Teen’s bondage tale 
Sudeshna Sarkar



The plight of a 13-year-old Nepalese girl, sold to an Indian brothel by her stepfather, made it to the shortlist of a prestigious American literary award and is spearheading an effort by the author to raise awareness among young Americans about human trafficking.

Patricia McCormick, a New York-based freelance journalist and creative writing teacher for third-graders, travelled to Nepal and India to research her new book Sold, published in September and intended for readers aged 12 years and above. Sold, which was shortlisted for the 57th National Book Awards instituted by National Book Foundation, is the story of Lakshmi, whose stepfather sold her to a brothel in Kolkata to pay the debts he had contracted due to a bad crop year.

Told in a series of images written in free verse, the book is a novel attempt to raise awareness of young adults about dark activities like trafficking in Third World countries and the ways in which they can help victims. McCormick, who has written two other novels earlier, Cut and My Brother’s Keeper, says in an interview posted on her website that she was inspired to write Sold after meeting a photographer five years ago who was working undercover to document the presence of minors in brothels overseas. "I believe that young adults want to know what’s happening to their peers on the other side of the world," she says. "But media accounts, by their very nature, cannot usually go beyond the surface. To me, there is nothing more powerful - or permanent - than the impact of a book." The author says she spent a month in Nepal and India, first going to the "poor, isolated village in the foothills of the Himalayas", where Laksmi lived, and then to the "teeming red-light district of Calcutta" to garner details like "the sights, smells, foods, sounds, and the customs".

Her search for authentic details also led her to interviews with women in brothels, girls who had been rescued, and a "man who had sold his girlfriend in exchange for a motorcycle".

Writing the book was just one part of the mission. Now McCormick wants American youth to help the victims. "The cost of living in countries where trafficking takes place is very low," she says. "One week’s allowance, for instance, could go a long way towards providing medicine, toys or books for the children of the red-light district, or could contribute to the work of organisations that stop trafficking and provide safety for victims." Sold brings out vividly the pathetic economy in the world of the victims.

Lakshmi starts secretly jotting calculations in a hidden little notebook to estimate how she can pay the money owed to Mumtaz, the crafty madam of the brothel, and escape. "If I bring a half dozen men to my room each night, and each man pays Mumtaz Rs 30, I am Rs 180 closer each day to going back home. If I work for 100 days more, I should have nearly enough to pay back the Rs 20,000 I owe to Mumtaz." Then one of the girls in her brothel teaches her real-life arithmetic. "Half of what the men pay goes to Mumtaz. Then you must take away Rs 80 for what Mumtaz charges for your daily rice and dal. Another 100 a week for renting you a bed and pillow. And Rs 500 for the shot the dirty-hands doctor gives us once a month so that we won’t become pregnant... "I do the calculations. And realise I am already buried alive." — IANS



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