Kamala Budhathoki ‘Sarup’
Published in UPI Asia news (Blog), Opednews.com, newsblaze.com, mediaforfreedom.com, webcommentary.com, Nolanchart.com.
I wrote this diary about my friend. Actually after returning
from Prostitute Brothel, my first meeting with her began the strange
day for me. In a way, every day I have been meeting a person or the
other. Whatever it may be, among those I met at this moment she is a
bit different from other and, in fact, this is an important in our
friendship.
It's not that I am trying to keep this day separate from others from
the expected thought of other things. I am not trying either to
interpret the concept of the philosopher that people live in their own
ways. Whatever it may be, in this situation of tension I am delighted
to have met this friend. She told me "The large city of prostitute
brothel which is terrifying to look at with its tall buildings, I felt
as if everyone who lived inside felt satisfied and they quenched their
hunger. I don't like even to remember. I was buried in my mind's inner
conflict of that really. Due to the compulsion to sell my body every
evening, all the time within me an unknown fear, terror and fright
created an empire of its own.
I felt restless at my living; I
was disgusted every moment with that kind of life. The notorious
brothel where I was living was a place where thousands of girls like me
had to sell their bodies for cheap prices. How hard and full of
terror was to live in that environment! When I think of it, my heart
trembles even today. Although the pain within me had another chief
reason and that was the memory never left me. Almost always I
remembered my village. The mountains, the waterfalls and the forests
that extended far and wide looked as hard as life itself with them
uphill and downhill filled with the crowds.
She further added " My mother had a dream exactly like mine that her
daughter would get some education by going to the city and could stand
on her own to make her living. But I was brought to this terrible
brothel and was sold by my own uncle's son. I was sold, and I came to
know later that it was a brothel where thousands of girls were sold and
they were forced to sell their bodies for a small amount of money. In a
place where the human vultures spend money to play foul with raw flesh
and the prestige of one was ruined just for a handful of coins, how
could I survive in a place such as that? My heart was filled with
depression, but I was unable to express any of my feelings to anybody
because the trade of female bodies was found from big lodges to hotels
and yellow mansions of that city.
In that place bargain of girls, selling them and turning them into
prostitutes by force inflicting untold tortures on them were just a
common incident in that environment. The rich men filled their thirst
with me everyday”.
She was obviously scared. She cried "It was a great joke that my right
over my own body was snatched away from me. Often a question tormented
me from time to time. After all, what was the real meaning of a person
to live as a woman? Was it just a means of providing cheap enjoyment
which one could have by paying money? I hated my existence as a woman
in thousands of questions. What a pity! My body was torn and snatched
out by hundreds everyday. When I saw the mistresses of brothels
surrounding me, every time I felt inferiority complex. All the males
were hungry for fulfilling their sexual passion. I felt a strong hatred
towards men. But despite the fact I had to sell my body. While she was
talking, crying and talking
"When I came to my city, I had a great imagination. My life, in fact,
was quite terrible and horrible as I had to live surrounded twenty
four hours by agents and customers. At the gates of every building
there were agents busy haggling for our bodies as if we were beasts
kept for auction. And we waited for the customers inside a very dark
and foul smelling room. Who was there to love me in that world of money
? Everywhere there were alcoholic drinks, money and only customers.
At
that time, I was completely robbed. The value of my body and of my
soul was completely depleted. But now, I have returned with the germs
of HIV in with me. Although I served the brothel for so many years. I
have gone empty now. When I have come back, I am here with empty mind
and carrying a terrible disease with me”. She said.
I asked her a lot of questions, only some of which she could answer.
She spent the time talking with me and said " After my arrival here, I
have met my old sweet heart. I found out that he hadn't got married
yet. Really, I didn't see any difference between in the past and at the
present time. He showed the same attraction, the same love and the
same restlessness to see me. At this moment, he is closer to me and I
am crying to open up some thing of life to him. To be closer to each
other is a pleasant moment. " It's definitely not easy to be alive. In
fact, life is a difficult, dangerous and unpleasant journey". She
said.
I am outside of my apartment. I am now looking at my diary. A street !
When you refer to a street you have to associate it with the crowds of
people. With the street comes the question of crowds and noise they
make. There used to be the same crowd in the street at that time and
even today. There is no decrease in the throngs of people. At this
moment I too am in the crowd of people. But, the special quality of the
street has been to remain alone. Even in the crowd except one or two
faces known sometimes remain mostly unacquainted.
I am walking on the side of this crowd without stopping. But the crowd
is increasing. "Even at this moment in this place, the crowd has been
large as at the market," an old women near me shouts. "These people are
tremendously increasing in number. Every time I am afraid that there
would be some accident. It is not safe to send children to school", she
prattles on for a long time. She pulls a small child walking beside her
and holds its friendly arm. Everybody has his own problem. Perhaps no
person is free from his or her problem. Should I have an ideal
thought like this?
I am alone in my walk and unknowingly my steps turn toward the
residence of my friend again. She was found all alone in her room.
She
shows her formality, "Come in Kamala". I go close to her and sit down.
" I have arranged a job for you in an office. You must forget your
past. Whatever may be, the criminal has been punished. Now you
shouldn't continue worrying", I told her everything in a breath.
She cried in response and said "My past has gone through such a hot
torture that the criminal's getting even a capital punishment would not
heal my wound nor the stain in my character erase, because of which
today I am suffering from HIV. He deserves to die for the shame he
brought to my life. ?"
When I hear what she told me I felt that I was sinking where I stood. I
am frightened. I am choked. I move away from the place. I don't even
like to look back. I don't know where I am going now.
Copyright kamala budhathoki sarup.
