In Search of Eggs & Sex....

You would not believe, but it is true.

If you are travelling on the highways of western Madhya Pradesh, try asking at roadside dhabas or decent restaurants for egg curry or burji (scrambled egg with tomato, onion, green chillies with spice) either in truck or SUVs.

You will be met with a firm, but a polite “No”.

Why? “This is a Jain-dominated area,” explains Dharam Veer Chaudhry from Haryana at whose massive dhaba we halt around 4 p.m. for our lunch. (Jains are pure vegetarians. They don't even touch garlic and onion).

Co-traveller and TRANSTOPICS Editor October-end born fortyish, but boyish-looking Girish Mirchandani and of course yours truly are crystal clear: no egg, no lunch. Significantly, both of us are vegetarians - rather eggetarians. 

So we halt at many dhabas on State Highway No. 31 or National Highway No. 79 asking, “Bhaiya, anda hai?”  (Sir, do you serve egg preparations?) only to be negatived.

Pissed off is a mild expression.

At last, we find Tauji’s dhaba @ Dodar – situated between Mandsaur and Jaora.

What actually attracted us is the huge line of Agarwal Packers & Movers (APM) vehicles in the courtyard  one of the most well known and reputed logistics firms in India.

“I bet this dhaba won’t have eggs as well,” opines Girish.

What makes him so say? I demand.

“APM is Ramesh Agarwalji’s company. He's vegetarian to the core. These chalaks (Drivers) working for him ought to be Veggies,” reasons Girish, on his maiden long trip on highways with me to get a first hand knowledge of truck drivers’ zindagi (world).

 

Yet, Tauji - who bought the zameen for Rs.13 lakhs five years ago and turned into the ‘mashoor dhaba’ (well known highway eatery) on this stretch, confirms that he would be able to serve eggs.

Wow... At last... Eggs going to be on our plates .... (Not on our faces!)

We troop in to chat up with APM drivers and Tauji.

Okay, the search for egg is likely to end positively soon.

What about our collective search or urge to know more about commercial sex workers on this stretch?

Have we not been advised by dozens of truck drivers and transport blokes not to miss checking out Dodar area – famous for prostitutes who service truck drivers?

We are in Dodar and why miss a chance?

But.... how to open the topic?

I take courage and ask Tauji...

“Burra mat maniyega (Don’t mistake me!)... Is it true this highway has a large presence of prostitutes?”

Krishna Kant Sharma, our driver since we left Indore more than a week ago, is watching the unfolding drama. This MP Brahmin driver, who has traversed this route for several years, has confirmed the belief 2-3 days ago.

“Kya chahiye?” (What do you want from them?) asks Tauji mischievously.

“Hame kuch nahi karna hai.... sirf baat karni hai yeh auraton ke saath,” (We just want to talk to them. Nothing else!), I tell Tauji - dispelling his doubts about moral compass needle!

APM drivers are watching us closely.

Tauji smiles.

“Worry not. Look at those huts at the entrance to our dhaba. They are whom you are looking for,” he says.

“Tauji, you must introduce us,” Girish jumps in.

“Chinta mat karo. Mein kar doonga,” (Don’t worry. I will do the needful) promises Tauji. 

“Pehle kaane to kaalo,” (Eat first) advises the Haryanvi eatery owner.

Must tell you this...

In the past 48 hours we have spotted several hutments on this stretch as we shuttle between Ratlam and Neemuch (150 km distance) and noticed ‘colourfully dressed’ young and old girls/women on the highways.

They were there for the asking, so to say. Sharmaji, shy by nature, slows down our vehicle with the idea of helping us to pick up courage and ask him to halt and step out. Somehow, neither Girish nor I have the courage to step out, go to them and say, “Hello.... Can we ...?”

Can we.... what?

What if they mistake us for 'potential clients' seeking physical pleasure?

Our middle class pseudo moralistic stance perhaps raises its ugly head.

Girish looks for 'directions' from me - he being younger to me.

Am definitely a coward. Could not take that call.

Driver Sharmaji, am sure, must be equally curious to know why these blokes from Mumbai and Delhi want to meet ‘prostitutes’.

He never asked us that question, no doubt.

We kept insisting to Sharmaji that our journey will be incomplete without a rendezvous with these prostitutes. So desperate we were.

Actually I was more eager than Girish.

Why, you may ask.

Over the past four years I have travelled 21,000 km in trucks on Indian highways and written three books. And, significantly, the chapter “Sex @ Hubli” included in my second book, Naked Banana! drew more interest than any other subject.

Sex is an interesting subject to harp on. That’s human psychology.

One more chapter, “Sex on highways” while passing through Bareilly-Meerut stretch also flashed through my mind.

I was looking for nuggets to complete the ‘triology’ on sex on highways.

Now is the biggest opportunity and not wanting to miss it.

Lunch over, we walked up to Tauji.

“Tauji, chale? (Sir, can we go?)” I asked.

With a twinkle, he led both of us to the hutment perched on the periphery of his dhaba.

The row of huts, made of mud walls and tiled roof, stood there.

At two-three feet below the highways level.

On the verandah, we noticed an elderly “madame” sitting there munching something and surrounded by two young girls in colourful salwar kameez.

Two twentyish youth were sprawling on the cot, talking to her.

No, they were not ‘clients’ but part of the business perhaps.

The girls giggled.

The men looked and just ignored us.

Another lean lady squatting on the doorsteps of the two-room hutment mumbled something to ‘madame’.

