Random Thoughts

‘Green by the day, red by the night’, is what they call me…..!!

‘Random thought(s)’ is something that your attention strikes to all of a sudden and leaves you in sort of a trance for a while, at least for some considerable amount of time to actually make you think seriously to write about it. It adds another dimension to you as it newly opens the horizon of new thoughts that you might be capable of directing your mind to. On that note, today I am going to deviate from the usual and trying to explore a completely new and different area as it came to my mind very much unintentionally, and quite randomly. Inspiration for this was a moving picture during the idle hours after lunch on one of my weekend holidays. I felt so strong an urge to speak about it that I immediately turned to the digital media to do some basic research before heading for it. The topic might seem to be a common one to some and probably many out there are working on this particular area having various angles of thoughts of their own. But, I stuck to the idea of articulating my views from a completely different perspective. So, having been confirmed on the topic, I subsequently started looking out for a unique way to write. I finally decided this time to adopt a style of an autobiography.  One thing is still puzzling me; I am confused as to what should be the language for this piece of write up. After a tough wrestle between Hindi (because I thought certain emotions would best be conveyed through it) and English (because I think I am better versed and more comfortable in it), I finally stuck to the foreign language sensing that I better brush up my Hindi literary skills a bit more before getting exposed publicly (….wink :-P :-P). So, now I am all set to come directly to the actual task without wasting any more time.

*** (P.S. - It is just about speaking my mind; putting out the exact feeling or thoughts that I got that day while watching the movie to a larger audience to think on – if not on my line but at least on their own ways. It is certainly not meant to contradict anyone else’s stand, criticizing anyone and hurting anybody’s feelings. As of now I am not sure enough as to how fairly this is going to turn out.) Let’s see….Here it goes!!

!!!   Today, I am going to speak about myself; the myriad of experiences gathered through the course of time; about certain (Human) Beings who have been surviving on me for years and years. It is a Place – apparently quite a commonplace but has a very unique, very special and very unusual impression instilled. I was born out of two basic instincts of man – first is the need to fill up their empty stomach & survive their destiny and the second one is to quench an eternal thirst. Both of these two things have been coexisting here in my life in a symbiotic relationship years after years after years. I have seen them reforming, renaming, re-emerging over time. Which is why I probably existed in the human society for long – not sure of the exact beginning but in history. I have become a part and parcel or better say the heart of the metropolis,  small & big cities and mega-cities but still a taboo is attached to my name and it, whenever is spoken of, surely raises eyebrows, brings a taunting smile at the corner of lips. I am that part of the society where people come to survive but I am still a forgotten part of the daily normal life of them. I am not counted in the so called rich, affluent, civilized human society and pushed aside into the silence of darkness. When the whole world jostles for their livelihood in crowded buses and trains, streets and markets, I lead a colorless and quite fake busy life too with crowd gathering at the markets, shops, cinema/theatre halls, kids running here and there with their school dresses on, men discussing business and so on. But, the made-belief normal exterior though has something so that the very mention of me or a glance at me surely ‘captures the decent, curious from a distance eyes and its imagination’ (pun intended). My day/life starts when the rest of the world around returns home at night, slips under the secured blanket of homely care. When the world sleeps, I dress up - in colorful lights; I am crushed under thousands of unstable feet and sleazy men; my infamous streets are bejeweled with all decked up dolls/beauties who are otherwise invisible from the day life. The balconies of the small cages housed here are lined up with garishly made up shining and smiling faces, sensuous gestures arrowed towards its potential viewers. The rooms are filled with people drenched and intoxicated in the call of those two basic instincts - its air inside stinks and becomes hazier with every passing hour. It feels dizzy, smells gin-soaked and sounds filthy. This initial introduction, I am sure, is able to evoke the right sense amongst all of you reading it out there and I know that you could smell the rat already. Ahh hah..!! Ladies and gentlemen - are you embarrassed ? Do I see a taunting smile on your lips or an unapprovingly shocked look in your eyes from here? My dear modern, educated, sensible audience of my story, I would suggest you kindly not to freak out so early. Because there is still quite a long way you have to travel with me till the actual essence is brought out. So, kindly keep on reading as I am going to reveal my name next (out of the closet of your strangely beating heart). Believe me, even my heart pounds and my body shudders as I am going to be personified by a name.  I am a by product of the much needed recreation/entertainment, that colorful, lively part of your life and the place you live in which is called by so many different names: the Red light areas or the brothels or ‘jism-faroshi ka bazaar’ (the places where beauty/body is bargained for money and pleasure) , which is associated with something the “Indian traditional culture” quivers at – sex. Having said that, I must confess the fact that this particular introduction to my whole existence fills me with a nerve wracking feeling – that is inexplicable.

