They reached the front door and then were out in the street, Asha clinging to Caroline’s arm. Caroline felt a tight grip on her other arm; one of the men had taken hold of her and was urging her forward, up the lane. Glancing to her left, she saw that Asha was being held on her other side by the second man. She looked over her shoulder; The street was half deserted. She saw a few women in bright saris standing in doorways as they passed. Late male stragglers made their way to the end of the lane, where the main thoroughfare, in the daytime a roaring, fuming chaos of motor vehicles, lay quiet and forsaken.
A black car crouched at the roadside. Its back door opened silently at their approach, as if by the hand of a ghost. Caroline and Asha were summarily bundled into the back seat; the car door slammed and they were enclosed in the black, musty interior.
There was a third man already waiting in the driver’s seat, reeking of some heavy aftershave and smiling in a manner that made Caroline cringe and draw back in disgust. Their two male escorts slid into the back seat with her and Asha, one on either side, next to the doors. The motor coughed once, twice, then relaxed into a quiet purring. They drove off.
It seemed an endless drive all through the night and into the dawn. But it could have been one hour, and it could have been three. Caroline dozed off now and then, only to be startled into wakefulness by a dream or a memory or a sound, then to drift back into sleep. Sometimes when she was awake she heard the men talking; sometimes she heard nothing but the hum of the engine. When she woke up for the last time the car had stopped and she felt fresh air on her cheeks and heard raised male voices. She blinked, and could make out only the silhouettes of houses and a few male figures. Were they still in Mumbai? She could not tell.
Someone pushed her out of the car. Loose gravel crunched beneath her bare feet. She reached for Asha’s hand and held it tightly.
‘It’s OK, honey. I’m here,’ she whispered. Yes, she was afraid. But how much more afraid must Asha be? It was her job to calm that fear, and doing so helped calm her own. She could see nothing but those dark silhouettes, and here and there a dim light against a building. The tight hold on her arm did not relax for a fraction of a second. They entered a door beneath one of the outside lights; behind it was a dim passageway leading to a steep flight of stairs. She walked up, still clinging to Asha’s hand. Asha’s bare feet padded beside her own. The voices around her were loud and rude, the grip on her arm tight and uncompromising. All that could be seen were walls.
They reached the top of the stairs and then there was a woman’s voice, speaking three or four sharp words, and uncouth hands tugged at her and pushed her inside a brightly lit room. Caroline blinked at the harsh light, then looked around. The men from the brothel had been joined by a woman. She did not look at Asha, for the woman was staring at her with such intensity she could not look away.
The woman could have been anything between thirty and fifty. She wore a faded beauty with the dignity of a queen, though she was not dressed to fit that role. She had obviously been roused from her bed, for she wore a long neck-to-ankle cylinder of a nightgown in pink seersucker, slightly gathered around a buttoned bib that rose above a generously loose bosom. She had skin the colour of dark honey, high cheekbones and long heavy-lidded eyes that seemed to have slid slightly lower down her cheeks than was originally intended. Her hair hung in a long plait over her right shoulder. She wore several gold rings on her fingers and a small gold stud at the flare of her nostril. She was speaking to one of the men, but her gaze flitted now and again from Caroline to Asha, summing them up with cunning expertise. Caroline felt like a collector’s doll being offered for sale.
The woman had obviously been unprepared for their coming; she was also obviously of higher rank than the men who had brought Caroline and Asha. She was arguing with them, but Caroline, of course, could not understand a word. Finally the woman addressed her directly. She shrugged. One of the men spoke, and she understood the one word: English. The woman addressed her again, this time in her own language.
‘Your native tongue is English?’ Caroline nodded. Asha neither nodded nor spoke. The girl was edging behind her, trying to hide. The hand in her own trembled like a small captured bird. The woman addressed Asha now; she reached for her, gripped her by the upper arm and pulled her out from behind Caroline.
‘Let me look at you,’ she said, and turned Asha around, forcing her to let go of Caroline’s hand. ‘You have grown so thin, Kamini. What have they done to you? Did they starve you at that place? Well now perhaps you can appreciate how lucky you were before.’
