Darshatha- the visible voice : identity

Showing posts with label identity. Show all posts

Wednesday, 8 November 2017

Yes, I am an Intersex. - II by Juhi Meshram

In continuation of 'Yes, I am an Intersex.- I'

http://www.darshatha.in/2017/10/yes-i-am-intersex.html

It was another clinic. And! I wondered why she pulled me out of one hospital just to push me into another. In last few days my whole world had turned upside down and nobody was telling me what why when. My parents wanted me to take the surgery so I did, my mother wanted me to escape it so I did, they wanted me to not ask anything so I did. But I was not a puppet, I still am not. How could anyone treat me like that. I was standing there at the middle of clinic reception and all these thoughts surrounded me all at once. I freaked out and just ran out getting rid of maa’s hand. As soon as I reached the main gate running across the garden, I felt a strong hold on my hand that stopped me. I turned to see maa. I was crying so bad that I couldn’t hear her screams. She must have held me tight because I had no control over my body. I was fighting to get out of there all at once. It is then that her words came out, “I will tell you everything, all at once.... but then you have to promise me that You will come here with me... promise?” I calmed a bit and then agreed. I had no choice. Maa took a cab to Mid-day cafe. She was continuously talking to me. At one point, I asked her, “how do I trust you... you have lied before” and she didn’t freak out at me but replied generously, “hear me first and then trust your instincts. I won’t ask you for anything then.”

The aroma of coffee and a less crowded space relaxed my body but my mind was not resting, “would you please.. now tell me...? Everything.” She ordered a sandwich and coffee first, may be she was checking on my patience and then she chose to tell me, “you were inside me and everything was normal. We didn’t know your gender but we did know about our baby. Everything was fine. Your papa gave me all the love and care. And then! You were born. And I cannot tell you how happy I was. But! Then there were some issues....mm... you are fifteen. I should tell you. Nimmi! Nimisha! When you were born, you were a normal child. You were healthy. And doctors told us that you were girl. And...”

“What do you mean they told you... I am a girl” I interrupted but she didn’t mind it.

“Hunny, how do you know You are female? How do I know? Yes there are majorly two type of bodies and the two types have different parts, different vocal quality, different genitals and different chromosome that lead to different experiences in life due to physical infrastructure. These two types are attracted towards each other. So we call them male and female. We. For our convenience. God hasn’t assigned it. God, or you can say our creator. We have named Him God. And we want these body types to behave the way we want. We call ourself society and set rules for these bodies. I could be a male and your father could be female... if the society had said so. So in that sense...you were a female. But this is how we understand humans. But we are small people and the creator has a lot to offer us. He haven’t just created these two types.... you have heard of transgenders,right? What do you know about them?” She asked me and I was so frightened, “ their gender identity is different from what they have been assigned”. She replied quickly,” perfect! This is what you have read. This is right but very brief. Like we know two body types namely male and female. But there are not just body types. Males and females brains are differently wired, their external genitals, internal, there chromosomes, everything... everything together make them what they are called. But transgenders or more specifically trans man do not have the combinations similar to normal man and a trans woman do not have everything similar to normal woman. That is why we call them that. And we don’t even accept them the way we should. This is the reason you see them begging in the traffic signal and trains. We take their blessings but don’t take them. The families they are born to, don’t accept them and leave them to do all this.”

I got her point, “If we worship our creator then we should accept all its creation including animals,birds and transgenders.” And she went excited,” exactly! And may be we are getting it all wrong. May be, there are not just two body types. Yes what we call male and female are in majority but then transgenders are not made by mistake. They are just the third type of human we don’t understand. And have you heard about LGBT?”

I was quick to reply this time,” yes... lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender”

She was happy, “great! But this is what we commonly know in india. But the whole study says it is LGBTQIA. You know the initial four and then... Queer, Intersex and Asexual.”

“What are these?”, I had entirely forgot about my problem till then.

She started again, “queer is the type of human who don’t know their gender identity or sexual orientation or both. Intersex is a whole different thing, and asexual are people who have no sexual desires. Now these are different types of human we don’t consider normal but they exist normally, to a lesser number but they do.”

“What is about Intersex people?” I questioned.