As mentioned earlier, here life starts at dusk; when the hustle-bustle of shops, markets and restaurants comes to the day’s end, the goddesses of this life emerge in their actual ‘avatars’(appearance/form). These women are popularly known as the ‘sex workers or prostitutes’. They are clad in bright colorful dresses wearing heavy make up on their faces – dark hair sometimes knotted and sometimes laid down like the darkness of night is falling over their back/ or chest, dark or hazel bright eyes meticulously drawn with ‘kajal’- sparkling and shining eagerly; lips are fuller and resembles rose petals. In a word in that pick hour of the day they appear as true epitome of goddesses – not some celestial one but the goddesses of pleasure and entertainment, capable of luring those hundreds of feet  – from different background, that come here. The ‘dance’ bars start getting crowded more and more as time passes by, small rooms upstairs are more frequented as every hour passes on. People laugh, drink, dance and get soaked in the crazy insobriety - liquor, money and the lustful excitement, all blended together. Men buy their pleasure from here – sometimes out of curiosity for the restricted/tabooed, sometimes driven by frustration of their routine lives, sometimes just for fun and time-pass. And those women sell it all for money – they master the flesh business. AND they are not ashamed of what they do – not even a bit because it’s their profession. This is what, the color RED signifies – beauty, love, lust, sexuality. 
" Doesn’t it sound VULGAR? Yes, of course it does. When in a society, women and their sexuality have been revered and worshiped since time immemorial and their ‘stridharma’ (wifely duties such as being chaste and faithful to their husbands) has been held high for ages, how these women can even think to get into such obscenity? " This is the very normal thought that comes to the mind of decent women who do not go there and everyone else who makes up this society – including, strangely though, even those who are the worshipers of these ‘goddesses’. As a result of this instilled scurrilous feelings, I am so distastefully considered as the ‘pleasure district’. In the day people can easily get lost in the normalcy of everyday life and its buzz - the busy roads, diverseness of trades. All these seemingly pure and clean can be represented by the color GREEN. But, an unmentionable something about this area certainly affects its reputation. So, here it becomes clear to me why the title “Green by the day, red by the night” holds true. 

From this very point let me take a sharp turn and take you to another dimension of the story told so far. To few, it may seem less interesting, monotonous; few might think that the story has lost its pace and excitement and did not remain the same as it started out to be. But, as I, so blatantly characterized them in a certain way, it seems a duty for me to light up the other side of these midnight’s children as well. And coming to the excitement part, I would rather leave that up to my readers to decide: whether the story is meant to be EXCITING or a food for thought...?? 




While narrating up to this point I was knocked by the question several times: whether anyone out there has ever stumbled over the thought to look at the other side of the coin? Being the cradle to the pleasure business, I am probably the best one to guide readers through the insiders’ tale – wrapped and protected under the grandeur of the cover story told so far, so smartly that your eyes would be dazzled and mind swept away in its sensuousness barring your conscience to think.   

" This business thriving on my shoulder is said to be one of the oldest businesses in the world. This pleasure industry existed as a symbol of society’s underbelly for centuries and I have been a sole witness of the lights as well as the darkness hidden behind. When the outside world, scrutinize and look down upon, I open heartedly embrace my people – the women who sell themselves and GET SOLD. If you glance through my eyes you would probably sense a striking contrast between what is seen and what is not and the conjectures would fall short for themselves.

