As I was just nine when I started to work (in a clay mine), I had none of the heavy responsibilities that worker women usually carry... I got Rs 1.50. When everyone bought rice and provisions, I bought some too. I tucked the rice, chillies and coriander into my towel and stepped into the house like an important person, only to find my mother in tears. Her hope was that I would become someone big through studies.

A new job

I started sex work after my husband's death, when his mother began demanding a really large sum from me daily to support my children... My mother-in-law asked for five rupees every day.

I discussed this with my friend Kartyayani... she told me about Rosa Chechi of Thrissur. She apparently had a job there; I could earn money if I joined her. What sort of work, I asked. You'll have to 'go along with' a man, she replied. No one would openly mention sleeping together or sex. ...

Rosa Chechi told me we were to go to a place where a police officer was entertaining people. I went along with her... I was standing, relaxed, when he came in. A man in a gold-bordered dhoti, with a sandal mark on his forehead... His behaviour towards me that night was very tender... This was the person I had dreamt of, the lover who appeared in my fantasies.

The same handsome man handed me over to the police in the morning. ... As soon as we came to the police station, the caning started. We were caned on the soles of our feet... In between beatings the Assistant Station Inspector jeered, "So what did you think? That if you slept with 'saar' at night, he wouldn't tell us?"...

After this, I decided to go to Vavannur to get away. I rented a house there along with Rosa Chechi, Sheela, Kartyayani and others. Rosa Chechi was our leader... In general, those were happy days that flew by fast. I used to send home money very regularly.

Though I was not in a situation where I could go back home, they accepted my earnings. The usual method was to send the money to my husband's mother through a woman friend...

Once, the sum I had sent came back unclaimed. I made enquiries through a friend. Apparently, my husband's younger brother had gone off to work in the Gulf and was sending plenty of money back home. So they had decided not to accept my money.

The fear was that if they accepted my money, I might claim my children later. I had got into this trade to support my kids. Like any other job, this one too had been tiring at times. I'd carried on only for their sake. Now that responsibility had ended; I began to think of other options, including that of leaving the trade.

One day Sheela and I were roaming in the vicinity of the KSRTC bus station when a fairly good-looking man alighted... It was apparent that he was looking for a woman. ...he gave me 200 rupees and asked all about my life, how I happened to have a baby with the Muslim name Zeenat. Once he had heard everything, he asked, "Are you interested in living with me?" I was wary, in the light of my earlier experience. But he persisted. He said we could live as husband and wife, that he would bring up Zeenat like his own child. For the next 12 years, I didn't have to struggle to raise my daughter. ...

The terrible times started in 1994. I fell ill suddenly, caught completely by surprise. Now all my money had been spent on medical treatment... I was back on the streets with 13-year-old Zeenat. Where were we to go? My body would not allow me to do sex work. What to do, then?...

 Rehabilitation