Good for Nothing-13

(this part is the sequel to Good for nothing -12)

Kolkata-The city of joy- gifted a morning of joy to me as Pawwa’s phone call woke me up first thing in the morning and I could guess well before picking up the phone what he wanted to say. But there was much more than I expected.

            “Get ready. We will do some sight seeing, an afternoon trip on River Ganges on a boat, and then metro ride, some window shopping at Dharamtalla and by 4 pm we have to reach Shona Gachchi . 4-6pm should be the right time keeping in mind that sun sets by half past six and I want to get the hell out of there well before that”.

            “Whatever you say boss. Any special preparation for this special trip boss?” I criticized him.

            “Nothing as such. Just don’t carry anything in your hand today - not even your purse. I’ll carry the cash. And no extra heavy make up please”, he sounded serious.

            “I never put any makeup, for your kind information”, I snapped. “And I know very well where you are going to stash all your currencies…I am not gonna touch a single penny today”

            “That’s better then. Get ready lazy bone! I’ll be there within 15 mins. flat”

            “Fine” I made a face and put the phone. “These boys! ... Never allow them to dominate you or else they start consider themselves as your legal guardian”, I thought as I took bath and dressed up for the day.

            “What is this?” Pawwa looked clearly upset at me the moment I stepped out of the Ladies Hostel.

            “What is what?”

            “This dress…looks so cheap. Can’t you wear something decent? Don’t you know where we are going?”

            “Tell me what’s wrong with this one?” I got irritated.

            “Nothing….every thing is fine…Sleeveless transparent top with low waist Capri and halter neck Bra peeping thru all the sides….nonsense…Do you think you are on for a stroll on some beach in Bombay?...Go and change into something more decent and simple…understand”

            I started boiling inside….humiliations…nobody had ever dare to do so…pointing at my style of dressing…but I preferred to swallow the disgrace and returned for a change…eyes red with rage and foot thumping hard on the concrete flooring…so much so just for the reason that I want him to be at my side for that Shona Gachchi trip….

            “That’s better…much better…”. I allowed him to grip my hand as he waved to a passing cab. “Indian traditional dresses carry a sense of respect embroidered into it…people tend to do all kinds of x-ray scan with those lewd penetrating look especially when someone is attired with that kind of revealing outfit….I hope you don’t mind me being so blunt….I feel like extricate the eyeballs out of their sockets of those who stare at you 

“Why?”, I stared him eye to eye.

“Actually it hurts a lot when someone looks at you in such way…”

“Why?”, I repeated innocently.

“I don’t know why…Now listen carefully. We can’t say the cab driver to drop us at Shona Gachchi…I mean it’s so awkward …so I have drafted a plan. After all sightseeing we’ll go to College Street again and catch the bus to Salt Lake as we did yesterday. As we pass thru Shona Gachchi, we’ll simply get down. Isn’t it a great idea?”

“Ya…greatest idea of all times….do whatever you want”, I had approve his ideas, beggars are not choosers!...and we did likewise.

It was half past four when we got down there. The scene was almost like the previous day, except that the crowd was heavier.

 “Holiday….today is Sunday” Pawwa explained. “Now listen very carefully”, he was back into his guardian’s coat. “We will stick to one main corridor. Don’t try to enter into side lanes, they might be dangerous. I don’t know how long it would be but we will try to get out of here in an hour. Behave as if you are looking for an address. I have already scrolled this one on a piece of paper and obviously it is wrong. But we should look like tourists who have lost their way. Understand? And I don’t want to see none of your usual tantrums and heroics…”

“Ok… sir!” I was the most obedient child on the universe that day.