I see hundreds and thousands of small girls - with their childlike innocence, and women of different ages enter this ‘fourth world’ (I use this term to signify the alienated situation of this society and its people) – where human body is put on auction and entertain the lustful clients – sometimes double & sometimes half of their age. I see wives and mothers of small children sleeping with numerous other men at every single hour of their working hours. Apparently it’s for money but where do this money go?  It goes to fill the empty stomach of their families, to provide proper education and respectful lives to their children, to treat their ailing parents, and to add to the household economy out of their husbands’ demand. I am full of depravity born out of poverty, and hunger.  Here, in front of my eyes young girls are sold out for money by their parents – helpless parents probably drowned under the pressure of debts. Young girls are lured into the business from different parts of the world giving false hope and fake promises to provide a better life. Once in, their life becomes trapped in this black hole of the society no one knows for how many lifetimes – may be generation after generation. Those once ‘Born in the Brothels’, die here only. The world may wonder why do they have to choose this profession when there are so many other stuffs to do; why don’t they move out and lead a decent life? My answer to them is – do you really think your world is a bed of roses, a safe heaven for my children to live freely? ‘NO’ - I believe. As mentioned earlier I am born out of helplessness. Like every normal human being my daughters also dreamt of a “DECENT’ life; but their destiny played villain. Like every other woman in the society they too dream to get education, fall in love & get loved, get married, have a happy family, get some decent respectful jobs. But, when the world has closed all doors on their face, they opted for the last window of opportunity i.e. selling themselves ( their body) instead of getting into any crime as this was the best left option for them - not out of choice but out of necessity. When I say they are trapped in a vicious cycle, I mean to convey the most obvious incidents of ‘women/girls getting Assaulted, Molested, Raped by the moral gatekeepers of your society to whom they go for refuge, for help and support’ because these are ‘PROSTITUTES – for whom those three words are inapplicable’. Thus they are thrown back into my lap and they learn to survive out of no choice. The harsh reality is that they although work for money, are actually puppets in the hands of the pimps and their owners. They have to perform harder in order to live. Each and every moment they are being put on new deals without their permission or will. They are even sacrificed to the risk of deadly diseases for money.

Now, let me put forth a few questions for you people to at least think-----------Does anyone of you have that vision to see through the fake exterior these women put on every night? Are your ears strong enough to overhear the agony within the vampirish laughter they break into? Are your senses sensible enough to feel the coldness in their eyes and numbness in their touche even when they go on seducing you? Are you wise enough, to understand them? My girls, my women strive to make people happy at cost of their own. Serve them to fulfil their desires - sometimes wild like beasts; they dance, drink, put themselves in the market but is there a single person who actually look into their hearts? No one, I presume but ME; starting from the time when I opened my arms to shelter them, I became the sole watcher of their journey. Only I can vouch that it is never their soul that they put on to the open auction. They too have a heart – that pains when it’s hurt, skips a beat when it loves, resist all odds to the sake of their family and close ones, feels happy and proud when something good happens to their children. Only I can see the excruciating pain tearing their hearts apart each time they entertain a new client. Every moment they let their clients in, I see their heart and soul lying with their husbands, praying for their children or parents; I hear them taking secret vows to work even harder for that extra penny which may keep their own children away and save them from this, drama. Drama, I call it because only I can feel the unseen pain and bruises hidden underneath their made up avatar (appearance) and often try to heal them with my air and water. Only I look past the fake-ness in those loud smiles they put on to keep the crying heart inside unheard; fake-ness of their identity – every one here is a stranger. No one who come here is bothered at the least for their (real) names, background – their story; the only thing that speaks the loudest here is MONEY. There prevails an eternal sadness, a deafening silence behind those external colours, there is loneliness even among the crowd. These women protect nothing but their souls from this infection all around. I know that they did never want to come to this walk of life. Like millions others out there in the civilized society, they also dreamt of a sweet home garnered with care and love; they too dream like all common mothers out there to give their children the best of life, see them at the top – getting education in ENGLISH SCHOOLs, and settled as a teacher, doctor, engineer, lawyer – probably all the best things possible in the world but away from all this filth, and nasty garbage. But, then again I observe those dreams getting ruined as the sand palaces, crashed under the cruel reach of their fate. I see tears rolling down their faces silently as they get used on the false promises of marriage from their (fake) lovers, as they lose hope of getting true love ever in their lives, as they are sold by their husbands on the first wedding night to a stranger, as they dream of getting married to a prince wearing costly garments, jewellery sitting in lavish cars but still hearing people calling them ‘BAZAARI AURAT’(saleable women), as they see their children getting back into the same profession and lifestyle because they are born into it and rejected even by the destiny. My daughters, my women who sell the most precious ornament they possess – i.e. their sexuality to the hunger of the society, are left to death with me – a congested, unhygienic, place plagued with deadly diseases, hunger, scarcity of water and sanitation. I wonder how the world and the lawmakers, the moral police of religion and society – who too partake of its pleasure and profits, turn a blind eye to them and put on a veil of misjudged notions; for them sex is an obvious thing of pleasure but that is carefully buried under the public, political and religious morality. I stand alone and stare in deep silence to the world which spends and celebrates crores of rupees in admiring the classics of Pakeezah, Umrao Jaan when the actual Chandramukhis and Chamelis  are thrown aside  as if they are the insects born out of hell to invade the purity and sanctity of the society.

 Brothels and the Prostitutes has always been part of the human society and will continue to be but without being in an integration !!!