THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE!

We are all murderers and prostitutes - no matter to what culture, society, class, nation one belongs, no matter how normal, moral, or mature, one takes oneself to be. – R.D. Laing

There are some incidents in life which move you to the core and shape you as a person. They show you the evil side of life. You can look away from them but you can’t deny the fact that it still exists. You can’t help it. You wish to change it but you can’t. You wish it didn't happen. You just have to live with it.

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The other side of LIFE!

We always think our life is hard. Some heartbreak, some failure in exam or something bad and we curse our fate but we forget that there is always someone out there whose life is worse than anything you’d ever think of yours to be. Be grateful for whatever you have! 

PRESENT:

I look at the clock. It’s 2 a.m. 26 hours since I last slept. I have tried sleeping but I couldn’t. I feel her suffering, her pain. As I look outside my window I feel disgusted and alone. The imaginary scene of what had happened to her has haunted me since the time she told it to me. That man ought to be killed. If GOD could grant me one wish right now, I want him to die the scariest of deaths. I never knew the human race has gone so cruel and evil. I just look outside and stare at the blank roads. I sigh and hope she stays happy from now on. God Bless Her! 

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28/03/2012   05:00 p.m.

We sat in my rickety Santro singing old Kishore Kumar melodies. It was Me, Anmol and Ashish. It was Ashish’s birthday and as always we boozed like crazy and eventually sang our favorite numbers. I took the driver’s seat as I was the only sane being and took Ashish besides as Anmol sang, “Pyaar Diwana hota hai, mastana hota hai…” Windows down, cool breeze, sad old songs as I put the car in gear and asked Ashish, “So, where do we head now?” He instantly said, “G.B. Road” I replied, “You surely are drunk manh!” Anmol echoed in the background, “Garstin Bastion Road is the biggest red light area in Delhi. I surely don’t wanna fuck a slut you arse-hole.” To which ashish said that he didn’t wanna have sex either. He just wanted to visit once out of curiosity. I looked at him and Anmol and then we all started laughing eventually. Alcohol makes you do the weirdest of things you wouldn’t have done if you were not drunk.

We headed towards G.B. Road.

It was bit embarrassing at times to ask the rickshaw-pullers near the railway station the way towards the road of brothels but we eventually reached there. As we entered, I saw a flood of men and vehicles. Till now I had only heard of it but today I was actually looking at it. It was a bit risky as the Police could harass the-drunk-guys at any moment but then who cared about it. As we entered I saw dark buildings with shops and the ground floors and sex workers peeping from the windows above. 

They did not smile. Neither did me. As we rode, I saw some more of them. I guess the sex trade was about to start. As Anmol was singing his songs and Ashish was shut, I took the very next U-Turn and returned back. I left both of them at the Connaught Place metro station and headed home. I just couldn’t look at those old black buildings for long. They irritated me.

28/03/2012 11:30 p.m.

My phone beeped with Ashish’s message:
I never knew it actually happens until I saw it today.

Within 5 minutes Anmol’s message arrived:
I never wanna be there again. Ever.

Maybe they felt the same what I did being at that place. There was an amazing amount of negativity at that place. I remember my eyes met with a couple of those sex workers and all that hid behind those eyes was PAIN. Incurable Pain.
I wanted to know more about any one of them. I’ll go there tomorrow morning, I decided.

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29/03/2012 11:30a.m.

I told Mom I am leaving for a friend’s house and headed straight towards that road. The auto-wallah told me that this isn’t the time to go there. I smirked and told him I am not going there for sex either. He gave me a weird expression and I started looking outside. I reached there within 45 minutes and started walking on the roadside. Those dark alleys smelled foul. There were packets of latex lying on some parts of the road. I actually realized that this is the place where bodies are sold for a few rupees every night to fulfill some carnal desires. Sex is cheap and it is the only truth.

Walking ahead I came near some old styled stairs. There were spats of the chewing tobacco on either side of it and they had turned black from yellow over the years. It read ‘64’. That meant it was brothel no. 64. I felt a li’l scared but I headed upwards.

I gathered up the courage, knocked at the door and walked into the brothel. 

There were about 14 women as I looked around that room. Few were in their 40’s whereas others looked young, very young. One of the younger one’s was well dressed in a salwar kameez and did not look like a sex worker. My shell of thoughts was broken when the maalkeen of the kotha yelled at me, “abhi dhandhe ka time nahi hai. Sham ko aana bachche.” I told her, what I was there for and what had happened yesterday. She calmly listened and then with a smile on her face asked me to sit down. DOWN. Already the overbearing smells of rancid body fluids mixed with inexpensive perfumes were wafting through the air and making me uncomfortable, adding to it now I will have to sit on the ground. Phew!

