walking a girl holding her left hand. Meera asked Ayan to click a picture of that and he instantly did.
“What was it?” he asked once the bus went past the mother and two children leaving smoky dust behind.
“Did you notice the boy comfortably sitting on his mother’s hip and the little girl, who could be his elder sister, walking beside them?”
“Yes, I did, but what is unusual?” he asked and began to review the picture that he had just taken.
“The boy who wasn’t walking was wearing footwear while the little girl was walking barefoot over the rough and hot road” Meera said as she kept looking outside at the mirage.
Ayan was silent.
“Aren’t you excited about this trip and the news we are working on?” Meera asked looking at Ayan who was still busy with his video camera.
“Yes I am” he said and looked at her.
“I’m going to surprise our editor with this documentary and am sure going to be a part of the primetime news slot” Meera exclaimed with million dreams escaping out of her eyes.
“But aren’t you taking a risk? This is your first solo show and then you are heading towards a risky town”
“I have you to protect me and I got my own confidence to deliver the best” Meera assured.
Ayan kissed her on her forehead and closed his eyes for a quick nap. She closed her eyes thinking of her first project.
Meera was fresh out of college and was an intern at that media house. She wanted to start off her career with some dramatic documentary. It took her almost 6 months to gather necessary information of what she wanted to do and meanwhile she befriended the cameraman Ayan.
Ayan worked at his own private office in the city. Meera has befriended him during a party thrown at her media house. Later Meera had insisted that he be a part of her project.
8 hours later the bus pulled into the town which was bustling with activities. It was 3 PM.
Meera and Ayan got down with their bags. Ayan pulled out a paper from his bag and traced the route of their destination. He called for an autorick.
“Paro amma’s house” Ayan told the driver. The driver returned a mischievous smile and asked them to get in. They rode down many dusty lanes and finally reached a huge mansion. It must have been a 60 years old. The house had a huge iron door and huge windows all over which were all shut at that time. They paid the driver and walked to the big gate. They saw a well-built man in his 40s who stood at the gate with a huge stick in his hand. Ayan walked further and spoke to him while Meera waited behind. Her eyes ran all over the compound wall that governed the mansion. “There can’t be an exit to this place”, she thought. As she looked at the mansion, she saw some girls at the terrace doing the daily chores. There was a sense of accomplishment already in her. She was nearing her subject.
Few minutes later, they were at the courtyard waiting for Paro amma. Meera had visualized her as an old woman who would be eating paan and would be rude to them. They heard sounds of trinkets and looked behind to see a young woman walking towards them.
“Paro” she said and sat elegantly beside them. She could have been in her mid twenties.
Meera sat there in silence looking at Paro’s flawless skin and her sense of dressing. She would easily give the fashion designers a sense of guilt for not taking tips from her.
“I have never let anyone come to this place for reasons other than business” Paro said in a curt tone.
“Thank you for letting us in. I’m really excited” Meera found it difficult to convey her happiness.
“We are going to take just 2 hours because we need to take the 8 PM bus back to our city” Ayan confirmed.
“Tonight is going to be busy. We have new clients coming in. I don’t want you to see them. And make sure you do not show the face of our girls in your video” Paro said as she stood up to leave.
“So whom are we going to interview today?” Meera asked.
“Basanti! O Basanti!” Paro called out as she walked in.
“Basanti!” Meera whispered to Ayan. Ayan was getting his camera ready.
A little girl ran towards them. She must have been 10 years old. Meera looked at Ayan in shock.
“Basanti will be here in a minute. Please sit in that room” the little girl said. Meera was relieved.
They walked to the room. The path towards the room was narrow and dingy. They got into the room which was dimly lit. It was bright outside, but the rooms inside the mansion were all dark and dimly lit. The windows were never open. The little room had a bed and a dressing table beside that. There were colorful dresses strewn all over. On the dressing table were unused condom packs.
“Take a video of the room. Pan across and finish it by zooming into the pack of unused condoms” Meera said.
Ayan shot the video in different angles and of different corners of the room. Meera was apprehensive to sit on the bed. She pulled the little chair beside the dressing table and sat on it. She did not like the room. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She stared herself at the mirror and looked at Ayan who was looking at her. She then realized that he was looking at her body. She returned a mischievous smile and turned to the door as someone stepped in.
Basanti walked in with a tray of fruits. She placed it on the bed and sat on it with both her legs folded backwards on the right side. She smiled at Meera and Ayan while they looked at Basanti. She looked perfectly fit and her face was spotless. Every feature in her was well measured. Even the red lipstick was even and there were no traces of smudging. The khol that embellished her eyes was clear and illustrative of the beauty that she carried. There was silence for a while. Meera wasn’t sure where to begin and she felt all the questions she had on mind had dissolved in the darkness of the room.