“Intersex people are born differently from what we call a regular ‘male’ or ‘female’, they might have variations of chromosome, gonads, sex harmon or genitals. The real problem in India is, we don’t even know the existence of these variations in human being, we are still struggling with accepting LGBT, that America has done decades ago. It will take time for us to understand the other Q, I and A. It’s okay to take time, but the more time we take the more they will suffer.”

I knew every bit she said was right,”the reason you are telling me all this is because I belong to one of these, Do I?” It is then that I realised we might be talking about my problem.

“Yes. Now that I told you everything that I had I should tell you about your body. So, you were born normal but with time we got to know you had some issues at least we took it that way. Your vagina had a very small opening, you were small but we decided to consult doctor. You went through some tests.... and what we got to know after that completely shocked us. You went through test to know your internals, and...” , she held my hand,”you had no ovaries and uterus, instead you had testes and you deserve to know that you still have them.” I took my hands back or my senses do that I don’t know but I was moved. But maa didn’t stop, “nimmi, you were patient and understandable when I was telling you about these people but why are you crying now when you know you are one of them” I was crying, I was crying really bad,” I don’t know... I think we behave sane only when it is not related to us, and all the other times we freak”. There was a smile in her face. She

Came to my side and kissed my forehead, “you are my intellect child, you took all this really well. I was not accepting this from you. Okay... so now you know why We didn’t tell it to you before?” I nodded.

“You will now come with me to the doctor?” I nodded again. I was still crying but I dared to ask again, “but! If... I never ever had... reproductives than... why the doctor was operating me?” She paused and I knew she was again hiding something, “ you will get to know in the clinic”

It had been an hour and I was pretty much normal till the time we reached the doctor’s chamber. “ Hi, I am Mridul. i was supposed to tell you what you are going through but you just ran away and your mother did it for me.” He was saying and it was so embarrassing for me, “so! The only thing that I can tell you know is... I am not going to treat you because I can not. And for two reasons; one I am just a psychiatrist and second, you have no disease that need a treatment. And I am just going to counsel you” I nodded in agreement and he went ahead, “your mother got to know me from Gary, Gary is himself and intersex and is working as an activist for their well being in USA. I had met him during my visit to US for LGBT research and I got to know all this. So I help people here in India as condition for such people is worse here.” I interrupted,” but how did you know Gary, maa”. i felt guilty as no one responded, doctor continued with his words, “you really thank your mother and then you father too. It was new for them when you were born, but when you were 1 and a half years old, doctor told them to operate you and take your testes out, as it may lead to cancer. Your mother fought to your father and dismissed any kind of surgery till they fully understand your condition. And he agreed. They went on researching and talking to different people all these years when you were growing up. They met Gary online and them they met me last year.” He sighed and gulped some water, “But they were also meeting their family doctor because you know parents cannot take chance when it is about their child.” I had tears again in my eyes and he continued, “you can cry. You father just got influenced by doctors when they said testes would make you male gradually and it is not his fault. You can take out testes or keep them intact, it’s totally your call. But then you should know there are consequences when you do so. And even if you don’t take it out you are not going to face problems in life. The only thing you need to do is accept... the fact that you are an Intersex... there is nothing shameful... You are naturally this... and your body will not behave as female because it is not. If you understand these things your life will be as normal and as good as it is meant to be.”

It was not my only sitting with Dr Mridul. Whenever we needed guidance we went to him. That day when we went home, papa did not scold me or maa for escaping the surgery, he rather hugged us tight and cried his heart out. He didn’t want to lose us.

I am nineteen now. I am studying BA in sociology and I wish to work for people like me and help them lead a normal life. I have a boyfriend and we are so in love. No, I haven’t went a surgery. He knows what I am and he has no issue. And I am having a very simple life, my parents support me, nishu loves me and everything is so beautiful around me. I have an ambition in life and I love my life, I love mu body and I love myself. I still go to the walk in closet, undress myself and look into the mirror. But I end up smiling at the uniqueness of my edges and curves. I am so much feminine but in a different way. I am thankful to my parents for accepting me and letting me choose what I want to be.

They didn’t ask me to study science in 11th standard, they didn’t ever ask me to behave the way society wants me to and they didn’t ask me to behave like a girl. I am an Intersex and they let me be it.

November 8: Intersex Day of Solidarity (IDS), or Intersex Day of Remembrance, marks the birthday of Herculine Barbin, a now famous French intersex person. (Source- intersexday.org)

Thursday, 26 October 2017

womanhood

Yes, I am an Intersex. - I by Juhi Meshram

wearedarshatha 22:30

Yes, I am an intersex.

