Barbala by Vaishali Haldankar
I never thought of myself as a prostitute. There was a corner in my mind, where I had installed my own image, which was very pure, untouched. It was the image of an artist. I always wanted to cherish it, take care of it. Was it possible? Outwardly, everyone was trying to take advantage of my situation. The male members always seem to get the signal that I am an easy target and can be crushed by anybody, anyhow. What worst was yet going to happen to me now? Nothing had gone right. Everything had gone wrong. All wrong deeds have already been done. The worst had already happened in my case. But I was prepared for everything. I did not want to compromise with the hunger my children would suffer from. I wanted it nowhere in my sight. I wanted a good life for my children. No, I was not planning very big events or careers for them. My expectations were very meager, still how much would I live? And, how would I live?
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