As her trembling soul waited for the next man to enter her forlorn life through that dingy door, she raised a question to God: Why am I used like a toy? My body is served to quench the thirst of sadistic men, no one looks beneath this body. That girl of eight, ten years back did not know what the daughter of a devadasi (temple prostitute) was destined to be, until that fateful day when she was sent to the brothel and undressed by a man 30 years older to her, for a mere ₹200.
God, do I not deserve a life of dignity and respect? My swollen eyes, wounded forehead because of the constant thrashing (by the devilish men for reasons unknown to my anguished soul) and my bruised back does not remind your fellow children of what the true meaning of humanity is? Am I not a human? Do I not have feelings and emotions?