It was my 15th birthday. And I knew all about my surprise midnight party. Haha. My parents were really bad with keeping secrets, they still are. As I was left alone at my room, I was continuously looking at the clock tick-tocking to the last hour of the day. I walked around the room, peeped out of the locked doors, went to the balcony, and looked at myself a hundred times. I was wearing a pink nighty and had roughly tied my hair, a perfect midnight birthday-girl look. I was looking at myself. Tip to toe. I wasn’t curved like my friends. I was thin, my breasts were hardly round, but I had lovely pink cheeks. Maa would often tell me, “not all girls have curves and you are still young”. But, I was going to be fifteen and was excited to see my body grow to look feminine, like my mother’s.

Suddenly! The doors opened and there was everybody; maa, papa, nishu, masi and tiffy. They screamed together, “ happy birthday nimmiii”, and my fifteenth birthday began.

I woke up early that morning. Dressed up for school, as I was stepping downstairs I heard my parents talking.

“She is fifteen now, till when do you think shall we wait to tell her?”, I knew they were talking about me.

“It is not easy, you have handled her the way you wanted but this time I will do it my way”, Papa responded furiously.

I could hear everything as the staircase was adjacent to the walls of kitchen ending before the dining, but they couldn’t see me as I was mid way on stairs.

Papa left for office and I entered the space.

Maa, as usual, put on a smile, as if nothing happened. She praised, “you are looking pretty and got ready on time, sorry I couldn’t wake you up... mm.. I was busy making this..”, and she offered me my favourites breakfast; aloo parathas, baked potatoes, strawberry shake, and much more. She made me forget everything with this and I ate a mouthful of it all.

I got a lot of gifts that day. My birthday party was something that my friends did not forget for months. The food, music, , decoration and the hosting by my family amazed everyone.

But I was stuck by something. The thing, they were not telling me. I knew there was something wrong with me. I was sitting at my room that night with an overloaded bed with gifts. My little sister, nishu was so excited to open them all at once, but I couldn’t match up to her excitement. I excused her and went to washroom. I undressed myself and looked at my body. My walk in closet had full length front and side mirrors, I could see every inch of mine. It wasn’t the first time I was doing this. I had even searched on the internet for a teen girls body and how it should grow. Maa always avoided this conversation whenever I had asked her. My parents used to talk about me secretly and their discussions were always serious. I sometimes felt I was the reason for disputes between them, for some unknown reason. But.... never dared to ask them. I was not usual. My privates looked different to what I had found in pictures on internet. I didn’t feel the way my friends used to feel when talk about any senior boy, there was so much that I had to know. I was staring to my naked self when nishu knocked the doors. “didi! Papa is calling you”

We were there, all three of us. Maa, papa and me. And there was silence. Because I dared to ask this time... “what is wrong with me?”

My parents couldn’t say a word as I continued, “I know there is something that you two are hiding. You were talking even in the morning about it. Why are you not telling me. I am fifteen, you people should tell me. I am grown up.”

They calmed me down as I was getting hyper. And then Papa signed maa to proceed, “Nimmi! First of all I don’t want you to freak out. We understand, you are grown up and you need to know things... about yourself that we know. When you were born you were infectious, even we don’t know the reasons but you were. After few days when you were born, we had to admit you in the hospital because you had urinary blockage.... and that infection couldn’t be treated. That is the reason...”, maa was yet to complete when I freaked out, “ what? What infection? Why is it not treated yet and why not I know this...” but she calmed me again.” Beta, you were not at the age to understand these things... are you getting me?..... would you please listen?”

I settled down on sofa near them and maa continued, “so we want you to know and understand it fully before we treat you... and we will see your doctor tomorrow and get it done. Okay?”

“ but what is the infection? I am sure it is the reason of my slow growth, please tell me” I requested. But they asked me to wait till the next day.

What I was told the next day took my world to an extreme end. The doctor’s words were pinching and snatching my head. “You have an infection in you genitals by birth. The reason you don’t experience menstrual cycle..... we have to take your genitals out so that you don’t catch cancer” I was shattered. I couldn’t utter a word. We came back home and I went straight to my room and locked myself. For hours, I was there in the bathroom crying and crying. With maa continuously tapping the doors. It is when I heard her sobbing that I came out. I announced to my parents that I was ready for surgery. They hugged me. And told me I was the bravest. I couldn’t let my mother cry and I knew it was better to leave a part of womanhood than to die of cancer.

