Trafficking - A Personal Reportby Ramesh Mahadevan Hello readers! Welcome to our little world. A world where me and the other sisters are brought from all kinds of places and sold for money – that too, in the open. Where we are kept in cramped quarters and locked up for hours without any food or water around. Where we are exhibited around, like cattle in the Pushkar Fair – with the potential buyers touching and feeling us wherever they desire. Truly disgusting, indeed. And yet, no Human Rights Commission has even considered looking into our plight. I don't know if we can be called 'call girls', but I am not here to quibble about labels and terminology. To me, everyone like me is a girl and a sister. And we are the victims of a worldwide trafficking. I hear such things are going on around the world. But in Third World countries and Africa, I am told such trafficking is brisk. Delhi is supposed to be the major place for this in India. With the present population explosion and skyrocketing demand for girls like us, some of us are being sold for a mere Rs. 500 – just like that. The procedure is always the same. A customer walks in. The 'agent' then shows us around. The customer then examines us – and some of them even make us sing. Sometimes the customers would bring their faces so close to us we could even smell alcohol in their breath. They would look at us lewdly and utter all kinds of nonsense. I know of some instances when sisters were stripped right in front of everyone. What can we possibly do? “You will have to do everything the customer wants. The customer has to be 'satisfied', always,” our owner would say. And it is not as if only the wealthiest and the scumbags are buying us. These days, customers come from all walks of life. Among us, the slim ones and the good-looking 'models' command a higher price, obviously, and are readily picked. But, as it invariably happens elsewhere in our country, if you are dark-skinned or a little bulky, no one buys you. After one girl is sold, the owner always gets fresh maal, as we are sometimes referred to derisively. There doesn't seem any dearth of sisters like us. What happens when we leave this trading post? One hears of all kinds of horror stories. Like the time when a businessman bought one of the sisters and took her along with him on a business trip. In his hotel room, he got a call from one of his business partners that he lost a business deal. The guy was so upset he actually threw the sister to the floor and nearly killed her, as if she was the reason for his business loss. A lot of us sisters, patiently bear the brunt of a lot of such misdirected anger. We are the easy scapegoats, right? I heard she was disabled after this incident and they really had to work on her for months to restore her to somewhat of an okay health. She couldn't even talk for months, it seems. And in another horrible case, it seems a businessman was traveling in a car with a sister late in the night when he supposedly got the 'urge'. He was already fondling her when he was driving. But then, he had the common sense to pull to the side of the road. The Yamuna river was flowing beside the road and so in the darkness of the night, he took the sister to the riverbank and started doing you know what. And then, all of a sudden, without a warning, she fell into the river. The businessman panicked maybe for a minute, but drove on as if nothing had happened. He didn't even report it to the police. A waste of a sister's life. People play all kinds of games with us. I tell you, we take so much abuse that it is sickening… Occasionally, and I mean very occasionally, we have customers becoming unhappy with a girl and come back to return her. They would yell at our owner and try to get some money back or get another girl. This would inevitably lead to loud, acrimonious fights. I have seen it all. I have seen sisters leave us one by one. Out of this hell and into god knows where. There would be profound sorrow among the rest of us, as we all feel for the ones who are leaving. We would tell each other that we should somehow stay in touch. But you know, that never happens. Initially I used to be very happy if the customer didn't pick me up. I didn't want to leave this place. It is the fear of the unknown, you see. In spite of the terrible conditions, life had a stability and predictability with the owner. I know that if someone picked me up, I will have to submit to my master's every fantasy and desire. Perhaps endure all kinds of torture and, after everything is over, I may still be dumped like a piece of garbage. I never heard of any of the sisters escaping their masters and getting their freedom. But then, with the passing months, I started feeling guilty – when so many of my sisters got sold and I was still staying out. Then one day it happened. A man actually bought me! After haggling with my owner for hours! Even now I start to tremble when I think about it. My owner seemed only too happy to get rid of me. I looked at the other sisters around me and bade a tearful farewell to them. And entered into a world outside the four walls we were imprisoned in. The customer walked out of the place with me and grabbed me and showed me to his friend who was standing outside by the car. “This Nokia cell phone is really good, I heard all kinds of good things about it. I also got a five hundred rupees discount on it,” and proceeded to examine my LCD display and the various menu options.”
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