Cover of Nalini Jameela's book, Romantic Encounters Of A Sex Worker

Coffee break was when we actually talked to each other-sweet talk in the mud quarry parlance. We would be teased by the people standing around. One day my relative asked me: 'Is he going to marry you?' He was from a very wealthy family. He owned a lorry and was financially well off. However much I may dream, I would have never thought about the possibility of him marrying me. All the same, I let that thought roll around in my mind, and it kept me happy. I knew full well that this was a fleeting dream. With an agonising intensity all the emotions whirled inside me. I wanted to meet him again and again, and waited impatiently for the afternoons to come and then for four o'clock to arrive when we could stop work.



After having handed over the lorry to Prakashan, he would be waiting for me by the wayside. On seeing me, he would give me a signal by taking the kerchief off his head and then tying it back. Seeing this, my friends would say, 'Look, there he is, waiting for you. Go, get your wages and scoot.' I would be in heaven, I had somebody to care for me, something to look forward in life. When the ridge we walked on came to an end, it felt like the whole world had come to an end. Then came the torturous night and again the wait for the morning.



At night my mother would ask me to do some chores in the kitchen, like washing dishes. I would be recollecting all that happened during the day and be smiling to myself.



Seeing this smile, my family would get worried. They would ask me what I was dreaming about. My friend Ammini had a grandmother; I didn't. She told me how her grandmother had kicked up a fuss, asking her whom she was dreaming about. She too was in love.



I would once again slip back into the memories of last day's leave taking. How he had waved me goodbye. Johnny was very tall and could be seen from very far. That's why I walked in the end, I watched him until he disappeared as a tiny dot in the horizon. A lingering desire gnawed inside me to keep on seeing him for some more time. Oh, the thrill of narrating all this to my friends!



We used to bathe in a small stream. In the stream, scattered around were stones used to wash clothes. The gang of youngsters would gather around one such stone. Small matters would be narrated, of course exaggerated, in those gatherings. Everybody around would get caught up in the story, 'Then what did he say? Did he remain silent as Prakashan was around?'



Ammini was in love with Ramankutty. She would say that Ramankutty never filled her basket to the brim. That's how it is done. Those who are in love would heap the basket in such a way that though it seemed to be full, it would not be so.



Someone would seriously say that, 'He has promised to buy me a brassiere.' We used to call it kettu bodice. A brassiere is definitely a better gift than either a blouse or a mundu. This is something that a woman hides. There is secrecy in it. They would ask if I had received any such thing. I hadn't yet reached that stage. I would ask them if the thought of going astray by receiving such gifts had ever crossed their mind. They would retort that the groom-to-be wouldn't bother about a brassiere that he knew nothing about.



I was arrogant enough to consider myself a very steady sort of person, and I would always be right. I felt that being a woman from a reputed household, I should guard my virtue. Till then, I had not thought about physical relationship. My relationship with Johnny had only one possibility - the possibility that begins with the day and ends in the day itself. I could still feel Johnny's kiss.



His face is preserved in my mind: his calm and handsome face. It was the face of someone who cared for others. I have not felt the same with anyone else.



***



Two policemen entered and looked me all over and straightaway asked, 'Family?'



Without delay I replied, 'Yes.' As if they were taking attendance at school. One question, one answer. When your name is called, you yell in reply, 'Yes, Sir'; just like that, 'Family?'



'Yes.'



After the question, they rushed ahead. They had to catch women and men in other rooms before any of them escaped.



They had already started climbing up the stairs when the SI did an about turn and asked me again, 'You said you came with your family?' Again I answered, 'Yes'. Still I hadn't left my position by the door.



They went up to the next floor. There were about twenty-four rooms in the lodge. They went through all these rooms and came down again. In between, I had closed the brandy bottle and hidden it in the bed. The glasses were washed with soap.



'You said your family is with you?'

'Yes!'

'Who is with you?'

'My husband!'

'Where is he?'

'Gone out.'

'Why has he gone out?'

'To the medical college.'

This medical college plan had shaped up within the brief time I was waiting for the police to come down.

'Who is in the medical college?'

'Amma.'

'Which is your husband's place?'

'Kottayam.'

'When you have a medical college in Kottayam, why come here?'



Till then everything went according to the plan. Mother is in the hospital. Husband has gone to visit her. I had even planned the ward in which she is lying. But when they started asking about Kottayam, the plan collapsed.



'Sir, give me just two minutes.'

'For what?'

'For...my house is in Thrissur. Amma is staying here in Thrissur and she was taken to the hospital here. But my husband is from Kottayam. His people and Amma's people are not on good terms. We had come here to meet her jointly. My husband went in advance to check whether Amma is in the hospital, and if anybody else from my home is there with her. After that, I will go and see her.'



I said all this at one go. I was afraid; this story entered my mind like lightning while groping around to get out of the tricky situation. This was not a capability of mine alone. On becoming a sex worker, many acquired this skill. A good sex worker is also a good storyteller; not necessarily a pretty person. The story should be logical.



When the police arrests me with a man, they separate us. As soon as we are caught, we would say that we are husband and wife, to escape being beaten up and being detained.



