Sathya Saran visits a model brothel in Budhwarpeth where young girls like Shalini speak of a happy life freely chosen and led under the active care of local NGOs. But the sex trade offers few guarantees. Her eyelashes have been painted with mascara. Her nails are shiny pink, lips outlined carefully in brown, and there is a faint blush on her cheeks. Shalini, to give her a name not her own, lives on the second floor of a shabby building in Budhwarpeth , Pune.
To her, it is home. Others call it a brothel. I can't help but wonder what lives are these girls fleeing that makes this kind of existence preferable? The lane that leads into the brothel is like any other except for the painted women standing outside their doors. We climb tiny stairs that are spiced with the smell of frying garlic from the tea and snack stall on the ground floor.
The room is small, the walls lined with a row of laminated wooden seats lines. Thick red curtains make neon lighting necessary even in the afternoon. There is an ornate, overdone false ceiling and arches curve over the doorways The 'girls' have just woken up, their morning starts around eleven. Some wear jewellery, others sport watches. We journalists are here on invitation from an NGO team.
All of them look alternately curious and shy as we try to engage them in conversation. At the door, the Madame, genial and smiling, her ears and arms bedecked with gold holds guard, wards off clients, so we can remain undisturbed. Shalini does not fit the popular image of an exploited sex worker. Though her eyes seem shy, her speech is bold. Shalini studied up to the fourth class, but knew she would not find work easily in her town.
She jumped on a train to Pune, and came straight to Budhwarpeth, where she approached the Madame who confirmed that she was here of her own free will, and not a minor.
