He asked her her about her.Did she have any crushes?She spoke of her smallish romantic life briefly and it seemed to her that he would think of it as well protected , and perhaps rooted in high culture.She worried about that a little, just briefly, because it made her seem attractive, and then abandoned the thought.He amused her, and it was’nt romantic.She greatly enjoyed his company, he seemed to lighten her up .She hoped that they would get to meet again, and knew that it was very likely that they would.She even thought that it was very likely that he would express interest in her.And this was why she didn’t give the idea too much thought; she thought it might be boring, her sister’s friends bored her beyond a point.They were a lot of fun , but eventually they all did, and she didn”t want to risk boredom.She just wasn’t interested.But they were a great lot.

Shagufta was the leader of the gang.When her sister related brief sexual escapades from Shagufta’s brave romantic life, they seemed brazen and amazing.She always listened to them with a sense of curiosity and awe, followed by disdain and perhaps even disgust.She wasn’t interested in her boyfriends, she found them too forthright. It seemed as if she carried herself in a formidable and entirely classy and protected sexual universe that she maintained with elan.To her sister, Shaista was the admirable and undisputed leader, Shagufta with her house full of brothers and sisters all living in splendid fun.

And then there was the incident that came to her mind everytime she thought of interesting kisses.Her sister had described to her an incident when Shagufta’s boy-friend kissed a peice of chicken out of her mouth.To her this seemed oppurtunistic at best.Not that she didn’t appreciate lovers making the best of their time together, or maybe her own imagination was too romaticised, but there was barely any hesitation here.And this, compared to the bareness of marital procedures; the rare sighting, and unfamiliarity of one’s partner was the alternative.

See the entire series here

At the office, Arthi was impatiently waiting for the boss the finish his meeting and let her go home.She wanted to be let off early, she was tired, not just because of what Jai and she had been doing but also because she other errands to run.She had a Accent Training class at Andheri near the station, and it would take her a good half hour to make it there on time.The mornings incident lingered on her mind, but she decided to ponder over it slowly, to savour it over time.She had had sex before , and had had just some time left to gather her stuff after finishing him off in the bath-room, she kept smiling through the day, even as he left to have lunch at home,to his wife.

Just as she was leaving, he called.

‘Aaj class mat ja’ (‘Dont go to class today’)

‘to phir kya karoon?’( what should I do then?)

‘pata nahin’

‘Aur, tumhari biwi kaisi hai?’

‘Theek thi, tum apni sunao’

‘Hamara kya hai, usi ko dekh kar jete hain jis kafir pe dam nikle’

‘Kya? Tumhari jaisi ladkiyon ko zyaada sar pe chaadhana nahin chaahiye.Tum jaisi to yahan se aye din dar bees guzarti rehti hain.’

‘Haan.to mera bhi number batado’

They carried on like this.He hated the power that she had over him and she was in it a little because she was a little in love with him, the bastard, and because she had no where else to go, this was just somewhere she had to be.

Sujata , waited for him to come home that night. And when he did, she wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t notice for some time, she was coaching his younger brother and sister for their exams. This was her usual schedule in the evenings, tuitions, then making dinner for them , and serving them…

As the work progresses I feel that this seems like too narrow a trail to pursue, and that the idea should be broadened to allow other people to contribute their ideas as well as work.The whole stigma attached to sex-work serves to disassociate the sex-worker and her/his trade and the lives of the people in and around this trade from the mainstream, the stigmas around sex and the nature of its association with morality are worth examining especially because of the way in which they seem to inhibit and oppress the lives of women.

So on a more hopeful note, the work is now collaborative and  participatory and will try to engage with community in every way it can.I invite interested artists and writers and to contribute their writing around these themes, and any form, from prose to poetry to photos to erotica and sexy journal entries is welcome.