Asha did not answer. The woman spoke to the man who appeared to be the senior, the taller, darker, bulkier one of the two.
There followed a long conversation in Hindi, in which the man spoke the most, the woman merely shaking her head and saying ‘acha, acha’ at intervals. Then the woman took over. Finally they seemed to reach a sort of agreement, for the tone of voice changed; it became friendly, almost. The man and his crony turned and clattered down the stairs. The woman gestured for Caroline and Asha to follow her, and led them a short way down the corridor and through a door. They were in a fairly large room now, sparsely furnished with a double bed, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe; frugal, but, compared to the room they had just left, a queen’s chamber, for it was clean, the bed had a sparkling white sheet, and both the windows were open, though barred by wrought-iron patterned grids.
‘It’s late,’ the woman said to Caroline. ‘You should get in the bed and sleep now and we’ll talk in the morning. You are Kamini’s mother I understand, and you have caused her to speak again. That is a good thing for Kamini. We only have to decide what to do with you. It is not my decision. If Kamini is speaking it is very good for her. I will explain all in the morning. Now take rest. You will be fine here but don’t try any tricks. I’m kind but I don’t stand for any nonsense. Don’t give me any trouble and I won’t give you any. Are you hungry? Shall I bring you some food? There’s water in the jug over there.’ Another flick of her thumb, this time towards the flask and two glasses on a tray. ‘Look, I’m tired and I have to go and finish the business with those men so I’m leaving now. I’ll talk to you in the morning. You’ll find night garments in the top drawer.’ She pointed to the chest of drawers.
Then she was gone, and Caroline’s reply, that indeed she was hungry, they were both hungry, and could she have something to eat, died on her lips. They key turned in the lock.
Caroline sighed and, assuming there would be a breakfast within a few hours, helped a passive Asha out of her sari and into one of the nightdresses the woman had indicated. While doing so she had the perfect opportunity to see, for the first time, the three bloodied welts across Asha’s thin back.
The vicious witch, Caroline thought angrily. It must be that hag at the brothel. People like her ought to be publicly flogged. One of the wounds seemed to be infected; it ought to be dressed properly, but Caroline knew there would be no help tonight. Tomorrow would have to do.
Caroline then pulled on the other nightdress. It was white, starched and ironed, and smelt strongly of washing powder. Whatever the future held, at least their conditions had drastically improved since yesterday. She thought of her friends. Kamal, and Janiki, and Gita. Gita would not know where to find her. Why, oh why, had she not let Janiki arrange things her own way? Why had she leapt in where angels fear to tread? I did it for Asha, she said to herself. At least Asha is no longer alone. The words that had been, and would be, her single comfort throughout the ordeal. She thought of Wayne. They cannot keep me imprisoned for long, she thought. I am an American citizen. This time, they will have to act. Have to set the police on me to avoid an international incident. Wayne had influential friends in government. They would put pressure on – whomever it was necessary to put pressure on. Wayne would help. She touched the rings on the chain around her neck. What was she thinking of, to even contemplate getting back together with Kamal? Wayne was her husband. She loved Wayne. When this was over it would be her and Wayne and Asha.
Kamal might want Asha too, said a little voice inside, but she brushed it away impatiently. Kamal’s chances of getting custody were exactly nil. She was Asha’s mother; she was married, and she and her husband could provide a happy family for Asha. A single man like Kamal – not a chance.
It was 3 a.m. when she glanced at her watch before turning off the light. She walked to the bed where Asha had lain down and now, as far as Caroline could gather, was already fast asleep. A minute later Caroline, too, was sunk in sleep.
Caroline awoke to the sound of a key turning, and sat up, still groggy but immediately aware as soon as she saw the woman from last night crossing the room. Behind her followed a maid with a tray, on which were some slices of toast, butter and jam, as well as cups, plates and a steaming pot. The delicious aroma of coffee drifted in Caroline’s direction, stimulating the accumulated hunger of the previous day. The maid set the tray down on the table and silently left the room. The woman stayed.
‘All right. Take food. I want to have a few words with you. What is your good name?’