The days before surgery were killing me to every bit. I thought i will die, thought my parents would not love me anymore because I will not be able to produce child. Nishi will not love me anymore for not telling her what to do when have periods every month. I was having bad thoughts. All bad thoughts. I was admitted to the hospital a day before the surgery and papa was there with me. I wanted maa to be there but she was home. They told me nishu needed maa and they wanted to keep her away of this. The next morning Maa called papa and told that he had to visit some client. He kissed my forehead and said to be back soon. The surgery was yet to be done when maa came. I was so happy to see her. I told her how much I needed her. I held her tight. But, she held me even tightly and said something I was not expecting, “nimmi, we are going to a place today. We can have this later when you are ready.” I was not getting any of it but she didn’t seem to care. She didn’t care of what the doctor said and took me out of that dooming scenario.

Next, we were on cab and maa was continuously ignoring papa’s calls. I remember, that was the first time I had heard the word ‘intersex’ and it was unknown to me then, that this word will become my identity.

To be continued...

Wednesday, 23 August 2017

violence

Highway- the road to freedom by Juhi Meshram

wearedarshatha 21:00

Raina… kaari kaari koylaan si raina

Neendi tola, tola si naina

Taaron ka bichhona.. chain se sona

Gota gota gudri mein ghoomega ghaamega

Sooha saaha main nani le jaana

“utho bhaya, kasana phone kiye go,,” and yet another dream of Mahabir was disturbed by hustle and bustle of his life. Millions of times he dreamed it, and million was the time it remained incomplete. “fir ajj oo saaale ka kaam b to khatam kre ka hai ...”. He opened his eyes balked to the voice and noise; voice of his fellow who knocked off his dream with handful of harsh realities and noise of go-down, the wheat storage where they stayed all night.

Bandit, contract killer, were all his identities. Identity. What was his identity. His profession, his childhood, his background. None looked like the one he had ever wished, he had ever wanted. A 6 feet tall, brown, perfectly built up to look dangerous ... he was a man of his actions with aggression being his shadow and violence his diet.

Dhammmmm. The bullet left its court and a man was shot dead. Pause. Mahabir and his comrades tried to escape the scene with the backdrop of guns and a girl. The girl along with her car became their key to escape and they... escaped.

The girl was rich. 5’5”, fair skinned, youthful who could be identified as the daughter of renowned minister.

Aadoo: bhayo, kasana bhi hath chod diyo hai, ab ka karogo

Mahabir: le ke javego laundiya

Tonk : per bhayo, police lag javegi , minister paiso na dio to

Mahabir: laundiya ki jaan pe aawegi to minister ka baap b dego paise. Apan apne bootein pe le jawega laundiya.. jeko aana hai aavo.

And Mahabir was now a kidnapper. They traveled. From city to city, state to state, place to place... to hide. They beat her, tortured her, tied her hands, filled clothe to her mouth.

She tried to escape, tried and failed. But then she realized that the thing she was trying to escape was the one she had always wished, she always wanted; an open sky, refreshing air, the feeling of being free. Stockholm syndrome. She started talking to them, liking them.

Mahabir: jada moh na lagawo laundiyo no.

Aadoo: nah bhayo, nah nah.

Mahabir: iske baap se firauti lewego aor saali laundiya kothe me daal dewego.

Ee saale ameer logan gariban no manorajan smjhe,,, gariban ke amma ko ijjat se khele au leke kon jaye aurat ko ,,, oko pati. Saala rat bhr kutiya k bahr baitha roye au ghr aake gussa b aurat pe nikale.

Mahabir was wearing it; aggression. He wore it since his childhood. He wore it when his mother was used as sexual pleasure by factory owners but he couldn’t do anything, he wore it when his father abused and beat his mother every other day but he couldn’t do anything, he wore it when he faced his mother’s sad sobbing face but couldn’t do anything.

The girl, Veera, on the other hand, did not hate him. She helped him escape the police, she helped him demand ransom from her father.

For her, he was an angel who rescued her from the plastic, unpleasant life back home and for him, she was a high society product, high society that ruined his childhood pushed him into crime.

But her behavior, her innocence developed a sense of inclination inside him for her. He offered her new clothes, food and also a freedom to roam around with them not like a victim but like a companion.

