The morning was sultry, humidity levels soaring and I left home at eleven for more interviewing. At Taratala, I met Pooja, a sixteen year old girl, and her three sisters. Pooja has a jhopdi to call home, and her mother begs for food and coins to keep body and soul together. But Pooja has more to tell; her personal life has been unhappy, although her mother has not beaten her up in the last few years.
At fourteen, Pooja fell in love with and married Mansur, a twenty one year old daily laborer. They eloped, and within months, she missed her cycle. Her husband didn't take her to the doctor. Three months later, Pooja hemorrhaged,and was driven out of her in-laws' shack in that condition. Mansur was serving six weeks for a drunken brawl.
I nosed around a bit for more information, and Pooja revealed that her mother occasionally resorts to sex work when earnings from begging are low. It was unclear whether she herself has ever been pimped.
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