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Natpurwa (Sandila), July 3, 2002.

From outside, this village with a population of 1200 is like any other village, where development remains a faraway dream. But Natpurwa, situated some 60 odd kilometres away from Lucknow, is a village where for the past 300 years, the populace indulges in one of the oldest professions known to mankind – PROSTITUTION.

There is no other profession known to Natpurwa. It's flesh that matters, and flesh that fills the hungry tummies everyday. From 13-year-old Rukma to 65-year-old Rajjo, they are all part of this vicious circle, which entangles them lifelong. “I don't know since when I started it. This was always there in my family,” says Aaji, a 55-year old woman, who, due to ill health, is no longer a 'hot item'. Anita, a new entrant, adds: “My mother did this, and so did my bua (aunt). So why can't I?” Radhia refuses bluntly to answer any query. Reason – she has a customer waiting and doesn't want to be “disturbed”.

While women (who are into business) are always dressed up in their best attire (“Yeh dukaan to saara din khuli rehti hai. Saamaan achchha rakhna padta hai,” this scribe was told), men can be seen either playing cards or drinking liquor (the village nullahs stink because of the liquor smell). Children, including young girls, are barely clad and play around, perhaps unaware of the entire scenario.

One villager, on being coaxed, informs that like women, men too indulge majorly in one profession. They are pimps to the women in their families. Those who aren't, do farming on little pieces of land and suffer silently. “I have kept my family away from this filth. When my daughters grew up, people told me to send them into this business. On my refusal, they used to threaten me of dire consequences. I finally got both my daughters married off in far off villages and haven't met them since then,” says Lalaram, one of poor villagers.

Customers do not belong to the capital city's crème alone. “The best girls get to go to Mumbai, while the not-so-good ones have to be contended with nearby townships like Hardoi,” says Rajia, who, along with her mother and two sisters, is a regular one to Lucknow. Ask them about the role of police, and a sly smile comes on their faces. “Main toh ek policewale ki hi hoon. Uski biwi-bacche alag gaon mein rehte hain, par woh yahan aata rehta hai,” informs Ramdulari. Others add that the policemen barge into their houses, steal everything they can get their hands on (including spoons and kitchen knives) and get off without paying for the 'services'.

Quite a few women are also dancers, performing in small programmes like weekly haat bazaars. But they are not as well off as the rest. “No one cares about our talent. It's only the pounds of flesh on one's body which sell,” says Binnu, a dancer. Some have stopped working too, but the number is too little. “When my son grew up, he felt ashamed and then, asked me to stop this. He is now working as a mechanic and we live on his earnings,” says Neera, adding, “Even we feel ashamed. I just wish that someone could bring some hope into our dark lives.”

Natpurwa is now opening up to look for new avenues. Two of the local lads are trying to change the way the village looks. They want to open up a school for the children and a training centre for the women to come, work and earn money without having to sell themselves. The writer is keenly interested to know if any individuals would love to come forward to help these lads either monetarily or by offering any other services. He comments would be welcomed.

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