Path To Atonement
Chapter Seven
It was a long, slow bus ride from Srinigar to Delhi. Anjana, Chandri and Madam Bandari were a few hours into the 16-hour, 500-mile ride, that traversed several mountain passes.
Anjana thought of her dead brother when they drove through the city of Pathankot on the Pakistan border. In 2016, five freedom fighters of the Kashmir-based United Jihad Council lost their lives in a day-long attack on an Indian air base located there. They attacked the base with AK-47s and grenades. A number of military personnel were killed. Her brother had lost his life fighting for the same organization, an organization labeled by India and the media as a terrorist group.
Chandri and the other observant Muslims on the bus insisted they stop at a roadside turnout just before dawn so they could pray. Chandri, wearing her customary long scarf, wrapped around the top and back of her head, as well as across her mouth and nose, stepped out of the bus with 15 others. They chose the most protected part of the turnout, hidden from view, to pray. Chandri and the others washed their hands from water bottles before praying. They faced what they believed was the holy city of Mecca and followed the ritual steps of prayer. Chandri always felt cleansed and closer to Allah after prayer. Anjana thought when Chandri sat back down next to her, She seems calmer, less anxious.
Anjana and Chandri woke up from a morning nap when the bus entered through the Ajmeri Gate and drove onto Garstin Bastion Road. There, the road was bordered by four-to-five-story buildings. The ground floors were shops. Many of the upper floors had bars on the windows. Women peered out of some of the barred windows.
Anjana and Chandri woke up the next morning groggy and sore. Anjana was half-awake when Mister Anand walked through her bedroom door, followed by Madam Kshatriya. He sat on one side of Anjana’s bed and shook her fully awake. Anjana cringed and tried to pull away—his looks and breath were too much.
Anand opened up an envelope and showed Anjana large color photos. A scream came unbidden from her throat. The photos showed men invading her every orifice. “How did you do this to me?” She looked beseechingly at Madam Kshatriya.
“Now, dear, everything will be fine. Mr. Anand will explain things to you.”
“There isn’t going to be a nanny job in the States. You’ll be a high-priced prostitute in San Diego if you behave. If you don’t cooperate with us, we’ll deliver the photos to your parents tomorrow. We may even drug you again and take more photos so they can view you from every possible angle.”
“You awful man!” Anand slapped her with the back of his hand across her face. It brought tears to her eyes.
“That’s not a good start, Anjana. We could let some of our kinky clients have their way with you and then throw you out on the street. You can join the other 3,000 prostitutes along G.B. Road. Those women you saw on the bus staring out of the upper floor windows—some of them have been there since they were ten years old. A number of their parents don’t care that they are prostitutes. Many were sold by their fathers into the sex trade.”
Madam Kshatriya said, “You’ll be fine. I was sold by my father to be a prostitute when I was five. I worked on G.B. Road for years until my special qualities were appreciated by this manor. Now, I’m in administration and live in my own home. Be smart. Make the best of it. If you cooperate, you can go home in two years and everyone at home will think you worked as a nanny.”
Anand said, “Think about it. Stay with us where we’ll ensure you’ll stay disease-free or go outside and be one more prostitute that gets AIDs. Or if you want, we can send you to one of our houses in Mumbai, none of which are nearly as comfortable as this. You will fit in nicely with the 100,000 or so prostitutes there.
We’ll be back to see you this afternoon. By the way, your door will be locked from the outside and we have special soundproofing for rooms like this where we train the newcomers.”
When they left, Anjana put her head in her hands and sobbed. She wasn’t going to let them see her cry.
Chandri shuttered when she was showed her photographs. Blood drained out of her face. She fainted. Anand brought her awake with a brisk slap. Madam Kshatriya passed a glass of water into Chandri’s shaking hands.
When Anand told Chandri that they would deliver the photos to her parents the next day if she did not cooperate, she became hysterical. Chandri wailed and beat her fists on her pillow. She muttered, over and over, “They’ll die of shame.”
Anand let Chandri cry herself out. When she finally looked up at her captors, her face was twisted in anguish. Then her face went blank. Chandri stared through them, through the wall. Her mind was locked in an unfathomable place.