And with a pounding heart which was quite audible outside, we left the main road and entered into the broadest street with the piece of paper in our hand as if we were looking for an address. The jamboree of girls was thicker than the main road and they were attired in different outfit - some in Indian and others in western- but all with vibrating, loud and harsh color combination. The make up was basic but too thick. All the herds were usually accompanied by a male appeared to be their leader (the pimp-Pawwa later clarified). Trucks of beer cartons were being unloaded, small flower kiosks were surrounded by anxious buyers of GAZRA, a few giggling girls were running after a crazy looking boy (or a eunuch!) probably for their share of money, two policemen loitering around proudly, small tea and food stalls were mostly deserted, the stink of clogged drain and overflowing manholes at places were enough to initiate puking, everyone seem busy yet very casually roaming here and there. The first floor balconies were filled with similar looking girls- their torsos rested on the handrail and contour of their assets perfectly demonstrated to attract the onlookers-live human mannequins! They were even gesturing and winking at those who looked them eye to eye. I could guess from their look they were from all the parts of India but mainly the North –Eastern dominated others by sheer number and fair color.

“Ki Dada boshbe na ki?...(brother …won’t you have a seat)” a grunting voice disturbed my concentration and turned sharply. A man was adressing Pawwa who was trying unsuccessfully to jostle himself off.

“Ki holo dada…bhalo maal achhe…(what happened bro...I have excellent stuff”, the man was displaying something like a diary in his hand.

“Address...address...ami address.jigesh karchhi (I am asking for correct address)”, Pawwa replied in a broken Bengoli which made me laugh too.

“Let’s have a seat”, I intervened. “I am too tired”

“NOOOO….” He almost shouted at me, caught my hand roughly and pulled me to a side “You dumbo!...why don’t you understand….he was asking whether I am interested for a quickie….and you said yes….bewakoof…”

“oh…sorry…”. But he was visibly upset with me. “And what was there in his hand?”

“That was an album….photos of  call-girls of his group…NOW WILL YOU PLEASE SHUP YOURSELF UP”

“Let’s have a cup of coffee there”, I pleaded pointing at a coffee outlet nearby. Almost two hrs without coffee was too much for me.

“Dada …coffee…special…du tow…chalu cholbe na ( two coffee..special …not ordinary)” Pawwa ordered.

“hein…special achhey na….debo….bosun bosun ( I’ll serve you special one…please have a seat)” the coffeewala answered.

“Na…na…ami boshbo na (no thanks…I won’t sit)”...Pawwa was afraid of ‘sitting’ at the coffee counter too!

And there I saw Pawwa smoking for the first time. “I never know you smoked…doesn’t suits your face after all” I said casually. “Can I have one puff too?”

“Why not Miss Bond. In a place like this, it will surely suit your cause”

“Why are you so rough today….can’t you speak soft…it was just a joke…”. He killed my mood and I lost my interest. The half an hour that we spent in that coffee shop was almost silent-both of us preoccupied in our thought. I marked a small kid of about 6 years old stood besides us for quite some time just doing nothing. Probably a beggar, I thought. I tried to give him a dry Rusk which he refused and pointed at the jars kept on the wooden counter of the coffeewala. I put my hand in one of the glass jars and shelled out few candies and passed on to the kid. He gave me broadest of his smiles and disappeared. After few minutes he reappeared with a smaller kid on his tow, his younger brother probably and directly came to me and tugged my chunni softly.

“Is he your brother?”, I asked as I passed few candies to both of them.

“No he is my friend Kalu. See he has a big black mole on his back” and he turned the back of kalu towards me to show his black mole. Really it was big.

“How many friends do you have? Call all of them. I’ll give candies to all of you.”

“Really? I’ll just go and call them”. He sprinted as fast as he could and within no time came back with almost ten kids running behind him. I distributed candies among them and soon they become friendly with me.

“Do you go to school, kids? Tell me your names and which class do you read –one by one- first sit in a round circle here”

“I am Khokon” one of them replied. “And I use to go to school earlier. Now I am in a large school where I don’t go”

“Why? You should go to school. What do you do all the day?”

“When I was in small school, our school teacher used to give us food everyday”. I could guess he was talking about mid-day meals provided in government primary schools. “But now they are not giving me anymore. They tell I have grown up and I have to go to bigger school. I don’t go there. I love playing football with my friend. I play in forward position. Kalu is our goalkeeper. I scored three goals today. And I also work.”

“What do you do?” I was thoroughly enjoying the conversation with kids. More so as I was distracted away from the irritating behavior of Pawwa.