“Can we open this window?” Meera asked and she was surprised at herself for starting a conversation that way.
“Paro amma does not like it. We are not supposed to” Basanti said in her girlish voice.
“How old are you?” Meera asked.
“I don’t remember. I know I was born sometime in March, but don’t know when. Could be 24” Basanti said and looked at Ayan who was shooting all of that.
“Has Paro amma allowed you to take the video?” Basanti asked Ayan.
“Yes, she has. Your face will not be telecast. Be comfortable.” Ayan replied.
“Basanti, I might ask questions that might hurt you, but then I have to do it to make this documentary a bit dramatic”
Basanti laughed at Meera’s statement. “Sure. I will be honest about myself. I make money selling my body. Now you can make money by selling my story” she continued to laugh. Meera felt a tinge. Ayan kept moving from one place to another to take shots from multiple angles.
“How did you get into this house?” Meera asked.
“Long story, but I will try and keep it short or at least interesting” Basanti said and laughed again.
“You have a lovely laughter” Meera said and Ayan instantly zoomed to get a close up view of Basanti and her laughter. At least, they were allowed to show just her laughter if not the full face.
“The first time I was married, I must have been 14. My father sold me to a 30 something man for 6000 rupees. In the name of marriage, I was sold to him. He took me to some town where I ended up doing household chores. He had a wife of his age already and he also had a son. I did all the odd jobs at his place and I was constantly abused. Physically, sexually, and emotionally. I was not allowed to contact my parents. I wanted to talk to my mother very badly. I did not know how. After almost a year later, I mustered the courage and stole some money from that house and ran back to my village just to see my mother. I ran with all my courage. I took a bus. I took a train and finally reached my village to see my house gone. My parents were gone to some other village and nobody had a clue where they had gone. I had no place to go. Nobody would let me inside their house. I walked back to the railway station and slept on the stone bench. I shivered and cried. Then I took a train that stopped midnight in my village. I slept inside an almost empty compartment. After sometime, someone woke me up in the middle of the journey. It was a police man. He asked me where I was heading to and I told him everything. He smiled at me. The next day I was sold off to another man for 10000 rupees. The policeman went home as a happy man. My journey began that midnight train. I was moved from one hand to the other and finally ended up here” she said her story in a tone with no modulations. It was as if she had been telling this story to everyone she had met at that house.
There was brief silence and then Meera continued, “Tell us something about Paro amma. How did she get into this? She also seems to be your age”.
“I can’t tell you much about Paro amma but she has been very kind to us. She feeds us well. She pays our wages well. She keeps us happy as long as we keep our clients happy” Basanti said and picked an apple from the tray. She sliced them elegantly and served it to Meera and Ayan.
“You never wanted to get out of this place?” Meera asked.
“If only I had an option. Where will I go? How do I earn my money? How do I make a living?”
“You have many NGOs who can help you with moving on in life”
“Well, I trusted that policeman that night” Basanti snapped.
“Not all are the same, right? NGOs work for your rehabilitation”
“Any further questions?” Basanti asked and Meera was offended at her rudeness.
“So you don’t want to go out of this place? You must like it in here then?” Meera sniggered.
“I have no complaints. This is my work place and apparently this is my home too”
“Tell me about your clients”
Basanti laughed at Meera’s gullible question.
“How can I disclose my clients’ information?” Basanti continued to laugh.
“You don’t have to tell me who they are. Tell me what kinds of people come to this place”
“From all walks of life. From all strata. Each girl is priced different in this house. Regular clients will have their
personal preference of a girl and will be ready to pay a higher price. We have rich men and the paupers as well”
“Have you ever looked back at the days when you were a little girl back in your village and with your parents?”
“Past hurts. I don’t look back. I live for the moment, if not I’m going to suffer in the future. I need to make money until this beauty wears off”
“What happens after you have been asked to leave?” Meera asked.
“That is why we need to be smart enough to save our money and get a life when we move out of this place”
“What are you looking forward to do when you are out in the real world?”
“I’m sure even the real world is as filthy as this wh0rehouse. I don’t want to think about it now”
There was silence for a while and Ayan placed his camera on the dressing table. He picked a piece of the apple and sat on the bed beside Basanti. Meera ran her eyes over Basanti who was meddling with her bangles.
“So what are you going to do with this video?” Basanti asked as she still kept playing with her bangles.