'Where is your house?'

'In such and such place!'

'And yours?'



And often when questioned separately, the story would fall apart.



'Is her house thatched?'

'No, Sir, it is tiled.'

'Hi, is your house thatched or tiled?'

'Thatched, Sir!'



Thus husband, wife, everything comes crumbling down. So, this storytelling should be part of the planning starting right from the moment you decide to take a room. To me, this came very spontaneously.



Anyway, the police left me after hearing the story. As I said, I was in Room Number Two. The cash counter was just one room away. The person sitting at the cash counter became a fan of mine, listening to this exchange with the police! He came to me:

'Hey, what is your name?'

'Nalini.'

'How did you send them off?'

'Why, you saw them leave?'



To tell the truth, I was relieved to get back my life. I came here to make money in four days. If I too ended up in jail, I would lose my daughter as well as my husband.



My mind was in a turmoil. The person from the cash counter was not convinced with the explanation that I had given to the police-that my husband had gone out.





'They won't believe if you tell them your husband has gone out.''I will tell the story in detail later. To begin with, you can help us find a good deal.'Actually, this way of speaking would not work with every manager. Especially since Vijaya Lodge appeared to be somewhat decent from the outside. There were many well-to-do people coming and staying at the lodge. They were usually given rooms on the first and second floors.***The ticket counter at Jose Theatre had a men's queue as well as a women's queue. It must have been the queue for the second-class tickets. Not for the first-class one, that's for sure. My eyes were engrossed in searching for anyone who might be looking at me.Then I would have to strike up a conversation with them and only then could I go with them somewhere. This was a queue for the first show in the evening. If I am unable to find someone even after the show was over, my whole life would vanish in a puff of smoke. Those were the times when women could not go around Thrissur town at night alone. Especially young women in this profession, and I belonged to this category.It was during one such frantic search that I got to know Babu. He had a small suitcase with him. He came to me and asked if I could get a ticket for him.He looked two or three years younger to me. Or we might have been of the same age. Maybe his expression deceived me into considering him younger. He was tall, lean and very straight; looked a lot like our film actor Sreenath. And deep down, I felt like a mother. Anyway, I had two kids. I felt like a tharavattamma. I gave him the once over. More out of habit. Also, would this guy fool me? Was there a chance of him taking me on? All these were implied in that glance.Guess what he did then! He scrutinised his pants and pulled up the zip straight. It was before pants had become so common; mundu was the common wear for men. I couldn't help smiling. I was not looking at that. I was wondering whether I should go with him as he looked so young.But while he was straightening his zip, he glanced at me and wet his lips. He was not able to stand my scrutiny.Again, he asked if I would get him a ticket. I replied that I would if he gave me money for it. Immediately he asked, 'Can you take two?'I got angry, 'Yes, you begin with one and now it is two. Give me the money.'He gave me money. One for me, two for him-I took three tickets. I didn't guess that one of the two tickets was for me. When I gave him the tickets he said that one was for me.'Why? Why do you have to take a ticket for me? Don't I have any money of my own?' I was still angry.So, he knew how to approach women. He sidled up to me, noticing how I was looking around. After we had settled into the seats, he asked, 'Where will we go this night?'I hadn't yet decided whether he could become a client or not.'Where to spend the night? Where do the others spend theirs? I will go home!''That is a lie. This time of the night is not a time to be out.'Actually, we were not watching the movie. I didn't have a clue about the movie we were watching.Straightaway I asked him, 'What do you mean?''We will take a room.''Will anybody give you room?'To tell the truth, he was more mature than me. But I behaved as if I was more mature. After all I was the mother of two kids. I was this terrible person, married, with a husband! That was why I was asking whether anyone would give us a room if I went with him. Instantly he said, 'So we will take room?''Yes, we will.''Then let us get out after intermission.'So, he wanted to get out in between. Seemed to be in a mighty hurry.'Look, let us not get out at intermission. People might think we came here for something else.' (What else? As if we were so virtuous!)He replied, 'But we might not be able to get the bus if it is too late.''Then we won't watch the movie; let's find a room.''No, let's watch it for a bit, till it turns a bit dark outside.''But by then, they will have closed the gate and won't open it until the end.''We will get them to open it, saying that we will miss the bus.'The guy seemed fairly familiar with the routine. So, after the first half of the movie, we came out. Even the name of the movie had not registered in my mind. Once we got out, I was closely watching the people around us. I was worried whether they were noticing us walking together, but nobody was paying any attention. Those days, I used to think that we were kind of hoodwinking society. Now I don't think like that. But in those days, this feeling that I was a cheat always made me look around for affirmations of my duplicity. We walked on until we reached the private bus stand.The private bus stand was not very far from the theatre. It was in the shape of an 'L', located in front of the municipality office. I told him, 'Babu, nobody seems to have noticed us.'He said, 'Shut up, somebody might hear you.'

The Thrissur Medical College had not yet come up at that time. Instead, in its place, near the rice market was a space frequented by the rowdies. That night, I was able to walk fearlessly through that area.