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This author expresses her despair on the flesh trade racket busted recently in New Delhi. However, she has hope for a brighter tomorrow.
This author expresses her despair on the flesh trade racket busted in New Delhi recently. However, she has hope for a brighter tomorrow.
A couple of days back, there was news flashing in media channels, concerning a flesh trade racket. The flesh trading racket was busted in a very posh area, of our country’s capital city. It was running and flourishing since 25 years. 25 years! Unnoticed, unseen! Can you believe it? I cannot. More than 5000 girls were pushed in this brothel and were exploited like animals, physically, emotionally and mentally.
They were held captive in a four feet square space, which they called a room. In my words, they were caves, where breathing was heavier than running a family of a dozen, single handedly. Think of the most beautiful place, you have visited in your lifetime. Now you are abandoned, and held captive in a place with no money and no food. Feeling lost. These girls have been undergoing this feeling, since a lifetime. Abandoned, lost, lifeless.
Running a brothel, is a heinous crime in our country. We have heard this numerous times. But what do we do, to help it stop, nothing. Are we unaware of the fact or are we oblivious? A riot of thoughts was storming within me, while watching this news. Anger, helplessness, grieve all in that moment. Later at night, while catching up with some sleep, I drifted in the lanes of those houses shown in the news report. Narrow, dark, suffocating. I heard a voice, muttering, “What will I do if I am free?” The other murmured, “I am clueless”.
It was sad and depressing, yet a tiny touch of optimism was there. “May be, rehabilitation!” said another voice. The first voice echoed, “Who will want us now, family, society, who?” This voice was hopeless, lifeless. She was walking towards the window. “Hey, why are you walking up there? No, you are not deserted or forsaken. There is hope, gather your soul out of this darkness.” I was almost yelling these to her, but no one heard me. No police, no media, nobody.
I woke up drenched, in sweat and tears. I cried my heart out unable to bear the pain of their lifetime, in those few moments of my dream. Soothing myself, I went back to bed, anticipating a better tomorrow. Tomorrow, where such incidents will be just a crime and no question of willingness. Tomorrow, where the exploited will not be looked down upon. Tomorrow, a sunshine tomorrow!
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A researcher, an advocate of equal rights, homemaker, a mother, blogger and an avid reader. I write to acknowledge my feelings. I am enjoying these roles. read more...
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The Muse of the Month is a monthly writing contest organised by Women’s Web, bringing you original fiction inspired by women.
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