Village of endless night
By J Dey
The Indian Express
29 Septemeber, 2003
MAHEJI, JALGAON: It was well past midnight when the Toyota Qualis drew up outside a fairly large bungalow in Maheji village, the horn loud enough to bring Karim rushing out. ‘‘Please come in. We can decide the price later,’’ he whispers with sickening obsequiousness.Minutes later, Reshma steps into the living room, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Clients turn up at any time. It’s sex on demand, you see. ‘‘What’s your name? Who referred you here,’’ she inquires, her father Karim standing just a few feet away.
‘‘Suresh,’’ replies the ‘client’, who has brought along two friends. ‘‘But the name is irrelevant. Isn’t it more important that we are here,’’ he smirks.After some bargaining, the price is fixed at Rs 1,500 for an hour’s cheap entertainment.
Maheji is a village where every family’s income depends on their daughter’s age and appearance. This village depends on prostitution for its survival, a century-old tradition here. So what if it falls under MLA and State Minister for Food and Civil Supplies, Suresh Jain’s constituency? So what if the squalid galis leading to the brothels are just 10 km from the minister’s farmhouse?
Brothels abound and politicians and policemen are welcomed by the men, most of whom don’t work. It’s the rustle of currency that brings each household anything between Rs 70,000 to Rs 1 lakh a month. Some of the 150-odd unmarried, young women in Maheji are also sent to distant towns and cities such as Aurangabad, Jalna, Dhule, Nashik and, of course, cash-rich Mumbai to work.
In Maheji, female bondage begins at age 16, when every girl dreads the nath utarna ceremony. It’s the adolescent’s initiation into the sex trade, where she entertains her first customer. After that, the family breaks into celebration. A rich client could pay as much as Rs 1 lakh to spend a night with a virgin. It’s another assured source of income. Assured because the women are under constant surveillance, they are threatened and battered psychologically, thrashed and even singed to make sure they ‘perform’.
Intimidation is used with sickening regularity to break their will and keep them shackled. That’s why Rajendra Choudhary and Mona’s is a doomed love story. Choudhary, a local engineer, has been seeing Mona for the last two years and is negotiating with her father Karim and brother Vicky for her hand in marriage.
‘‘She is dying anyway and is fighting to keep off clients,’’ he says. Now, Mona is watched even more carefully. So eloping is virtually impossible.
For the Maheji girls, marriage is a bad business proposition. While the male guardians discourage the girls from marrying, men from the neaighbouring villages are not too keen to marry anyone from Maheji. ‘‘It is very rare that a non-prostitute from Maheji gets married into a respectable family. Even girls from neighbouring villages like Kurangi and Nevasa are affected by the stigma,’’ says local resident Nitesh Patil.
But Maheji has fallen on hard times. The shadow of HIV and AIDS has fallen on the village. Tuberculosis is rampant. Sona, Sheetal, Ayesha and Saira visit the doctor regularly while Sharmili, Meena, Haseena, Babita and Reshma are on the verge of contracting something deadly.
Prostitution was brought to a halt between May 23 and June 6, when locals from neighbouring Kurangi tried to stop the flesh trade in Maheji. En route to Maheji, vehicles were stopped and villagers discouraged clients from visiting the brothels. But the girls were soon back in business.
District Collector Prakash Sabde expressed surprise when The Indian Express asked him about the problems in Maheji. ‘‘Where is this Maheji,’’ he asked. However, Sabde later said he would have the matter investigated.
Back in the bungalow, it’s business as usual. The sound of ghungroos heralds Reshma’s return. She is accompanied by two other girls, all three of them in the trademark bright saris, mask-like make-up and sari barely catching the hip. All three are worn and numb.
As Reshma prepares to dance, her brother Vicky doubles as errand boy to fetch some beer. More than one client? No problem. Girls are summoned from neighbouring households. The more, the merrier. Besides, every ‘extra’ girl gets 70 per cent of the price.
Clients are then led to a room adjoining the living quarters. Suddenly the music system sputters to life. Twisting and turning, Reshma opens her act, her feet trampling on crumpled currency notes. To encourage clients to be generous, Vicky throws some at his sister. There’s a repeat performance in an adjoining room, where Pooja is coping with other clients. Shabana’s engaged elsewhere. It’s a busy night. ‘‘The night never ends here,’’ says Reshma. The hour is almost up. Still dancing, Reshma approaches the client, drapes her arm over his shoulder. He must not leave. Every hour is a lucrative proposition.
The ruse doesn’t work. The three clients stand up and minutes later, the Toyota Qualis is gone. No worries, a Trax saunters up. Karim and Vicky rush out to greet its occupants. Inside the room, Reshma wipes away the perspiration and takes out a fresh set of clothes. And the tired night wears on.