Those first days after Shiv left for his new job, I felt alone. I wrote poetry, looking forward to when I could share each poem with him.
But months later, I stopped. What was the point? I hadn’t heard from him, and I was forced to continue to work. Would my baby and I survive this?
Jai knew something was wrong. He started bringing me day-old lassi again. I wasn’t eating, but Sajana said I had to for the baby. The pills would not work anymore.
“Do you want the procedure?” she asked almost every day now. “It’s risky. It’s not with a doctor.” But every day I shook my head. I wouldn’t risk my life, even though it felt like it was already over.
I was growing life inside of me. I felt it and couldn’t imagine stopping this life, one that was worthy of love, of a life outside of here.
He said he would send letters. When we woke up the last morning I saw him, he said, “Don’t worry. I will go and make so much money that we will be fine in the end. I will get you out of here, you and our baby.”
“So we will not see each other?” I asked.
“I know it will be hard. You have to stay strong for our baby. I will send letters, then you send me your poems.”
Now, with us moving buildings, I did not know how and where he planned to send these letters to me.
I still hadn’t heard from Madame about my request either. When I was about six months along, I asked her if I could be relieved of duties until the baby came. It was too hard to give blow jobs without gagging more than normal, and it hurt when men rested on top of me. I would take on all the other girls’ chores. She had looked at me and squinted before saying she would let me know.
The week after my request, Madame had a meeting for all the girls. The last meeting we’d had was months ago, when Janaki was ill, sweating, and fatigued. At the time, Madame mentioned we would talk about HIV. Talking about it meant she threw some extra rubbers from the free workshop at us without addressing that her favorite girl might die. Janaki had up and down days but never stopped working. She was getting thinner, and her eyes were more and more sunken.
This time, we filled the common area, sweating from the day’s heat. The fan was broken, and even the TV was damp from humidity.
She was wearing Mummy’s earrings. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. When our belongings went missing after we had arrived, Amla and I often wondered about the earrings. We assumed they were sold off, but Madame had kept them all this time. Had she put them on after my acid attack? My heart raced as she started with the usual.
“It seems you girls have gotten lazy. I have noticed the floor is collecting dust sooner, obviously your fault. I should beat you all for the way you have ignored your duties here.”
I looked down and ran my toe over the floor to feel the dust. Then she spoke about the changes.
“I am going to have some health procedures for my lungs. Since I am responsible for all of your degenerate lives, we need to increase revenue, so I have a plan. We will be designating each of you to different customer requests. This will make things easier for the gundas and encourage customers to pay more if they want to see their favorites.” She looked at each of us and continued.
“We have raised our prices for customers who wish to keep one of you to themselves,” she said, and this time she looked straight at me. I imagined cutting her eyes out of her head. Ripping the earrings off her ears. “If someone wants one of you, but you are on a different duty, they need to pay double. Think of this as good; it helps with your tabs. We will rotate each week. It will be fun.”
She laughed, wickedly. As a young girl, Amla and I had read stories of the Mahabharata and the demon Putana who tried to breastfeed Krishna poisoned milk. Her face was scary and wild, full of evil motives. Even though Krishna defeated her, I had nightmares from the photo my mother showed me in the storybook, and I remember wondering how anyone could be so evil.
Madame Mina was that woman.
She listed our names and our new sexual duties. My ears grew hot from the way she talked about us. As if we were nothing. It was her way of saying she had denied my request and made it worse. I hated her. “Asya, with your situation you can do all the blow jobs.”
I hated all of the jobs in the brothel, but especially that. I wanted to vomit just thinking about it. Life felt like it was over.
I pictured Shiv, smiling, so hopeful, and now gone. He could never have been able to pay off both our debts. So it was up to me. Could I defeat this demon? I held my stomach and knew I had to.