Life in the red light area of Kolkata.

Shabana is a tough old bird. She has no time for sentimental musings. If what she has to say sounds glib to you, that's your problem. This is knowledge she has gained after running her business for 32 odd years. She speaks from her experience, what men ask for, what they want, what sells.

Our meeting happened almost accidentally. A friend and I wanted to speak to the ‘Kumars’ in ‘Kumarpara’ at Kalighat - the craftsmen who make the idols for religious festivals and the ones who make the ‘bhars’ - the earthen pots in which tea is served at stalls in Kolkata. Faced with two parallel lanes, we entered one. We barely went five steps, when a drunk, stoned woman in tattered rags whispered to my friend, “This is a bad place. Don’t go.” We went.

Houses leaned into each other along a narrow lane. Women stood in line, waiting to collect water from the municipal supply. Children played cricket. Drunk men, loitering, smoking beedis and cigarettes. The doors of all the houses were wide open, for an important reason I would learn in due time.

Ladies of the night (and day)

Ladies of the night (and day). Image source: onmogul.com

Related: The Biggest Whorehouse In Mumbai, An Irani Restaurant That Serves Beer, And A Mistake Not To Be Made Again.

No one spoke to us as we walked on. On our way back, a lady stopped me and asked who I was. And what I was doing there. And so I found myself sitting on a rickety stool, smoking and chatting with a madam. For some reason she took a liking towards me and asked me into her home. Her grand-daughter was getting married two days later. While we waited to congratulate the bride, we were served samosas and chai. In due course, we said our goodbyes. But before we left she invited us to her wedding.

A wedding invitation seemed as good a reason to go back as any. So, with a box of sweets in hand, I returned. The lady of the house remembered me and treated me as graciously as did every other guest. I had a lot of fun at the wedding. The food was delicious. I spent a lot of time with them and became pretty well acquainted with most of the women and men who work for her.

Family that preys together

Family that preys together. Image source: backchina.com

And one day, I plucked up the courage to ask her how she got into this line of work. She wasn’t fazed by the question. She thought long and hard, not because she was ashamed or angry. But because one doesn’t discuss the tools of the trade if one is a smart businesswoman.

Her father owned the house that she now runs. Her mother worked for him. The second of five siblings, she took over the business after her father passed away. In her words, she was the only one who knew how to run it. The fact that brothels run by women function very differently from when they are run by men, is something she reiterates often. In that one lane there are 17 brothels, big and small. Only 2 are run by women, including this one.

Having given birth multiple times before she turned twenty-five, she stopped working after her father’s death. The grand-daughter whose wedding I attended was born to her youngest son with a girl who worked for her. She started working at the age of twelve.

Related: Busting Child Prostitution In Varanasi - 101 Underground

Who's next?

Who's next? Image source: brainremind.com

Although it’s mostly women who work for her as prostitutes, there are two transgenders (they get a lot of threesome requests). The men of the house work as pimps or do minimum wage jobs as laborers or venders. The house is never quiet; there is always a flurry of people coming in and out. It sounds clichéd but you could be forgiven if you mistook it for a big joint family. Competition is fierce, with the number of turns a girl has worked in a day being chalked out on a blackboard. Snitching about each other, shouting, screaming, calling them names.

Indian or western?

Indian or western? Image source: Flickr.com

But there is also a deep sense of protection. The doors of the houses are open, because they are places to hide. To hide, when they don’t want to work. So that if things get too heated or out of hand, they can rush in to sort it out. Not that they are afraid of the men they service. Once men cross that threshold, they relinquish their power completely. They may be paying for sex. They may be paying for rough sex, where they think they can exert their power. But the girls know what you paid for, and if you cross the line you’ll pay for it with more than cash. It could mean a public beating or never being able to find service in that lane or being blacklisted from the area.

It’s been a long wait

It’s been a long wait. Image source: YouTube.com

A couple of months ago, a girl was booked by a pimp for a home visit (much like doctors, this comes at a premium). The girls get to dress up, go someplace nice-ish, have better food. The girlfriend experience of sorts. Not quite like an escort service, but similar. The pimp and Shabana agreed on a day’s service with two men. One of the men brought his son along. The pimp lost his commission. Siblings, parents, family members - they don't take these things lightly.

When I asked her about the use of condoms and contraceptives, her answers were practical and unapologetic. Contraceptive is a fairly new concept to them. The use of condoms is a choice they leave to the men. In her experience, teenage boys, younger men of this generation are more insistent on protected sex than her older clientele.

Related: Football Stars Of Sonagachi | 101 Heartland

Pregnancies, when they do occur, are either aborted or kept, depending on the woman’s age. The children are raised and educated in the house. Most of the girls grow up to join the profession, some boys stay back, some don’t. The ones who leave, never return. With families of their own, they hardly acknowledge their origins.

Following in their mothers’ footsteps

Following in their mothers’ footsteps. Image source: jauns.lv

Girls from poorer families are brought in from the streets. Girls no one wants, who have no one in their lives, who can’t be fed, find shelter here. The children born within the house attend the local government school. The children who come off the streets, beg at the ghats and the temple nearby. And after a certain age, start working at the brothel.

They work for as long as they can. An orifice is an orifice after all. Most women don’t make it to old age. They drink too much, smoke too much. But the ones who do, have limited options. They can beg on the streets, con strangers or have others work for them. Shabana’s younger sister cons strangers on Park Street in Kolkata. She tells them that she gives refuge to stray dogs and cats and asks for funds to do her work. On a good day, she comes back with close to four hundred bucks.

When I ask Shabana if she would ever consider leaving it all behind and doing something else, her answer is indignant, “This is my home. I am smart, so why would I lie and beg for my bread and butter?”

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are independent views solely of the author(s) expressed in their private capacity and do not in any way represent or reflect the views of 101India.com.

By Neha Sen
Cover photo credit: askdiverged.cf