reallives11

ASHA'S STORY

She should have been playing with dolls. Instead, the bright-eyed little girl was sold by her
father and became a "doll" in a Mumbai brothel. Asha was only nine when her father sold
her to a procurer. She came from a very poor family. Seven children had been born to
Asha's parents. They certainly could not afford a girl.
The bright-eyed little girl had no idea what was going on or how her life was about to
change forever. She only knew that the lady named Kala had told her she was going on a
trip to a very special place, that she would have new clothes, and that she would be
working for a nice family who lived in a big house. The lady asked Asha if she was willing to
work hard. Asha nodded. "Will you do anything that is asked of you?" Asha said she would
try. Asha wanted her family to be proud of her. The adventure began at the bus station in
Katmandu. Asha had never ridden a bus before. Asha wondered how many other girls
would be fortunate enough to go to a big city like Mumbai. Perhaps this was what her father
meant when he talked about good karma. She couldn't wait to say her pujas (daily
prayers), as her father and mother had taught her to give thanks for such good fortune.
Asha looked excitedly out the window as the Nepali hills rolled by. The bus trip lasted much
longer than she expected - 14 hours just to get to the border town of Nepalgunj. Once
there, they walked across the border where they boarded another bus for the trip to Delhi.
Asha asked Kala if they were almost there. Kala told her that Mumbai was very far away
and they wouldn't be there for several days. After what seemed like forever, Asha asked
again. Kala glowered at the little girl. Asha decided that perhaps she should not ask such
questions. The stifling heat and the exhaust fumes made Asha sick to her stomach. She
wondered if Mumbai would be like this. All that day the bus bumped and swayed over the
dusty roads of North India. Asha began to realize that wherever Mumbai was, it was a long
way from home. She wondered if her parents would come to see her. Finally, after three
days and hundreds of nameless Indian villages, the driver announced the good news - they
were in Mumbai. Asha became excited. What will the family be like? What about their big
house? When Asha and Kala climbed down from the bus there was no one to meet them.
Asha was confused. She looked around. Kala grabbed her hand and nearly jerked her off
her feet. "Come, child!" They walked quickly through the busy station, past the beggars
who swarmed the sidewalk outside, and to the taxi stand. Asha had never been in a car.
Kala spoke crisply to the driver. "Falkland Road." This must be a very special place, she
thought for the driver instantly nodded his head in recognition. It was night when the taxi
wound its way through Mumbai's crowded streets, but unlike Nepal, it wasn't dark.
Everywhere she looked, Asha saw lights, lots of lights with strange markings. Asha did not
know the meaning of the strange markings. She had never been to school. After an hour's
drive, the taxi turned onto what seemed to be the busiest street of all. The taxi stopped.
Kala pulled her arm again. "This is where we get out," the woman said crossly. This was a
strange place. "Where's the pretty house?" Asha asked shyly. "Quiet!" Kala barked. "This
is your new home." Women and girls lounged in the doorway. Their faces were painted in
ways Asha had never seen. Asha stopped and stared. Kala roughly pulled the little girl
through the door. They walked down a series of long, poorly lit corridors. Asha could feel
the wet garbage under her bare feet, oozing between her toes. There was heaviness in the
air. This did not seem like a happy place. Suddenly, a woman was standing in front of them.
"Here she is," Kala said tersely, "That'll be 40,000 rupees" (about $100 U.S.). The woman
took Asha to a little room. "This is where you'll stay," the woman declared without emotion
as she pushed the child through the door. Asha shivered when she heard the dead bolt
slam into place. Something seemed very wrong. Asha felt frightened…and alone. She
prayed to the family gods. It didn't seem to help. Asha went to sleep wondering what kind of
place she had come to. When she woke up, she couldn't tell whether it was day or night
because her room had no windows. After a long while, the woman returned. She sat down
on the bed and opened a little bag. She started putting make-up on Asha's face. Asha
winced. A few minutes later the woman came back with a man. The woman told Asha what
to do. Asha did not want to do such things. The woman slapped her. Asha cried. The
woman slapped her again. "No! No! I will not do such things." The woman cursed Asha in
Nepali and then left. A few minutes later, she returned with another man. His lip curled in a
mocking snarl. She had never seen such a look. "So, you don't want to work, eh?" He
pulled off his belt and began to beat Asha. He beat her until the pain filled her body. Then
he left. Asha curled up on her cot and whimpered softly. Later that day the woman came
back. "Ready to work, little doll?" Asha cried and pleaded with her. "Please don't make me
do those things." The man with the belt came back. Three times that day he beat her.
When the time came to eat, they brought nothing to Asha. Still the little girl resisted. The
torture lasted for days. Without light, Asha lost track of time. Without food she grew weak.
One of the other girls told Asha it was useless to resist. She told Asha of another girl who
had been put in a room with a cobra until she changed her mind about doing as she was
told. It didn't take long, the girl reported. "The gods have forgotten you. This is your fate,"
the girl said sadly. Frightened, exhausted and hungry, Asha surrendered. In those first
days, Asha often cried herself to sleep, wishing she was back in her village, homesick for
her mother. She hated life in the brothel, hated what she saw, hated what she did. She
hated what happened to the other girls - especially the sick ones. But the tears grew less
and less, and Asha became accustomed to her new life. Seven years passed. Seven years
without seeing her mother or brothers. Seven years in what she and the other girls called
"that place." Seven years watching girls become sick with the "Bombay Disease." Seven
years of watching them turned out on the streets to die. Asha dreamed of buying her
freedom and going home to Nepal, but she knew there was little hope of that. By her
sixteenth birthday, Asha had forgotten what hope was. Until she met a man named Devaraj.
Devaraj was different than the other men she had known. She met him at a small church
near Falkland Road. There he taught messages of hope that lifted her spirits. He talked of
freedom. She visited there as often as she could. She longed more than ever to be free
from Falkland Road, but she still lacked the money to pay the "investment" the brothel
owner had made in her. One night after service, Devaraj told Asha she could leave the
district. Asha could hardly believe what she was hearing. "How is this possible?" Asha
asked. Devaraj explained that some "friends" had given a gift to purchase her freedom.
In a few days, Asha left the brothel that had been her home since she was a young girl and
moved into a "Home of Hope." Now she is learning how to live. She is learning a new trade.
And thanks to people who care, Asha's life is no longer surrounded by pain and
disappointment. It is full of hope and optimism for the future.