Sells her body, why’s nobody upset?

Renu Khajuria

“A grown-up woman deciding to sell her body is her business; the morality of it lies and dies with her.” The retort still rings clearly in my ears. I didn’t have the nerve to tell her it was illegal, forget the morality debate. Not that she would have cared. I did ask her about a young migrant girl standing not far from the spot, waiting for a client, without a doubt, like her. “That is not good,” she replied, “being forced into prostitution is bad.”

I looked at both of them. It was bad. So blatant, so unreal, so wrong. Be it Chandigarh, or any other place.

Am I overreacting? Firm yourself up, advises Dr Surjeet Kaur Pannu, founder member and patron of the Family Planning Association of India, Mohali branch.

At 70, Dr Pannu seems an unlikely crusader for women into prostitution. She is an impassioned one. She explains how frequent police raids do result in pimps, women and customers ending up behind bars for some time, but getting bail is not difficult and the business thrives.

“That is because sex between consenting adults is not an offence. The racket is fashioned in such a manner that the arrangement between the customers and the girls looks like physical relations between consenting adults,” she says. “Thus, it becomes difficult to book the suspects under sections of the Prevention of Immoral Trafficking Act (PITA), which is non-bailable.”

Over the years, Dr Pannu says, the number of women she has had to help has only gone up. As a result, there is greater focus on sex education. What has not changed, she points out, is the excuse given by those into prostitution. “The standard reason given is that they need to do this to cater to their children or an ailing family member. I have finally started believing that nobody actually wants to work hard and earn. This short-cut to a good life may cost them their health, some may also end up with life-threatening diseases, but who is complaining? If the mother loses life to a disease, the daughter learns the process.”

Dr Pannu narrates cases of two of the countless women she has come in contact with. From a lower middle class family, this particular woman had studied up to Class X. Harassed by her in-laws, she got divorced and decided to take care of her two sons all by herself. She worked as a security guard and a saleswoman, but things were not looking up. She was smart, good with customers. She took a shot at sex trade, and refuses to give it up.

Dr Pannu has tears in her eyes as she talks about the woman who was brought to their health centre in a slum colony a year and a half back. “She could barely stand. Like she wanted to pee but could not and hence was crying out in pain. Her vagina hurt badly. When the doctor checked her, it appeared like she had been ruthlessly raped. Her husband was in a tearing hurry as a client was waiting at a rented accommodation. All he asked for was a painkiller, saying he would bring her back. They never returned.”

Several similar cases made Dr Pannu’s team realise how women in slums were being forced or voluntarily indulging in sex trade since the returns were twice the labour work, after paying off the agents.

Zoya R. Sharma, president of the Aruna Asaf Ali Memorial Trust and a member of the Police Complaint Authority, says the root cause is the attitude of the society and of course the male in the family and outside. “Every third day I encounter a case of a husband beating up the woman in a drunken state and then indulging in forceful sex. So, a woman feels that if the same thing is done outside, at least she would get some money without the thrashing. She can at least run the household. Actually women feel empowered in this trade,” she adds.

Women mostly from West Bengal, Bihar and the North-East are brought to the tricity by agents on the “false promise of jobs at good homes, but once they enter the city, they are sold to the pimps”, says Zoya. “Even if after a year or so they are desperate to go back home, they cannot do so. The fear of the family not accepting them back is a big trauma. So they keep living without a soul.”

“Apart from girls being brought to the city from other states, there are around 3,000 sex workers active in Chandigarh who are migrant labourers,” claims a volunteer at Dr Pannu’s NGO. “We cannot stop them. So we give free condoms and medicines so that they don’t get life-threatening diseases like HIV at least.” Zoya’s Trust educates them on going in for regular check-ups and has a centre that provides vocational training to encourage them to leave the trade. “We cannot stop anyone; the least we can do is educate them on the issue,” she says.  

Jasmine, a Sub-Inspector at the Phase XI police station in Mohali, says most of the women are forcefully made to work in sex trade. “Only a few work for easy money. In the tricity, the girls arrested during raids are usually from other states. In most cases, they are let off and the pimps and customers are arrested.” 

Dr Pannu also talks of the real crisis at hand (as I see it): young educated girls indulging in sex trade. “Many people claim that large-scale unemployment is the real reason. Many girls coming to the tricity for education are now involved in such trade. What do these girls need? Money to pay their fee? No! What they need is a ride in swanky cars, high-end clothes, iPhones and iPads. This is the kind of culture mushrooming. Who is complaining? Not their parents. They have no clue,” she says.

Her organisation holds group meetings, advocacy events, awareness camps, heath check-ups, satsangs, condom demonstration and distribution. AIDS cases from last year have dropped from 20 to 12, she says, finally a smile on her face. Her organisation with the help of the India Alliance for Child Rights and Child Welfare Council, Punjab, also provides financial assistance to children of sex workers afflicted with HIV.

Of course it’s upsetting, Dr Pannu answers my query. “But one has to be pragmatic. Making a difference is what matters. If some leave sex trade, it’s a victory but the next challenge is survival. So, it is a continuous process. Much like life.” Such is life.  

(The writer is a Tribune staffer)