 I sat as she ordered tea and namkeen for me. I asked a bit of them and told a bit about myself. Some of them told me that they were forced by their family people here, some came here to earn money, some were tricked in the name of job and some tricked by fate. I felt sympathy towards them. Although I already knew something about it but then they were the bearers and hearing it from them made me feel what they had gone through.

I suddenly asked that salwar kameez girl, “Who are you?  You don’t look like you’re from here.” I was about to translate it into Hindi when She instantly replied in correct English, “Hi! I am Kusum Bhandari. I work with an NGO – Naari Bachao.” We shook hands and I appreciated her social work and was amazed with her fluency. I further inquired how she was there and stuff and she told me that it’s her birthday today. She belonged here once but was rescued from this evil life. She visits here on her birthdays to celebrate with her friends. I was eager to know about a girl who celebrates her birthday with sex-workers. I requested her to tell me her story but she hesitated. She eventually fell for my sweet request as we walked out towards the balcony. She looked good enough. Almond shaped eyes, dusky color, well tied long hair and a formal smile. She stared at the road as she narrated.

KUSUM’s STORY:

I was born in a very poor family in Andhra Pradesh 22 years back. We were a family of 5: Mom, Dad, Me and 2 younger brothers. Dad used to work in a construction company as a worker and Mom used to work as a household maid. They both worked very hard to provide us two square meals a day.
I was 9 when one of dad’s friends came to buy me.  She so easily said the word BUY. I got curious because of her intriguing tone.
He told Dad that they’ll be paid Rs. 1, 00,000 in return of getting me adopted in a rich family in Delhi. The latter never happened. Mom Dad succumbed to the circumstances and I was sold to that man. He kept me as his maid for 4 years in his room at Paharganj. 
He used to beat me up at times for childish mistakes and used to hurl abuses if I’d try to talk but I had no option apart from bearing with him.
During this period, he fed me well and took good care of me. Just like the butcher feeds the hen before she is slaughtered. My body grew with time and I knew I was growing to be a woman. He even understood my menstrual pains and took me to the gynecologist twice.

On my 14^th birthday he brought me a cake and wished me. I felt ecstatic and
overwhelmed. For the first time in my life my birthday was celebrated. He also brought a couple of his friends and they all started their drinking session and sang some songs. He ordered me to dance in front of them and I agreed out of joy. I ate the cake till my tummy was full and went and slept in my room. I never knew I had to return my joy to them by fulfilling their sexual desire. The heinous truth hid well behind the softness of her voice.

The Night That Never Ended:
I so wish she hadn’t seen this night for the darkness of this night has never allowed the rays of hope enter in her life. Ever.

It was 2 a.m. when those evil demons entered my room. I was fast asleep but woke up with their growling sounds. They switched on the light and threw the sheet over me to one side of the room. I was stunned at that very moment. One of them shouted at me and forced me to strip. I got scared and shocked as I saw three drunken men in front of me. I still remember their eyes. The atrociousness and heartlessness I saw in them still gives me Goosebumps. Even the animals would have never done what they did to me that day. I stood up as tears strolled down my eyes. I slowly and steadily removed my salwar and eventually with more shouting removed my kameez as well. With my hands I cupped my breasts over my bra and started moving towards the corner of the room as one of them started approaching me.
He shouted, “Aaj nahi bachegi tu.”
 The other two started laughing as my sobs kept increasing of fear. As soon as he approached me I fell on his feet and begged to leave me but my cries never reached those cold-blooded ears. This sounded execrable. Tears fell from her eyes and rested on her cheeks. She choked a bit, cleared her throat, sighed and continued.

He caught hold of me and threw me on the bed. I tried running here and there but I was like the deer that is caught by a group of beasts. I was eventually laid on that bed where the first bastard came over me and raped me. I cried in pain, and tried to run away from there but I couldn’t. He went on for over 30 minutes as the other two laughed and hurled abuses such as “kuttiya”, “maal” and what not. As and when he was exhausted he left me and the room after thanking the man who brought me here. I curled and cried in pain there. There were stains of blood on the sheet. I could sense her pain. My ears never wanted to hear it. I started feeling worse than I have ever felt.

Then the other one came over and repeated the same thing. He bit several parts of my body like an animal does to his prey. The scars of which has not left my body and the pain of which has not left my soul. He went on and raped me for 40 minutes more. All I could do was bear this endless suffering. I prayed and begged to GOD to rescue me out of this but he didn’t turn up. That was the day I realized, there is no god. We are the anchor of our own journey – Life! I cried to every positive force in this universe to save me from this disgrace but it didn’t happen. She had no faith in anyone. For her, mankind and god became extinct at the very same moment.