Anand and Madam turned to go to the door. Before Anand closed the door, he said, “Chandri, you better pull yourself together and cooperate or your parents will die of shame.”
Anjana decided to cooperate. She would stay strong. She would wait for an opportunity. She would see her family again. She acted pleased when she serviced a few clients at night as she had been instructed.
Even Madam Kshatriya couldn’t get Chandri to talk. She was in a fugue-like state. Madams Kshatriya and Bandari spoke on the phone. She berated Bandari for sending her such a weak and damaged girl. Bandari let her know that Master Steve didn’t want to know whose fault it was. He just wanted a high-priced, beautiful girl in San Diego. If that didn’t happen, he would take it out on both of them. Bandari suggested that Chandri be put on a Xanaxregimen and be allowed to see Anjana in the daytime. Hopefully, that would bring her out of her funk.
Chandri began to function after a couple of days with Anjana and taking Xanax. Chandri told Anjana that she couldn’t pray anymore because she was unclean. She said, “I’ll never be clean again.”
Chandri even got through a few sexual encounters. The clients complained she was like a ragdoll.
Two weeks later, Chandri, Anjana, Mister Nguyen, and two other girls arrived at San Diego’s airport, clutching their Thai passports and student visas that had been forged in Vietnam.
Path To Atonement
Chapter Seven
It was a long, slow bus ride from Srinigar to Delhi. Anjana, Chandri and Madam Bandari were a few hours into the 16-hour, 500-mile ride, that traversed several mountain passes.
Anjana thought of her dead brother when they drove through the city of Pathankot on the Pakistan border. In 2016, five freedom fighters of the Kashmir-based United Jihad Council lost their lives in a day-long attack on an Indian air base located there. They attacked the base with AK-47s and grenades. A number of military personnel were killed. Her brother had lost his life fighting for the same organization, an organization labeled by India and the media as a terrorist group.
Chandri and the other observant Muslims on the bus insisted they stop at a roadside turnout just before dawn so they could pray. Chandri, wearing her customary long scarf, wrapped around the top and back of her head, as well as across her mouth and nose, stepped out of the bus with 15 others. They chose the most protected part of the turnout, hidden from view, to pray. Chandri and the others washed their hands from water bottles before praying. They faced what they believed was the holy city of Mecca and followed the ritual steps of prayer. Chandri always felt cleansed and closer to Allah after prayer. Anjana thought when Chandri sat back down next to her, She seems calmer, less anxious.
Anjana and Chandri woke up from a morning nap when the bus entered through the Ajmeri Gate and drove onto Garstin Bastion Road. There, the road was bordered by four-to-five-story buildings. The ground floors were shops. Many of the upper floors had bars on the windows. Women peered out of some of the barred windows. A few men entered narrow staircases to the upper floors from the street. The buildings had common walls. Many of the upper floors were stacked half-hazardously upon the lower floors. Some were set back and did not cover all of the lower space. Many floors were different heights compared to the rest of the floors of their respective buildings and the floors of the buildings attached to them. It looked like the structures were built by kids, using dirty brown and gray Legos.
After several blocks, the bus turned off Garstin Bastion Road and went down two blocks to a large building with a circular driveway behind a security gate. The driver showed his ID to the guard and was waved in. The pink building with stone terraces looked like a palace.
Chandri, Anjana and Madam Bandari were ushered inside by two uniformed doormen. Anjana saw a large room with gaming tables before entering an elevator. Madam Bandari took them to the sixth floor where they were introduced to Mister Palash Anand, a large man with slicked-back hair and hairs extending from his nostrils. Droplets of sweat beaded his face. Anjana shied away from him when he took a step towards her. A woman in her forties was at Mister Anand’s side. She was slender, well-dressed and had an engaging smile. Before Madam Bandari introduced her, she hugged the girls and said, “Call me Madam Kshatriya. I’ll be looking after you here. I’m so pleased that you’re here. You’re beautiful.”
Madam Kshatriya showed the girls to their respective rooms. She walked Madam Bandari to the elevator. Madam Bandari said, “Remember Damini, you need to have the girls broken in gently, especially Chandri, she’s sensitive. They’re valuable assets. They will be going to San Diego via the normal Vietnam route in a week.”