She saw Tauji and smiled.

Tauji said something in hushed tones.

He was standing very close to her.

Girish and I were still on the highways.

Heartbeart could be heard miles away. Anxiety.

Will she? Won’t she?

Tauji turned to us and said: “You can, now” and left us there.

Girls moved out.

Men turned their back.

The squatting lady moved in quietly.

Madame stood up.

“Kya baat karni hai?” (What do you want to talk?).

Both of us mumbled something.

She signaled us to come down from the highways.

“Not in the open. Come into this room,” she said pointing to the second room with a door.

Few more girls in the next hutment sitting on the cots in the open were watching us curiously.

Maybe they thought we were ‘negotiating’ rates with madame!

If the terms are not agreeable, maybe they can ‘have’ us .... Is this what they were thinking? I don’t know.

Madame entered the hut and we followed.

Nonetheless, her body language and attitude was not friendly.

Who the heck these chaps are? What they want to talk?

There was a mat and a pillow on the cow-dung plastered 6 by 4 feet low-ceilinged hut.

She quickly sat on the mat and Girish moved in next to her.

I took the cow-dung plastered ground space.

“Bolo,” (Shoot) she began.

Girish explained to her about our ongoing study of truck drivers lifestyle on Indian highways.

She nodded.

“How much you charge per driver?” That was Girish.

Rs.200-250/per sitting. Or bedding!

How long they stay with girls?

They come. They do their act. And they walk about.

All in a matter of few minutes.

“Lekin, why you want to know these things?” she demanded.

We can sense her aggression.

Our fear was that she should not mistake us for some police raid or something.

“Look,” I began, “these drivers are ill treated. Nobody respects them. When they seek your services, are they aggressive to take out their frustration on your girls?”

“Nothing of that sort. They come. They do. They go,” Madame repeated.

There was a short pause.

To break any negative vibes, I said: “We are not police. We are writers.”

“So what? We don’t worry about police.”

“How long you have been in this trade?” – Girish

“We don’t keep records.... May be for years,” she blurted out.

“What kind of conversation takes place between drivers and your girls?” I asked.

She gave a dirty look.

No response.

Then she said: “Over? Go now!”

Girish was surveying the room and found packets of condom lying on the ground.

The room smelt of liquor.

I signaled to Girish  that the ‘meeting with madame’ is over and it is time to scoot.

We exited.

She followed us.

Men on the cot ignored us.

Girls in the next hutment kept a vigil.

So quick? That too, two men and one lady?

We thanked Madame and climbed onto the highway.

Though I carried my Sony Handycam, I did not have the courage to click a picture of Madame or the hutment.

Even before moving out Tauji’s dhaba, Girish made it clear that he would not carry his Canon. If necessary, he will use his Iphone camera.

None of us shot a single frame during the meeting with madame which possibly must have lasted a little over 5 minutes.

As we re-entered Tauji’s dhaba, APM drivers asked: “How was the meeting?”

Nothing great, we said.

Tauji kept quiet.

“We exited the dhaba after thanking Tauji.

“If we paid her some money, possibly she would have opened up more and spoken,” surmised Girish.

Maybe he is right.

Had there been a lady partner in our team, would these commercial sex workers have been more frank and forthcoming?

“I don’t think so. They are business-minded. Gender does not make a difference. Time is money for them. Possibly, talking to us is not lucrative," explained Girish.

Tauji hinted that they may be making at least Rs.1,000-2,000 per day.

Dodar village has a peculiar history. Residents of this village dedicate their eldest daughters to prostitution and there is no social stigma attached.

I have to content with shooting their colourful wardrobe on their clothline in their compound.

Just a kilometre away from Tauji's dhaba, says Girish: "Had we given her money, she would have opened up and spoken. That  was a mistake on our part."

I felt it is nothing to do with money. She's a karmayogi - a believer in 'action' and not talks.

Why waste time talking to a bunch of .... whatever?

Opportunity cost calculations reverberated in my psyche.

What opportunity cost? It was fourish and their trade starts not before sunset.

"Will you try them next time by acting like a client?" asks Girish.

What?

"What I mean to say is that will you go to her as a client without any prelims and instead of getting into the 'act', just keep talking to the girl (not the Madame). Pay her and get out?"

Not a bad idea.

Like what Kamalhassan did in the classic Mani Ratnam-directed Nayakan - the 1990s' Tamil superhit film and made into Hindu as Dayavan with Vinod Khanna re-enacting Kamal's role. 

(In the movie, Kamal/Vinod visits a brothel and select a young girl. But both permit her to study the entire night to enable her sit for her high school exams next day!)

***

"Commercial sex workers," I began.

"Come again!" demanded Girish.

"Commercial sex workers...." I repeated.

"Is there another group called 'Charitable sex workers'?" demand Girish.

His quirky sense of humour divert my thoughts.

"Do you think these drivers use condoms?" Girish.

I don't think so. Many drivers point blankly asked three years ago outside Chinchwad Tata Motors plant whether elephants, horses etc wear condoms in the natural act of procreation.

Also remembered a driver at a HIV/AIDS awareness campaign pavilion, tried to fixed a wooden genital with two condoms when asked to demonstrate.

Asked why, his response was: "For double security".

He has to be advised that two condoms is actually dangerous.

Sad, India is the land of Kama Sutra. Yet we are embarrassed to discuss/talk about sex generally.

Sex education is a must - not only for children in high schools. Even for adults.

The right way, I mean.