Tota bole pedon pe, ped se, poodi se

Sooha saaha neendan mein okha na ho

Sangi saathi, hansu ne thaare ho na ho

Sooha saaha, amma ka..

Sooha saaha, amma ka..

He used to hum this song so often, this lori his amma used to sing, to pour her love... making him sleep, making him dream, making him escape the reality. But he escaped his house, traveled to city... to crime and violence. He felt the same here. Bounded, like he couldn’t do anything but here, he could violate against the nature of society snatching its peace. And for him it was enough.

Veera: mere ek uncle the, hmesha ghar aate the mere lie chocolate late the muje bht pyaar krte the. Fir bathroom me le jate the, god me bithate,,,waha b pyaar krte the, mai dard me chillati thi,,,muh daba dete the taki meri chikh na sunayi de,,,

Mahabir was listening to her as she continued.

Veera: maine maa ko btaya, maa ne bola sshh kisiko mt btana. Mai chup rhi. Vo aj b aate h mere uncle, aj b mai unki god me baithti hu... vo aj b muje pyaar krte h.

She was crying, she was speaking, and she was looking at him.

Veera hugged him for hearing her. He looked at her and tears couldn’t resist floating. He hid his face but couldn’t hide his heart. A heart that was not a criminal but was still a child, a kid who wasn’t born bad but was nurtured badly by the society, the society he was doing bad to. It was like giving back from where he got.

Veera: amma kaha h tumhari.

Mahabir: gaon me.

Veera: tum unse milne jaoge, promise kro muje... jaoge.

Mahabir promised.

He now knew that she didn’t belong to that society but was victim of the society. Just like him. She was like him. They were alike. They wanted the same: freedom.

He decided to send her back. But she denied. He tried. He pushed his fellows out of it, he took her to the town, he asked her to go to the nearby police station, and he told her to go home. He ran, ran away. He tried and failed. Because he was fragile but she was strong.

They traveled together, to mountains, river, to nature.

Kasana had told him at the time of kidnapping.

Kasana: kutte ki maut marego saale

Mahabir: kutta kutte ki hi maut marego na.

He knew his end was near, and he knew it won’t be pleasant but he was ready to grab it.

For once, for only a day but it happened. They lived. Far away from the voice of society and noise of past. They lived. Together. On the mountains, roamed, rented a hut, cooked, ate, slept, woke up. Together. A perfect day.

Dhammm. Again a bullet left its court. Pause. Veera turned her eyes from beautiful scenery of mountains towards the sound.

She turned to find Mahabir shot, shot by police and laid on ground. She ran to him, covered him, protected him from police; society. He was dead but she couldn’t believe. She spoke, spoke to him, told him that everything was going to be fine, that he would meet his amma soon.

She kept on speaking because she was not ready to accept because she couldn’t do anything. She left her house, went to mountains, lived the life she always wished. She was happy because she got hers... but he got his too...freedom.

Wednesday, 15 February 2017

woman

The Emergency Exit by Shristi Nangalia

wearedarshatha 17:00

I am an 'Interior Design' student. This course in particular, has made me observant. Observant of little details related to buildings, interior decor products, new materials etc. From the skirting on the walls to the false ceiling designs, I keep noticing everything, unintentionally.

The phase of internship exposed me to various sides of Indian society, the prevailing culture and ethical bonds. Some sides which are creative and extravagant but some critical and sensitive to the bone.

I joined an ID firm in Howrah. It is located in the Central Avenue on M.G. Road. The firm is part of an office building, three stories high. The building was previously a residential type, I guessed from the exterior. But now, it is transformed, old, and very old. The huge rusted metal entrance door stands on the footpath. It leads us to a big atrium, covered by a green translucent corrugated sheet, making everything green, dark and dull. Various rooms surround the atrium, some rooms used as a store, some occupied by people but still very under-nourished. The staircase is on the right of the entrance. It runs throughout the height of the building. The lift well is beside the staircase, hollow.

The firm I joined is on the second floor. A long curved corridor surrounds the atrium on all floors. The railings are not at all reliable. They squeak and sway even when the wind blows. All the rooms on the second floor are occupied by other firms- an insurance company, an offset printers and a doctor's clinic. It was when I looked around from the staircase to find my firm, when I noticed the emergency exit, right on the opposite corner. It was locked. Who locks an emergency exit?

