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A client asked a pimp how much I cost, erupting in laughter. When I told my friends I would be volunteering in Kamathipura, the city’s largest red-light district, the first question they asked was, “Is that safe? At 20, I thought I was too worldly for such small-minded fears.But the only place I ever felt comfortable over my three months there was at the daily after-school program where I taught English to first-graders whose moms were sex workers.And then a synthetic black one that would dry quickly if it got wet in the monsoon.Or the flowing blue khameez with a geometric pattern of overlapping diamonds that belonged to my grandmother. When I ventured into the brothels of Falkland Road a few days later, everyone turned to stare.differently,” said my new supervisor, disdainfully running her eyes over my black capris and short-sleeve scoop-neck purple T-shirt. I went straight home and rifled through the bottom shelves of my closet, looking for my loosest, most modest salwaar khameezes.I found a full-sleeve pink-and-green one that looked about right.The lungi-clad men in the dank hallways I’d anticipated.

I was overcome by a sudden impulse to run up the spit-stained stairs and rescue Shabnam from the room on the second floor. In the taxi to the station, boarding the train and riding home in the pouring rain, I repeated, “No one will ever forgive me,” over and over.Activists say identifying routes is important to step up police vigilance in these areas but also to protect the girls who go back home after a court case, and are once again exposed to trafficking risks.'People living on the border of West Bengal and Bangladesh share the same culture, celebrate the same festivals and speak the same language - Bengali,' said Vivian Isaac of My Choices Foundation, who has mapped India's trafficking patterns.'The girls started understanding questions posed at them in courts,' said Harish Bhandari, a lawyer who fights trafficking cases in lower and district courts, where although English and Marathi are used, judges switch to Hindi to enable communication. She said she quite enjoys Hindi lessons both at the shelter and school and even has a favourite story - that of a young girl who begrudges the attention her mother gives to her baby brother.a copy of a month-old Hindi newspaper under her pillow that she regularly pulls out to read about the Bangladeshi Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina's postponed visit to India - her finger running across the words, connecting her to her homeland.I was collecting my things when Shabnam, without a raincoat or umbrella, asked, “Didi, mein ghar kaise jaon? “Bye, Didi,” she called, waving over her shoulder as she disappeared up a dark wooden staircase at a brothel called Café House.I still have a vague recollection of where it is, though in the dark, all the alleyways look the same. I gazed up the stairs into the abyss and imagined the men jeering inside with red, unfocused eyes, the businesslike madams counting cash, and the sex workers putting on a grand show with pouty lips and hips suggestively cocked to one side.Shabnam wore her hair in two thick braids, tied at the ends with red ribbons.When she grinned — her response to frequent mistakes in math homework — she revealed a large gap between her two front teeth.There was one girl, Shabnam, who always finished her work last, but the drawings on the backs of her worksheets were the most intricate.Before she colored, she studied all the crayons in the box, carefully selecting the ones she needed, lining them up in a neat row in front of her.Μάθετε περισσότερα, μεταξύ άλλων για τις διαθέσιμες δυνατότητες: Πολιτική για τα cookies.In south Mumbai’s red light districts there are an estimated 100,000 brothel-based sex workers. A high proportion of the women and girls have been sold into sex work, often by a relative or a trusted family friend; others are born into it.


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