Jawed Khurshid

The red light district of Mumbai seems to have a pleasant makeover: The sex workers adorning pious look, sans their latkas andjhatkas, doing aartis of their most affable deity, Siddhivinayak Morya, the elephant headed god that bring prosperity and peace to the city.

The fragrance of incense sticks and camphor used in aartis fills the nostrils and conceals every single lascivious act of theirs. The change, though transient, has a lasting impact on mind.

As Rekha, a prostitute, who came from the Himalayan state, Nepal, devoutly sings paeans to the god, in this underbelly of Mumbai, notorious for their flesh trade and trademark potbellied pimps, seems to have immersed in celestial grace.  ‘I’m doing this for the last four years,’ she said with beaming face – a tell tale sign of her spiritual satisfaction.

Asha’s eyes twinkled as she narrated about the vrat (fast) she keeps every year during Ganapati. ‘I’m from a non-descript town ofUttar Pradesh, landed here by a cruel machination of fate,’ said the gal with remorse reflecting through her eyes. ‘I seek salvation from this hell-hole and confident that Ganapati Bappa would help bail me out from this,’ she said.

The area which is swarmed by pros, pimps and their clients all assembles to croon bhakti songs during Ganapati festival, totally immersed in mysticism, provides a pleasant picture that make us rethink about the sleaze we call Kamathipura.