plus a couple other friends hopped on a train to Mumbai. Our instructions were
to ditch the US politeness and get on the train even before other people are
done getting off, because the train stops for a good minute then on its way it
goes, and we can’t miss it. I instantly put my game face on, ready to check any
Indians standing in my way…
We got there, and it was less
stressful than what I thought it would be. The view during the train ride was
absolutely beautiful. The first day we got there we got to check out a red
light district. The next day we ended up having the opportunity to visit a
brothel that the friends we were with visit frequently (not as customers). The
brothel was a small one, off of a beaten path. As we approached, I noticed
there were about 13-15 women ranging from 15 to mid twenties dressed in
American clothing, and had a ton of make up on. There were a couple other older
women in Indian dress, off to the sides, not really interacting like the other
girls. There were a few guys there, one a Muslim who is getting married in
January. He is a customer at the brothel. They welcomed us with warm smiles,
and told us to have a seat after recognizing our friends.
My attention was drawn toward an
older woman who was sitting off to the side in her nighty. I asked (with a
motion) if I could sit next to her, she smiled and head bobbled (meaning yes
this time). I attempted to talk with her but it was clear she didn’t know any English
so we just sat next to each other. After about 45 minutes of our group talking with
the group we just met, the friend we were with said we should probably pray
with them and head on our way. As everyone was huddling together, the woman I
sat next to didn’t join, and since I felt God tugging on my heart to pray for
her specifically, I went back over there and sat next to her. I asked if I
could pray with her (motioning prayer and pointing to her) and she smiled, and
wrapped her fragile arm around my waste so that we were interlocked side by
side. When I was done she did a thank you sign, smiled big and squeezed my
hand. I blew her a kiss goodbye and she returned it, I air caught it and put it
in my pocket (ok I didn’t really do the air catch-pocket number). As we were
walking back to the train station, I was talking to Katie and Ro about how
sweet that lady was. They said “you mean the madam?” I couldn’t believe it didn’t
click with me that she was a madam of the brothel.
Initially, being completely honest,
I was slightly mad at God and confused of why he led me to sit and pray for her
specifically. I couldn’t believe that I just hugged, blew a kiss to, and prayed
for a woman who encourages other women to stay in such a harmful environment
and cycle. God strongly convicted me of this a few instances later by asking me
if I knew what I’d be doing if I grew up being a woman in India, raised by a mother
in sex work, or forced into it at a young age, or any other of the many reasons
women become sex workers and later madams. I couldn’t answer. I was embarrassed
of my initial reaction. I realized while thinking back on the prayer I prayed, the
biggest message God wanted me to give to her was God loves her, she is
beautiful in God’s eyes, and our God is a God of freedom. I don’t know Hindi so
thank God that the Holy Spirit is multilingual J