He also thanked my owner and left. I still lay there crying in pain. Excruciating pain of my life which began when they started feeding on me has never left my soul. That man looked at me with savaging eyes with a drink in his hand and a cigarette in the other. It was only me and him in the room. He took a drag, came near my mouth and released the smoke into my mouth. I instantly started coughing and he started laughing. He came over and tore off my bra. I had no strength left in my body. I caught hold of his hand and begged not to do this to me. He grinned with his evilness and said, “Theekh hai. Nahi karunga tere saath par tere poore jism ko ache se choounga zaroor.”  I thought he’d just feel and let me go. Atleast I am saved from the pain, I thought. But sooner I realized, the real pain was yet to come. 

I actually imagined, it feels like shit when someone else rules your body. I pitied her as tears welled up my eyes. She choked up a bit and started sobbing remembering what had happened. I held her hand to comfort her and offered her water from my bag. I asked, “It’s okay if you don’t want to continue…” She gulped down some water, heaved a sigh and said, “I somehow feel like sharing this with you…The world out there needs to know the evil side of them.” I nodded and she narrated the rest.

He came near me and spread my legs apart, rubbed his finger over my vagina and inserted his burning cigarette into my vagina. Fuck, did he? I can’t believe my ears.
I released the loudest cry with all the strength in my body. I felt immense pain which is inexplicable in words. 
All the physical pain happening in this world cannot unite and cause the pain I experienced at that time. He started laughing seeing me in this pain. I hurled in pain. His evil grin and my loud sobs filled the room. I shouted as I removed the ashes of that cigarette from my vagina and hurriedly emptied the bottle of Rum which was kept on the side table on it. It removed the instant causes of burn but angered my owner to the core. I was writhing in pain and my sobs grew louder but he didn’t pay heed to it. Instead, he took out his belt and started slamming me for wasting his fucking alcohol. A man that hits a woman is not a man.Bastard!I cried and died in pain for a few minutes before I felt unconscious and then I don’t remember anything.

I am flabbergasted. Stunned. For one second I am in a dilemma if it’s true or not and the very next second I realize she can’t lie about this. I can’t even imagine what she has gone through. Just a thought of a cigarette entering my private parts horrifies me. Being slapped and slammed by a belt when you have no ounce of energy left, raped thrice is pathetic. Super- Pathetic. I feel infuriated. If that Man would have been in front of me, I would have kicked his balls constantly till the time he died. It sucks belonging to the same race to which he does.

Next morning I woke up in brothel no. 64. I later got to know that he had left me there when I was unconscious. For the first few days, I didn’t speak anything, didn’t eat anything, didn’t smile, didn’t sleep, did nothing. I would stare at the open roads all day, all night. The girls here, tried to pep me up but nothing worked. I had lost all confidence in myself. I knew, resting in peace wouldn’t be as painful as living on earth is. 

I tried attempting suicide thrice but it wasn’t successful. The ultimate superpower didn’t even grant me this.
During one of those days Dr. Unnathi Krishnan discovered me and rescued me from all this. She is the one who runs the NGO – Naari Bachao. For six months I had psychiatric sessions and when they got to know the truth, the NGO filed a suit against that man. Nothing fruitful has turned out from that yet. Indian judiciary is the laziest ass of all. Since then, I work with this NGO, lead a happy life and often visit here for hearing there problems. I feel a connection towards them; we are all sufferers. Though, I still believe there is no GOD and the mankind is no more kind, I lead a life just to make some other lives better. This forceful prostitution will be eradicated someday Abhishek, I promise.
She leaves the balcony, wiping off her tears and runs into chit-chatting with the other women there. I think I got a tear in my eye. I look at my watch; 4 hours went by listening to her story. I check my phone to see 3 missed calls from Mom and some others from some friends. I keep it inside my pocket, go towards Kusum, thank her for telling me her story. I place my hand over her head and tell her to gimme a call whenever she requires any help. She returns the number back to me saying, “I won’t require any help. Thanks.”I understood her point. The one who has experienced extreme suffering requires no one else to be her strength in any situation now. I thank all the women there and catch an auto to my place. I was too stunned to take her number or to sympathize with her.I had to deal with myself first.

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29/03/2012 04:30 p.m.

I sit in my auto and think about what all I heard few minutes back. It horrifies me. There is a plethora of emotions going inside me - Rage(for that bastard), Sadness(for what happened), Contentment(for she is doing fine now), Inspiration(for the courage she has displayed), Doubt(for what made her share this with me) and it goes on. I just wish she stays happy forever. God grant her mercy.

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Women are not sex-toys to play with. They are as humans as we men are. They deserve to be loved, respected and cared. Never go the evil way to fulfill your sexual desires coz that might fulfill your desire but might give someone’s soul an incurable pain.

 I know it was a long story but I hope the message reached out to all of you. Stay blessed, Stay awesome!