“I’m new to the industry and I wanted to make waves by creating a news item that will reach the mass quickly and powerfully. And flesh trade is one thing that has been talked about a lot but yet people just pass it off as yet another business” Meera replied.
“Of course it is one of the most profitable businesses in our country I believe. What if one day we go on a strike and stop this trade?” Basanti laughed at her own interrogation.
Meera’s eyes widened.
“Can you do that?” Meera asked with awed eyes.
“I’m sure joking. It is never likely to happen. Some even have kids. They will have to feed them and take care of themselves”
“But imagine, one day this trade is abolished. Child trafficking and sexual abuse becomes a myth. Won’t that be the best thing to happen to everyone?” Meera’s face was gleaming.
Ayan picked his camera again and focused on Meera.
“You have a long way to go in your career. A lot to learn. Every young mind might want to abolish a lot of things. But when they take steps to do that, they realize that reality is far more painful than their own dreams” Basanti said.
“You seem to know the world out there” Meera said.
“I read magazines. I read the newspaper” Basanti said as she looked at a tiny loft where she had piled all her old newspapers and magazines.
“Who is Rahim?” Meera asked. Ayan looked at Meera in surprise.
Basanti was stunned for a moment and then her face morphed to a blushing smile. She ran her fingers over the words ‘Rahim’ on her left hand.
“Who is he?” Meera asked.
“Just someone who used to visit this place quite often. I liked him a lot. He is the only man whom I look into the eyes when I’m with him”
“How often does he come here?”
“Not anymore. The last I heard of him was he was married”
“But you still have his name on your hand” Meera looked apologetically.
“I can’t erase it”, she smiled and said, “I still feel him around. He was my hope that came through the door and fled through the window. Sometimes he wouldn’t have money when he came. I would spend the night with him and pay Paro amma a part of my salary. All I wanted was to be with him, although for few hours every now and then”
“Did you ever tell him about your love for him?” Meera asked.
Basanti smiled as if to mock at her destiny.
“I decided to. I was dressed at my best that night. I waited for him. He did not turn up. I waited for him for days and he never returned. Might sound like yet another sad clichéd story! One day, a young man came here and while we were having the initial conversation before getting into bed, he told me about Rahim. He told me that he was married. He also told me that it was Rahim who suggested his friend to pick me from the lot because I was very good” Basanti said and her voice crackled.
Meera looked into her eyes which were moist.
“I do not know what to say. I’m sorry” Meera said and held Basanti’s hand. Basanti took away her hand immediately.
“Meera, I will be back in a minute” Ayan said and walked out of the room leaving the two ladies behind.
“Are you aware of HIV and STD?” Meera continued asking questions.
“Yes, we are. We have our regular checkups. Some clients insist on not wearing a condom, we simply show them the way. Paro amma is strict on those terms”
“I’m amazed at how professional this trade is”
“Yes it is. You will know about it a lot”
Meera looked at her wrist watch. It was time for her to leave. She looked at the dingy pathway and at the door. Ayan hadn’t returned.
“So, what would you like to wear? The red one or the black?” Basanti asked as she stepped out of the bed and picked the dresses near the bed.
“Well, thanks, I wouldn’t need any. I’m ok with this dress and we are leaving in few minutes” Meera said and stood up.
“Red or the black?” Basanti insisted.
Meera’s eyebrows arched.
“You are not going anywhere. We have special clients coming just for you” Basanti said as she moved closer to Meera.
“Wh.. what?” Meera felt uneasy.
“Relax. You are in a very safe place” Basanti comforted.
“Ayan! Ayan!” Meera called out to him.
“He won’t come. He was the one who sold you off to Paro amma”
Meera heard someone lock the door from outside. She could no more see the dingy pathway.
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Some facts from the Special Report in ‘The Week’ magazine dated February 25, 2007.
Trafficking lures: Befriending: 16.4%, Promise of job and money: 52.4%, Promise of marriage: 4.5%, Adoption: 0.2%, Blackmail: 2.8%, Use of force: 11.6%, Persuading husband to use force: 0.2% Family tradition: 2.1%
Traffickers: Family members (34.8%), acquaintances (52.5%), strangers (11.1%), and police (0.15%).
Age profile of victims: 13-15 years (1.9%), 16-17 years (2.8%), 18-21 years (14.7%), 22-35 years (68.5%)
Age at first sexual encounter: Less than 16 (45.5%), between 16 and 17 (27.7%), between 18 and 21 (22.9%), Less than 21 (3.8%)
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-the girl.
