Saturday, 8 December 2012

Silence isn't always golden

Our stereotypes for prostitutes are mostly negative. In most of the cases we blame them for their situation, little realising that given the circumstances, we would probably have done the same.

In this gut-wrenching, starkly honest article, a young girl describes how she clawed back into the light from the utterly black pit she had fallen into.

Surviving Prostitution and Addiction

Her story is one which needs to be met with understanding, empathy and compassion. Her voice needs to reach every corner, for we do not know what's happening behind closed doors. It could be happening to close ones, tomorrow it could happen to us, our friends, sisters, daughters.

I singe the body electric

In thin harrowing first-person account, a young girl narrates the story of her marriage gone wrong, how it descended into hell and how she escaped. Will the wounds ever heal? Will she find the courage to love again?

I singe the body electric

Let her testament be a beacon of hope for countless women trapped in violent and abusive marriages and may it give them the strength to walk out and claim their happiness on their own.


Thursday, 11 October 2012

The hand that rocks the cradle


The Winter’s air cannot chill you love,
For you were born to me
So bear the cold, till days improve
Wait, wait patiently.

My arms are weak from daily toil
Yet rest is forbidden now.
From labour and sweat I cannot recoil
For I must see you grow.

So lie under this tree, where I can watch
While I carry these bricks and sand.
I’ll wrap you in rags or a cold you’ll catch
Hush! don’t cry, for I’m near at hand.

Perhaps the future will be more benign
Perhaps our sweat will speak
And our lives will be free from hunger and pain
Till then your patience keep.

Till then, dear child, brave this chilly wind
Leaving you now,  I must go.
Against whom or how, we have sinned
I just can’t fathom now.

Doomed am I to this fate
But you must grow and discern
Why some have delicacies heaped on their plates
While some for bread crumbs yearn.

~ Nadira

Read original post here - The hand that rocks the cradle



Sunday, 24 July 2011

Innocent, doomed and dying

An HIV victim, 31-year-old Shanti, lives the life of a prostiture, paying the price for her dead husband's promiscuity and drug abuse.

Diseased, broken and deserted by her family, Shanti struggles to move her frail body as she recalls her 'tragedy', living in a slum about 200 kilometers away from India's prospering capital New Delhi. Her children sit on a cot amidst a swarm of flies.

When she discovered that she had contracted HIV from her husband, Shanti says, "I planned committing suicide many times, but couldn't bring myself to do it for the sake of my children. What would have happened to them if I abandoned them, they would have turned thieves."

With no support from the society and the government, Shanti has been pushed into prostitution, earning just enough to keep her withering body and soul together.

She represents the growing tribe of India's invisible women, known as HIV widows.

Soon after her husband's death three years ago, Shanti was thrown out of home by her in-laws family who blamed her for his death. Later her own parents, brothers and sisters deserted her. "No one from my or my husband's family came for his funeral," says Shanti.

Christuraj Puthotta, program manager of Indian Network for People Living with HIV/Aids in Chennai, says: "There is hardly any special scheme supporting HIV widows by National Aids Control Organization or the Indian government. "We are fighting to get them some financial support at par with India's huge majority of poor."

Lately, some Indian states like Andhra Pradesh, Gujarat and Orissa have offered financial support for the HIV widows, but the help seems insignificant. Orissa last year started a monthly pension of mere 200 rupees ($4); most HIV widows have to take care of their children as well as their own health.

Pooja Thakur, 26, president of Chandigarh Network of Positive People, herself was thrown on the streets along with her three children, of whom two are positive, after her truck driver husband died due to AIDS-related illness.

India has about 3 million people living with HIV, says UNAIDS, Joint United Nations Program on HIV/AIDS. Of them over one million are women. The first case of HIV was detected in 1986. The growing epidemic since has brought in its wake the increasing segment of HIV widows.

Considered bad omens, these widows lead a wretched life. They are treated as outcasts by their own families. The rural landless, illiterate widows are often exploited economically and physically, and live a life of shame and isolation.

"Those living in rural areas suffer the worst. Forget about medical help, they don't have the money to buy a bus ticket to reach a hospital," says Thakur.

Studies reveal over 80 per cent of HIV-positive women in India got the virus from their husbands who had extra-marital affairs or went to prostitutes. More than 90 per cent of HIV widows didn't live with their in-laws after their husband's death.

Thousands of women have been betrayed by the HIV men and their families who hid the men's positive status and transmitted the HIV to the unsuspecting women. Seema Patel, 21, learnt over her husband's funeral pyre that he had died of AIDS, and his family was aware of his positive status before their marriage. Like thousands of other innocent widows, she was thrown out of her husband's home by her in-laws.

"Why only women are made to suffer," asks Meena, who contracted the disease from her husband who was a 'chronic womanizer'. "Sin is of the husband, the wife suffers," she laments.

Stigma even in hospitals

Discrimination follows these helpless women even in hospitals. The medical staff judges them. The red stamp on their hospital cards declaring their HIV status haunts them. Vulnerable to opportunistic infections, they are compelled to visit hospitals for regular medical check-ups where doctors and other staff rarely show sensitivity.

"It hurts more when educated people behave callously. We are made to feel as if we are untouchables. The nurses don't touch us when we go to take blood tests. The attendants at pharmacy shops stare at us with a look of horror after seeing the stamp on our hospital cards. We have no privacy," complains Meena.

