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My parents will not be able to identify me anymore. There is a huge difference between my present appearance and the malnourished look of my childhood. I am healthier than before and fit to serve a lot of customers in a day. It was a quieter evening than in hectic Dhaka. The gentle breeze of spring surrounded the cold atmosphere of the small town of Tangail, a town in the north east of Bangladesh. The bright tungsten lights of grocery shops and the high volume of Bangladeshi pop music from the tea stalls mesmerize the whole area.
Between those stalls the alleyways on the other side of wide drains are dark. Following my fixer I suddenly found myself inside one of those narrow lanes, where young girls with heavy makeup and colorful clothes were lined up.
The girls of different ages, though mostly teenagers, try to draw the attention of men by laughing, chuckling and pulling their hands. The neighborhood of around a hundred of buildings with more than small rooms is one of the 14 official brothels of Bangladesh but are in essence a prison for around sex workers.
The young sex workers of this brothel must serve at least customers each day. He raped me again and again. It was bleeding severely and I was crying. Hashi cleans some small fish as she prepares for dinner. I notice that despite her age, physically she looks mature. The drug can be found in any tea or cigarette stall around the brothel.
No one needs any prescription to buy Oradexon. She said, I have to look more healthy and beautiful. I first rejected her offer. She beat me up and stopped giving food. She threatened me and reminded me about my loans. But I have no choice to go back to normal life anymore. I have a four-year-old son.