Chapter 3
RK watched as the girl from previous night entered the room, closing the door behind her. Her gaze was downwards instead of looking straight at him, though she kept walking towards him.Somehow, RK felt relief that he didn't have to see in her eyes as she came in. What he had done to her the previous night had made him feel like a monster this morning, when he woke up on the same bed where she sat crying. Even though he had "paid" for what he assumed (and hoped) was a willful transaction, he felt ashamed.
"You...you want more?"
Her voice had an incredulous mix of fear and proposition that RK couldn't bear. He had walked out of the room as soon as he could, leaving whatever cash he had in his wallet on the side table. He didn't want to face her. And yet, here he was, in another hotel room not unlike the one he woke up, only 12 hours later, standing face to face with the same girl, who thankfully wasn't looking at him even though she was now standing next to him.
He sat down on the bed, gulping down his drink, not knowing what to do or say next. He wasn't sure this was such a great idea, coming back here, but somehow, drowning in his personal hell, he found himself haunted by this girl's eyes and felt so restless that he ended up hunting down the man's card who had brought him to her last night and making the call that brought him here. Repeat buyer, they said in the industry.
The silence in room was deafening.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Ma.."she hesitated, then said "Mitisha".
"RK" He nodded, but didn't say anything else.
She continued to stand there, inches away from him, quietly waiting for instructions. Was she scared? Was she still in pain from whatever happened last night? She did seem to have some difficulty walking, but then again she was wearing five inch heels she totally didn't look like she was used to. RK reached out for another gulp of his drink, but the glass was empty. He turned his head towards the bottle on the table, but before he could do anything, she brought the bottle to him and poured the drink in his glass. As she was doing that, RK looked up at her. Once again, his first thought was how beautiful she was. Behind the jarring makeup and the uncomfortable strappy dress, she was stunning. Something in him made him feel like he wanted her, no, needed her. Not to hurt her, not the way he needed her last night. He kept his refilled glass on the side and instead hugged her, hiding his face in her stomach, under her breasts, pulling her closer even though she continued standing.
She hesitated initially, but after a minute or so, she too put her arms behind his head, gently stroking his head and back. That felt soothing, RK thought, and continued to hug her tight, keeping his eyes closed, searching for a sense of peace that felt all too elusive. Several minutes passed like that, wordless, before RK felt the need for more. There was a glimmer of peace in embrace, but it wasn't enough. He needed more. And so, he broke away from the embrace slightly and pulled the girl who called herself Mitisha, turning her around and laying her on the bed before himself climbing on top of her. She shivered, but didn't really protest, and before long RK had her trapped underneath. Without asking for permission or stopping to think, he captured her lips in his. The kiss deepened and his tongue probed inside her mouth, searching for something. Suddenly though, he felt her respond to his kiss. Their tongues intertwined and soon after, he heard her moan a little. The sound of her moaning sent shivers of electricity down RK's spine. He had never felt something like this before. Had he really found passion with a prostitute, or was his grief-numbed mind playing tricks on him?
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Almost an hour later, RK pulled away and rolled off the bed. Madhu instinctively covered herself with the sheets even as her eyes followed RK to the other corner of the room where he put on a robe. The last one hour with this man in this room had been quite unexpected for her. She had expected simply pain and brutality, much like what had happened the previous day, or indeed since the moment she had found herself sold with nowhere to escape by those that she had held dearest to herself. It wasn't that long ago, that night, when her own father had attempted to molest her in a night of drunken haze, taking her younger brother along. She had somehow escaped out of the home, and returned the next morning only to find her father dead, having slipped and hurt his head. Mukund had supported her then, giving her shelter, and Madhu truly believed he loved her. He kept trying to have a physical relationship with her, and she kept refusing saying she wanted to wait until marriage. Yet, somehow, everyone in their little town seemed to already believe the two of them had an illegitimate relationship, some even calling her Mukund's mistress. But still, every time she brought up marriage, Mukund kept delaying it. She sent his brother away to the city to finish his education and to keep him away from all the gossip in the town. But suddenly, one day, Mukund refused to pay for her brother's education which he had himself volunteered for. He wanted her to sleep with him if she wanted the money, and Madhu kept refusing because she felt cheapened, and kept asking him to marry her instead. Last week, things had turned violent, when Mukund tried to force himself on her. Terrified, she somehow managed to lock herself up in the room, but hours later, Mukund had returned with some of his friends. They broke through the door and got to Madhu, who had never felt so helpless, so scared in her life. They beat her up, and would have raped her until one of them intervened.
"Stop" he said "she is beautiful. She would make ten times the money as a virgin."
Beaten, bruised, scarred, Madhu found herself at one of Mumbai's elite call-girl services, a sophisticated version of brothels catered to the higher-end crowd. Here, she was beaten, starved and deprived off her last shred of dignity, or hope. Here, she got a new identity - Mitisha - a new wardrobe and a net set of rules, dos and don'ts to live by. She tried to escape once, but was caught before she got anywhere, and that's when she realized the people who bought her knew exactly where her brother was at all times, and would make him pay for anything she does to defy them or their clients.
"Accept it" she got the friendly advice from someone who was many years her senior in the world. "The more you fight it, the worse it will get. Accept it, and it will get easier. You will learn to ignore the dirt, bury the pain. You will get to see how people really are behind the curtains of their external facade. At least you can use the money to give your brother a good life."
She cried for days, until the tears finally dried. She had tried to make peace with her new reality and changed her expectations. Finally, she was client-ready.
RK, the man across the room who she now stared at, was her first client. The previous night was what she had been told to expect, only worse. The pain was incredible. The humiliation soul-wrenching. The man was a true beast who had violently stripped away any residues of her dreams and her personality, any shred of Madhu. And yet, all she could think of was if he was pleased. A displeased client could bring her a lot more pain. She had escaped being raped a few times, but when it finally happened to her, she realized she gave up struggling much easier than she would have imagined.
Tonight though, when the man had asked her for a second time, she had come in expecting similar pain from the same man. But tonight, he was different. The force of his actions tonight had come from a place of pain, not violence. He had been tender - demanding, but tender - and it almost fell as if he was the powerless one.
The most unexpected bit to Madhu, however, was her own reaction. Unlike the previous night, tonight when he kissed her, she felt something she had never felt before. Suddenly, she forgot her pain, and before she knew it, she was responding back to him, even though she didn't even know what response was supposed to be like. Unlike yesterday, when he removed her clothing, she did not feel a sense of humiliation and pain. Instead, she felt an urge for him to go faster, because her body was telling her she needed him. He had taken her to a different place - where her struggles didn't exist, the betrayal of her love didn't matter and losing her identity didn't feel nearly as important - and it was only now when he had rolled away from her that she found herself back in reality, away from that fleeting instant in time where she felt...happy.
Maybe, this was what it was supposed to be like. Maybe, she felt weird only because of her inexperience. Maybe this was why the business of sex sold so well - it promised an escape into an illusory world of happiness.
So what, if the happiness was ephemeral?
Kuch tumhaare, kuch hamare, kuch dard benaam sahi
Dard baantana zindagi ki fikrat hai, zindagi par ilzaam nahi
Edited by teekay - 9 years ago
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