Caroline told her as she sat down at the table and poured herself a cup of coffee. Asha was still asleep. Let her sleep as long as she can, Caroline thought.
‘This girl has been very naughty,’ said the woman. ‘She refused to speak. Her only chance of a good future is if she is nice and pleasant to our customer. That’s why we sent her to that other place. To teach her a lesson. Our customer is a good man. He will treat her well. I want you to encourage this girl to be pleasant towards him.’
‘You must be out of your fucking mind,’ said Caroline. ‘Who do you think I am, a monster like you lot?’
‘Don’t be rude,’ said the woman sharply. ‘I told you: don’t give me any trouble and I won’t give you any trouble. I only know she was speechless and thus useless. I hope you can change that.’
‘I’m not changing anything,’ Caroline said. ‘My daughter will speak if she wants to and be silent if she wants to.’ She wanted to continue but stopped herself. She did not want to provoke the woman more than necessary.
‘How can you do this to young girls,’ Caroline asked, ‘don’t you have a heart? She’s terrified. Of course she doesn’t speak.’
‘Pah! She’ll just have to put armour around herself and get on with it. It’s survival of the fittest in this trade. Otherwise she won’t last very long.’
‘Not the way she’s been whipped, she won’t!’ Caroline retorted. ‘I need something to dress her back with. It’s covered in welts.’
‘What?’ cried the woman, and hurried over to the bed where Asha still lay in deep sleep. Clearly not worried about waking the girl, she turned her over onto her stomach and pulled at the
nightie till Asha’s back was exposed. She inspected the welts, running her fingers lightly along them.
‘Those scoundrels! They never said… Well, anyway, she’s very beautiful and with a bit of care she will get more beautiful, fill out again and so on. A doctor is coming today to look at both of you. But first you have to be bathed and deloused. Both of you stink to high heaven. This is a respectable house, not like that place you came from. We never beat our girls here. If a girl is so recalcitrant she needs to be beaten she is simply passed on to such houses where beatings take place; Mr Rajgopal doesn’t stand for any corporal punishment in his houses. He believes in treating his girls kindly, then they will work willingly, for they know they are in a good position. You are very lucky to come here.’
‘My daughter is not Mr Rajgopal’s girl, whoever he is,’ Caroline protested loudly. ‘And neither am I.’
‘Ha!’ the woman cackled. ‘Tell that to Mr Rajgopal. I paid for you both and you both belong to me – that is, to Mr Rajgopal. He bought this girl for Mr Chaudhuri, who is very attached to her. I am only doing my job. I have nothing to do with you – what do I care? I only make sure he gets good quality for the price. He trusts me completely, you see. I’m good at my job. But it’s only a job. Mr Rajgopal is kind though, or at least as kind as any man. I’ve seen much worse but not many better. Thank your deity you were brought here. But I’m glad Kamini has been returned, given another chance. She was wasted in Kamathipura. A girl like this needs special care and now she will get it – they don’t call me Devaki the Blameless for nothing! Maybe you can help her find her tongue. Mind you, if she doesn’t find it within the week it’s out she goes again, back to Kamathipura, this time for good! We can’t have stubborn girls here. All our girls work willingly. It’s good you speak English, I can do with some girls speaking English. You sound educated as well, that’s a good thing. I can get you some excellent escort work. But Kamini now, she’s the real prize. You don’t realise how…’
Devaki chattered on as if she hadn’t noticed that Caroline had stopped eating long ago, and was only fiddling with her food. She had stopped listening too, ever since the words: ‘I paid for you both.’
It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible that she had been sold. She had volunteered to come with Asha, for goodness’ sake. She had been set free; she could have gone but had insisted on coming. She knew for a fact that the men had not bought her. She could have left at any time before getting into the car with Asha. She had not been bought; so how then could she have been sold?
But perhaps such logic did not exist in this business.
Slowly, slowly, it dawned on Caroline that at some point during the drive between the house in Kamathipura and this house she had changed status. She had been transformed from the self-determined, free individual she had been into a commodity, a marketable ware to be bought and sold at the whim of strangers. Janiki was perfectly right: she had rushed in like a fool where angels fear to tread. She now belonged to Devaki.