“Don’t worry, Daxa. I’ll treat them like the princess whores they’ll soon be.”
Anjana and Chandri woke up the next morning groggy and sore. Anjana was half-awake when Mister Anand walked through her bedroom door, followed by Madam Kshatriya. He sat on one side of Anjana’s bed and shook her fully awake. Anjana cringed and tried to pull away—his looks and breath were too much.
Anand opened up an envelope and showed Anjana large color photos. A scream came unbidden from her throat. The photos showed men invading her every orifice. “How did you do this to me?” She looked beseechingly at Madam Kshatriya.
“Now, dear, everything will be fine. Mr. Anand will explain things to you.”
“There isn’t going to be a nanny job in the States. You’ll be a high-priced prostitute in San Diego if you behave. If you don’t cooperate with us, we’ll deliver the photos to your parents tomorrow. We may even drug you again and take more photos so they can view you from every possible angle.”
“You awful man!” Anand slapped her with the back of his hand across her face. It brought tears to her eyes.
“That’s not a good start, Anjana. We could let some of our kinky clients have their way with you and then throw you out on the street. You can join the other 3,000 prostitutes along G.B. Road. Those women you saw on the bus staring out of the upper floor windows—some of them have been there since they were ten years old. A number of their parents don’t care that they are prostitutes. Many were sold by their fathers into the sex trade.”
Madam Kshatriya said, “You’ll be fine. I was sold by my father to be a prostitute when I was five. I worked on G.B. Road for years until my special qualities were appreciated by this manor. Now, I’m in administration and live in my own home. Be smart. Make the best of it. If you cooperate, you can go home in two years and everyone at home will think you worked as a nanny.”
Anand said, “Think about it. Stay with us where we’ll ensure you’ll stay disease-free or go outside and be one more prostitute that gets AIDs. Or if you want, we can send you to one of our houses in Mumbai, none of which are nearly as comfortable as this. You will fit in nicely with the 100,000 or so prostitutes there.
We’ll be back to see you this afternoon. By the way, your door will be locked from the outside and we have special soundproofing for rooms like this where we train the newcomers.”
When they left, Anjana put her head in her hands and sobbed. She wasn’t going to let them see her cry.
Chandri shuttered when she was showed her photographs. Blood drained out of her face. She fainted. Anand brought her awake with a brisk slap. Madam Kshatriya passed a glass of water into Chandri’s shaking hands.
When Anand told Chandri that they would deliver the photos to her parents the next day if she did not cooperate, she became hysterical. Chandri wailed and beat her fists on her pillow. She muttered, over and over, “They’ll die of shame.”
Anand let Chandri cry herself out. When she finally looked up at her captors, her face was twisted in anguish. Then her face went blank. Chandri stared through them, through the wall. Her mind was locked in an unfathomable place.
Anand and Madam turned to go to the door. Before Anand closed the door, he said, “Chandri, you better pull yourself together and cooperate or your parents will die of shame.”
Anjana decided to cooperate. She would stay strong. She would wait for an opportunity. She would see her family again. She acted pleased when she serviced a few clients at night as she had been instructed.
Even Madam Kshatriya couldn’t get Chandri to talk. She was in a fugue-like state. Madams Kshatriya and Bandari spoke on the phone. She berated Bandari for sending her such a weak and damaged girl. Bandari let her know that Master Steve didn’t want to know whose fault it was. He just wanted a high-priced, beautiful girl in San Diego. If that didn’t happen, he would take it out on both of them. Bandari suggested that Chandri be put on a Xanaxregimen and be allowed to see Anjana in the daytime. Hopefully, that would bring her out of her funk.
Chandri began to function after a couple of days with Anjana and taking Xanax. Chandri told Anjana that she couldn’t pray anymore because she was unclean. She said, “I’ll never be clean again.”
Chandri even got through a few sexual encounters. The clients complained she was like a ragdoll.
Two weeks later, Chandri, Anjana, Mister Nguyen, and two other girls arrived at San Diego’s airport, clutching their Thai passports and student visas that had been forged in Vietnam.