Widespread discrimination against the widows compels them to hide their HIV status at work places. "I live in constant fear of being found out," reveals Lakshmi, a domestic help, whose husband used to visit Mumbai's red-light areas and died due to AIDS infection.

Lakshmi fends for her two children. "If my employer comes to know of my disease, he would throw me out. God knows, what I would do then with myself and my children," she says.

The social stigma related to HIV runs deep in India. In rural areas, misinformation abounds about this "horrible disease". Common myths say AIDS can be cured by sleeping with a virgin. Or coughing and touching may transmit AIDS infection. Such myths lead to discrimination and isolation of HIV patients and force them into silence.

The HIV/AIDS legislation, which social workers say would ensure HIV-positive people's rights, has awaited the Indian parliament's approval for years.

The government has failed to create sufficient awareness about HIV. "People wrongly believe that one gets Aids only from illicit sex. The pressure on HIV-positives is so extreme that many warn us of committing suicide if their status is declared," discloses health counselor Ashwani Kumar of Family Planning Association of India.

Remarriage option?

Social workers advocate remarriage for bringing stability in HIV-widows' life. Some women organizations have come forward to bring HIV couples together, but the effort seems feeble in the face of an epidemic.

Ashwani says in eight years he has seen just two remarriages among HIV positive couples. "We got an HIV widow remarried to a HIV positive man whose wife had died. They both look much better now, health wise and emotionally. The marriage has rekindled in them some of their lost dreams and a desire to live."

Shanti tried to remarry but failed. "After a few rounds of discussions, the man withdrew. He wanted a working wife who could earn some money for him. I don't complain," says Shanti.

Without any financial and emotional support, necessary to carry on with everyday chores of life, Shanti, who works as a sex worker, has been reduced to an object of lust for unsuspecting men, to make ends meet. She also takes up part-time domestic jobs. Her health is deteriorating, she falls sick every now and then.

Taking care of her children's welfare is her only motivation to live on. "I have big dreams for my children, but don't even have the means to send them to a school. What can I do?" she asks.

By Manpreet Singh (China Daily)

Source - http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/cndy/2009-09/10/content_8674182.htm

Monday, 20 June 2011

A hand out of the horror

This tiny, humble woman is doing what most of us cannot even dream about. Ms. Anuradha Koirala is the Founder and Executive Director of Maiti Nepal. Born in Nepal and former English teacher, Ms. Koirala started Maiti Nepal in a small house in Kathmandu with her own savings. Today she is a widely recognized activist and lecturer who has dedicated her life to combating the sexual exploitation of women and children.

Her accomplishments have been recognized through numerous awards. Her work is often dangerous and requires great personal sacrifice. The criminal elements that "deliver" young girls are a ruthless enemy and have political connections at the highest levels in India and Nepal. Maiti Nepal's main office in Kathmandu has been destroyed twice and Maiti workers must travel with a bodyguard when overseeing rescue missions in India. In Nepal, girls as young as six are at risk for sex trafficking.

Her commitment has been an inspiration to her largely volunteer staff. Most of the workers are rescued girls and young women who are healthy enough to work. "They need little incentive from me," states Ms Koirala. "They are working to help their sisters and they know the horror of the victims." She adds, "Society rejects me and my girls, but they are the most important thing in my life."


Here's how you can help

or simply spread the word ...

Friday, 17 June 2011

The kite who would fly



These are the children with lost childhoods. Childhoods spent in the squalor of brothels, lascivious men, and parasitic pimps. Never knowing the comfort and warmth of family life, nor the support and affection of fathers, they watch as their mothers are abused, cheated, and grow old embittered. They watch from the fringes of society because they are forever marginalised, branded 'bastards' or prostitute's child'. A mark they will carry on their identities and their hearts throughout their lifetimes.

We, who are fortunate to be born in more fortunate circumstances, may not be able to help them much in real terms, but we can change our attitudes towards them, hold them in our hearts in prayer,and send them warmth, healing and strength.

Saturday, 4 June 2011

Last plea for help

This is one voice that will never speak again and for which there is no scope for empowerment simply because it is gone. But the others who are standing on the brink, poised to take their own lives, can most surely be empowered, can be turned back towards life. We condemn suicide as a cowardly act, an irresponsible step taken by someone who does not have the courage to cope with life, forgetting that our lack of empathy towards the phenomenon can fuel it even more. But more often than not, in our fast-paced, frenetic lives, we fail to notice that this person has been crying out for support in many ways, but which has been unacknowledged due to indifference, or ignored due to ignorance and an attempt at suicide is the heart’s last desperate plea for help. Yes, they are voiceless, because they speak in voices that we fail to hear, until they choose to silence that voice forever.

In the poem below, Roop Majumdar puts forward the point of view of someone who is about to take his or her own life.

I want to die because I can.
Because you said that you wanted me dead.
I want death because I understand
the maggots inside your head.

I'll be gifted the respect I seek
when I die so you can keep
my rights that you're dying to read
to me at my grave.

I will deny you the secret pleasure
of hating me if I live on.
People will bay for your blood
if you hate me after I'm gone.

I am as condemned as you are.
Since both of us will end up dying.
So I will take the plunge first.
You see, I've had enough of trying.

No, I will not haunt you.
You suffer just fine in denial.
My body is easy to get over.
It's my love that'll take a while.