Walls painted pink and green with windows as small as a pigeonhole. Narrow staircases with colorful sarees hanging all around is the sight of a room in a red light area. Young and old wait in the alleys with their faces painted and bodies perfumed, covering up a multitude of emotions, selling sex to men who frequent the area from different walks of life – the educated, the illiterate, the rich, the poor, the affluent and so on.
After a short walk, I entered a shack-like room. A young girl named Pinky caught my attention as she carefully examined my footwear that was piled up with some other footwear just outside the door. I sat next to her as she continued to show interest in my footwear and asked if it belonged to me. I responded and offered it to her. In exchange I got to wear her footwear and realized how hard it was to walk in her shoes. Though she didn’t quite fit into mine, she was happy with the exchange for the moment. As we got talking, I got a glimpse of her world through her eyes.
Pinky, caught in a cycle of poverty and exploitation, works in the brothel serving 15 to 20 customers a day on average. She finds momentary comfort for her cravings for love and care from her customers who frequent her. Although she admits that she goes through a gush of mixed emotions, she has learnt the art of numbing her feelings and finding joy in the little things around her – as simple as wearing someone else’s shoes. Within minutes, Pinky was busy answering calls from her customers and did not seem interested in me or my shoes anymore. She left me sitting on a bench wondering what her world is like. She definitely did not belong to the brothel but she was convinced that there was no way out for girls like her. She roams around the red light area like prey that has already surrendered its life to the predator who is too big to fight . Perhaps my few minutes in her shoes rocked my core being to the extent that my encounter with her has now become one of the most unforgettable moments of my life.
As I walked back through the alleys and took a closer look at the painted expressionless faces, I could see an out-pour of hopelessness, fear and anxiety. Behind every painted face is a story that got them into the murky world – some have been pushed into the trade by poverty, abuse and desperation while some others are trapped and tricked into the trade by pimps. Whatever the reason, they live a life that is frightening, controlled and misused by the business-owners, abused by violent customers and become victims of the corrupt system. Rape, abuse, violence and many other crimes are a daily occurrence that is considered part of a normal routine.
Alcohol and drugs add a rosy haze to everything – a crutch that many of them rely on to make life bearable. Though outwardly, they seem to have dressed to attract customers, a closer look at their faces communicate the contrary.
This issue of commercial sex work, abuse, human trafficking and violence against women is a global phenomenon. Looking through Pinky’s eyes, I wonder what it would take to empower young women like her to stand up for justice and change. I wonder what it would take to fight the giant predators rather than surrendering. There are several individuals and social entities that have been combating violence against women, but for many, the situation of hopelessness remains.
However, I believe a change to this situation begins at our homes, our work places and our spheres of influence. Educating our children to respect women will set the bar high on women’s safety and protection. Every act of respect for man and woman is one step closer to making our society a safer place.
Every fight against injustice is worth the risk, worth the love and worth the cost. Let us stand up for Justice, Equality and Change.
This international anti trafficking day we remember Pinky, and all those children trafficked whose stories are like hers.