Standing in the customs line at the airport, I noticed a large group of portly, heavy-gold-chain-and-bracelet wearing middle-aged men waiting to board the same plane as I. “Must be one of those cheap-as-cheese package deals,” I told myself and didn’t dwell on it for another minute. It was only when my travelling companion told me that Bangkok, our destination, was known more than anything for its flesh trade that I felt the bile rising.
Experts put the Bangkok sex tourism industry (as it is crudely called) at $4.3 billion a year, about 3 per cent of Thailand’s economy. Although those men were travelling economy class, I was sure they were contributing significantly to Thailand’s burgeoning underage prostitute clan.

We landed in Bangkok bright and early in the morning. By day, the city shines like a gold medallion on the resplendent neck of a princess. By night, the princess sheds her robes of gold and dons dark, form-fitting clothes that reek of the prostitution inhabiting every lane of the city.

After 7, prostitution is everywhere in Bangkok. From the hidden crannies between roadside shops to the entrances of discos and clubs, from hotel lobbies to massage parlours, it is not hard to find a woman in near-nudity, brandishing her ware.

Like flies on bread
It was only a matter of time till I got a first-hand experience of this kind. I travelled to Bangkok in a group where there was a fair share of men. It only took an innocent question by one of the men about the famous Thai massage, and the bellboy was on him like flies on buttered bread.

“Beautiful girl, your room, ten minutes. 250 baht for full body massage, after that you speak to her,” the man said with a menacingly white grin. The poor gentleman in our group could only shrink back in fear.

But this was only in the hotel lobby. Out on the streets, pimps and mamasans (Thai for madams) are waiting to pounce on the unsuspecting male and lure him into one of their massage (code for sex) parlours, beer bars, go-go bars or strip clubs. On our first night in Bangkok, two of us women set out with two men from our group to get dinner at 1 in the night. I was just marvelling at the lovely night air in Bangkok— not too chilly but very pleasant— when I realised something was not quite right. Then it hit me.

Not one man was staring at me. Back in Bangalore, if I were to step out of my house for a casual walk at 1 am, I was sure to return home in a bodybag. Here, the locals left us alone. On the other hand, the men in our group were in grave danger of being molested by a mamasan or get dragged for a massage by a pimp. It was like being in a parallel universe!

Our quest to find a good restaurant took us into many alleys and what we saw there shocked us no end. Tiny restaurants, bars and massage parlours lit up in the most garish lighting— pink, blue and red— with words like ‘kitty’ and ‘rainbow’ splashed across their outer walls in bright neon. Girls of all shapes and sizes (usually petite and small) spilled out onto the road. While some looked quite old, heavily laden with makeup and dressed in clothes too young to look decent, some were barely over 15, dressed in the shortest black skirts, their long legs showing off fishnet stockings, or outfitted in the most vulgar nurse costumes. At every place were boards that advertised various kinds of massages with differing rates.

Dinner jaunt
Patpong is an area that is brimming with such bars. And one will find ample transportation to and from this hotspot. During our dinner jaunt, we heard of a night market on the outskirts of Patpong. We decided to brave the notorious Tuk Tuk (local autorickshaw— very fast and furious) and asked a couple of drivers to take us to Patpong. Immediately, what were about 2 or 3 drivers became around 25.

Our Tuk Tuk driver, not well-versed with English, graciously gave us a card which we innocently thought had the different meter rates for areas in the city.

The laminated card turned out to be a sleazy menu of all the various sex shows that he could take us to see.
Reading that list, I felt the bile rising again. I imagined my grandmother screaming out ‘abhachaaram’ in fluent Tamil. But the reality was right there in front of my eyes, on a laminated sheet of paper. Young girls, their bodies hardly mature enough to take all this torture, doing this day and night.

Prostitution is not legal in Thailand, but it is not prohibited either. Sex workers pay their taxes, are well taken care of by their government and a number of NGOs work with them to prevent the spread of HIV/AIDS. Still, the industry is growing and more girls join the trade.

When I see these teenage girls standing in their balconies, already looking tired with life, I wonder why they choose such a life.

Women here believe that prostitution is a way to avoid rape. It is a horrible choice. The beautiful princess of a city is not crying out in pain, she’s getting paid for enduring it.