By now, Maya Tamang had become suspicious of Jigmi. His interest in Radhika

raised doubts as to his motives in visiting her. House rule dictated that no client

was permitted more than three overnight stays. But in exchange for 600 INR

(£8.40), Jigmi had managed to persuade the Madame to allow him one last night

visit to Radhika.

He arrived at the brothel after work at around 7 p.m., immediately following

Radhika to her room. He had planned that they would rest until 3 a.m., then

make their way silently downstairs and leave via the front door. If any of the

burly security guards employed by Maya Tamang tried to confront them, Jigmi

would say that they were just going to buy liquor. He was sure his reputation as

a well-paying customer would afford him some bargaining power with them.

Radhika stuffed her meagre belongings – a pair of jeans, some shampoo, two

kurta salwar and a precious photograph of Rohan – into Jigmi’s rucksack and

waited. At approximately 3 a.m., the pair crept quietly down the rotten, creaking

staircase and along a tight passageway towards the front door of the brothel.

Radhika was terrified someone would hear them but incredibly, the security

guards were asleep and so the final escape into the world outside went as

seamlessly as Jigmi had planned.

Breathing in the muggy night air of the red-light district, Radhika felt free for

the first time in months. She recalls: ‘I felt like a caged animal that had been

released from captivity. Along the roadside, we walked past countless other girls

being forced to sell their scrawny bodies. One or two caught my eye and seemed

to sense that I was one of them. It was an exhilarating but terrifying feeling.’

Radhika was finally free. For the first time in a very long time she felt that she and Rohan might have a chance of a decent future with someone like Jigmi.

Jigmi’s one-bedroom apartment was only a brisk, 20-minute walk from the

centre of Sonagachi. It was on the third floor of a five-storey building and

notable for its absence of anything personal. There wasn’t a single photograph

anywhere or any of the personal objects that usually give a clue to a person’s

character. Despite this it was homely enough, with a few smart carpets and a

nice sofa and dining room table and chairs, although the white walls gave it a

slightly clinical air, Radhika felt. The flat suggested its tenant did little else in

life other than work and sleep. Still, it was a million times better than the brothel.

Once safely inside his apartment, Jigmi told Radhika to make herself at home

on the sofa, while he caught up with some sleep ready for work the next day.

Once again, he kissed Radhika chastely on the forehead and said goodnight to

her before retiring to a separate bed. She was so weary that she instantly fell

asleep, knowing that – for the moment at least – she was safe.

When Radhika awoke the next morning, Jigmi had already left and she found

herself slowly relaxing for the first time in many months. Rohan never slipped

out of Radhika’s mind for more than a few seconds and huge waves of guilt

broke through the brief moments of happiness she was able to feel at being free

of the brothel. But the pressures of working there were beginning to take their

toll and she was concerned that she might not have the strength to make it back

to Kathmandu if she did realize her dream quickly and rescue Rohan. She knew

that she had to rest while she had the chance. Who knew what lay ahead after

all?

Taking Jigmi at his word to make herself at home, she took a long soak in his

clean white bath, scrubbing the dirt and the squalor of the last few months off

her body, trying to make herself clean again.

Examining the smooth contours of her slim figure, she saw the evidence of her

forced trade on her body. Once, her pale olive skin had been flawless, now it

bore the scars of human trafficking. Most prominent was the ugly tear that ran

defiantly along her left side. It was a constant reminder of the terrible episode in

Chennai that had resulted in her kidney being stolen from her. To Radhika, it

was a symbol of her naivety and sheer powerlessness. And now cigarette burns

and a disfigured patch of skin near her right shin, caused by a kick from a drunken client were testament to her gallery of pain and degradation. She sought

solace in something one of her fellow prostitutes had once told her. ‘Scars are

beautiful. They are proof that you are a survivor.’ And that much was true.

Radhika was certainly proving herself to be a survivor along with her son,

Rohan. Now all she had to do was find him and get away from the city as

quickly as possible.

Jigmi returned home from work at around 5 p.m. that first evening, bearing a

bag filled with cooked rice, dhal and naan bread bought from the market. He

confessed to Radhika that he had never learned to cook and lived on takeaways.

Radhika, who still barely knew him, was touched by his kindness. She was also

impatient as she was anxious for them to make a plan to get Rohan back.

‘I was terrified I would be recaptured by Tamang before long and I felt guilty

for indulging in [such] luxury while Rohan was imprisoned somewhere terrible.

Whatever it took, I had to find him – fast.

‘Jigmi said he had started to make subtle enquiries in and around Sonagachi

about Rohan’s whereabouts and had a couple of leads that he promised to follow

up. He told me I should relax and regain some strength. At that moment, our

eyes locked.’

Well aware of what men wanted, Radhika knew that Jigmi desired her. ‘I

allowed him to pull me gently towards him and he began gently kissing my

forehead before moving to my neck and down towards my breasts. I had never

been touched by anyone like that before and it felt electrifying.’

But despite the chemistry between them and Radhika’s gratitude for what he

had done for her, Jigmi never demanded full sexual intercourse, a fact that some

might find baffling. Radhika, however, is still grateful to him for his warmth and

consideration at a time when she was at her most vulnerable. He did not demand

payment for his help, even though she would willingly have given it to him.

She comments, ‘Jigmi did not go further but I didn’t feel rejected in any way

because he had made me feel so special. I’m not sure why he stopped but he

didn’t seem to need sexual intercourse to feel fulfilled. I’m sure he had his own

reasons but we never spoke about it. It just felt wonderful to be touched as a

woman rather than mauled or pawed like an animal.’

For Radhika, who had been forced to have sex with up to 30 men a day, this

treatment was extraordinary.