“I sell these. Do you want any? Five Rupees each…” I looked at him anxiously as he put his hand inside his pocket and came out with few sachets of condom. “For you four rupees only. You are a good friend”

“Do you know what this is?”, I enquired.

“Yes I know.” Khokon said proudly, rest of them shook their head. “It is white colored big balloon with a long nose. Big men play with them.”

“I also know. It is sooooo…biiiiggggg” I curly haired dark girl of about five years old stood up spreading both her arms as wide as she could. “You can put buckets of water in it and even then it does not break. I also have one” and quickly she brought out a used condom from the pocket of her frock and offered me. “Take it didi…this is free for you”

“No thanks….I don’t want….this is dirty thing ….throw it”

“No….this is good…look how big it becomes”, and before I could object she started inflating it like a balloon. And suddenly rest of the kids started shouting and clapping in unison. “We also know it…..we also know…” and within no time all of them brought out condoms from their pockets and started inflating them. Probably they could not recognize it earlier in the hand of Khokon as it was packed in a sachet.

“Hey….hey …what you all are doing here…” the deafening voice of the stall owner interrupted. For the last 20 min or so he had left the stall to distribute tea to nearby shopkeepers. He lunged at the small gathering, visibly upset, with the kettle in his hand. The kids disappeared in no time.

“Sorry Didi…ae chhele gulo khub bodmash (the kids are too naughty)”

“Don’t you advice them to go to school”

“Who will tell them….almost all of them are bastards….who cares for them…the girls will grow up to become whores and the boys will become their pimps….it is their destiny”

“And what are your children doing?”

“They are with my sister in village….after my wife eloped with a regular customer of my coffee shop 4 years ago….this atmosphere itself is filthy, it pollutes your soul”

We left from Shona Gachchi soon after. I could not sleep properly that night Does the ‘atmosphere’ have that power to corrupt your soul and then alter the meaning of your existence itself? Can’t anything be done for those less privileged kids? To wipe out prostitution from the face of this earth is too big a thing, but there is lot left to do in that arena- like keeping check on force prostitution, illegal trafficking, spreading awareness on safe sex practice among prostitutes, social upliftment of their children, etc. For years I dwelled on these thought but could not do any thing practically. I started gathering in formation from magazines, newspapers and NGOs. No news on them left my attention. I observed how prostitutes united and made themselves referred as “SEX-WORKERS”. I saw them agitating against government policy and fought hard unsuccessfully for legalization of prostitution in some states.

Later, when I shifted to Delhi, I got this opportunity to join NAVJYOTI DRUG DEADDICTION AND REHABILITATION CENTRE, a NGO ran by Delhi police under the able guidance of IPS officer Kiran, the CRANE, Bedi. With them I visited GB Road, the red light area of Delhi, number of times and did my little bit for the children of that area. We ran schools for them, started tailoring, typing and computer classes for girls and boys. We organized Health camps, where along with distributing medicines, I tried to counsel them and equip them with knowledge of safe sexual practices. Lot of the persons who benefited from us later joined in our endeavor as volunteers. It is so soothing to eyes when I see hard core criminals, sex-workers and drug addicts converting themselves and transforming into devoted volunteers. Children of sex-workers are now more interested in studies thanks to the efforts put by their now aware mothers. Still there is lot to do. Lack of funds, social inhibitions and reluctance of so-called high society peoples to involve themselves are few hindrances which are to look upon.

 But I still remember that day very clearly when Pawwa took this good for nothing girl, a trip to Shona Gachchi which later helped her to become good for something. I learned the lesson of my life- environment and the surroundings have little effect on your true self. If you wish you can do good Karmas everywhere. Do the bit whatever you can, and you won’t forget the thrill for rest of your life my Friends. We always do our part for Our Parents, Our children, Our friends and Neighbors and for those who matter for us. But occasionally try to give some time for them who mean nothing for us. Form your own group of like-minded friends and visit those places of less privileged ones. There is a lot that we can do. Soft hearts and soft hands are the only basic qualification that you are required to possess, and that’s all.