As I walked towards my firm, I stumbled on a big piece of wood which extruded from the railing of the corridor, making me loose balance. What a start to the new day! I was placed on a table beside the window, which opened into the corridor. I was disappointed about the infrastructure of the firm but my boss was a really humble and fatherly person. From my seat, I could see the doors to other offices, the emergency exit and the extruded piece of wood from my seat.

Not many people visited the insurance company and the printers, but there was a constant flow of patients to the doctor's clinic. Dr. Ray is a very renowned physician of the area, my boss says. He even owns this building. I saw local Bengali families with their children, women from north-eastern India and old people with sticks come on a regular basis.

After about 2 weeks of my internship, I got a welcome party from my boss at office, chai and club kachori. I was enjoying the feast on my seat when I saw something familiar. There was a woman cleaning the corridor. She was Tibetan, I guessed from her face. She was not dressed like a maid. She wore a skirt and a top, clean and tidy. That was not a usual thing to see. Boss declared a holiday that day, after lunch.

The next day, I was working on my desktop when I heard a loud thud outside the window. A cute guy, about my age, stumbled and fell on the floor due to the extruding piece of wood. That is when I noticed, the emergency door was lighted from inside, and it was not locked. It bought a sense of satisfaction because it should not have been locked earlier. An emergency exit is very useful at the time of... emergencies obviously. And about the cute guy, I wished he was working on the same floor as mine!

A few days later, my boss was out to Sealdah to a site. I was roaming about in the building during lunch time. There are offices in the first floor too. I saw the Tibetan woman climbing down the staircase from the first to the ground floor. I was climbing down too, just behind her. She wore the same skirt and top, but they were untidy and loose now. I thought of talking to her but I am the shy type. I saw her unlocking one of the rooms on the ground floor and closing the door being her.

I went out of the building to a nearby book stall that I always wanted to visit since I was in Howrah. There were not many books of my type. I bought a newspaper instead and returned back. I spent the rest of my day making an estimate for a client. I hated those calculations!

The next day I was late to office. I accidentally hit a big guy while climbing the staircase in a hurry. He was a fat guy with a big face. He had a briefcase in his hand and a stethoscope round his neck. He must be Dr. Ray. I felt as if he was staring at me as I ran past him. I carefully dodged the extruded wood piece, without stumbling. My boss never complained when I was late.

That day, I noticed something weird. I saw around lunch time, Dr. Ray came out of his clinic, opened the locks of the emergency exit door, went inside and switched the lights on. After 5 minutes or so, the lights went off but Dr. Ray did not come out. I was shocked to see the sweeper, the Tibetan woman, walking slowly towards the emergency exit. She went in and my knees started trembling. I watched, waited. After about an hour, Dr. Ray came out. The lights were still off. While pulling out the handkerchief from his pocket, he went into his clinic.

I did not see the woman again that day. I kept wondering about her. About THEM.

I was back onto my seat in office the next day. I had nothing to do. Boss was out of station again. I opened my cabinet to find my internship diary but I found the newspaper that I bought the other day. I carelessly started reading the headlines. But one did catch my attention-

Nepal Earthquake: More than 160 trafficked Nepalese rescued by India in aftermath of quake

Activists said risks were much higher after the quakes when traffickers or 'brokers' duped devastated families who had lost their homes and breadwinners to hand over themselves and their children with the promise of a monthly salary and a good job in India.

Yet the reality is very different: girls and women not recruited into prostitution are sold as domestic slaves in India and other countries, while boys are taken into forced bonded labor.

My heart sank after reading the news article. I was shivering. Something hit my head. I ran to the ground floor to talk to the Tibetan woman. She was not there in her room. I started searching, her cupboard, the table drawers, and her bag. Her bag! I found what I needed. It was a voter ID card. It read-

Name- Saili Gurung

Federal Republic of Nepal

After a few days, I bought the newspaper again, from the same stall. This time I was reading the headlines with a smile.

Two persons held for human trafficking; two girls and a woman rescued

A doctor and his wife were arrested for alleged human trafficking for bonded prostitution and labour. The two girls were found at their residence and the woman was found at their office building. The three are rescued and sent to protection home, police said.

A few days later, I was back on my table beside the window. I glanced out. The doctor’s clinic was closed in locks and the emergency exit wasn’t. Perfect!