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by Soumyava Goswami
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It was June 2020. The nationwide lockdown in India had not fully lifted—some states had relaxed restrictions, but strict guidelines still remained. With factories shut for months, the economic downturn had reached a breaking point. Unemployment was rampant, and a sense of despair loomed large.
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During this time, a voluntary NGO went door-to-door seeking help for the destitute. People contributed however they could. It was a moment for humanity to prove that compassion hadn’t perished. The NGO eventually reached Sonagachi—the city’s infamous red-light district. A few women were standing on the street, decked up and swaying confidently.
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An older man in the group, Alokranjan Mukherjee, muttered, “Let’s leave. This is a filthy place. Just stepping in will defile us.”
A younger member named Kunal countered, “We’ve come this far—we’ll ask them too.”
Alok Babu huffed, “They’ll never give. Worse, they’ll rob us of what little we have. You don’t know the kind of people they are.”
Another volunteer, Nil, asked slyly, “How do you know so much about them? You’ve been here before?”
Tension escalated, and Alok Babu lost his temper. Kunal intervened, calming everyone down, and led the group into a large house. He invited all the women to gather in one place and explained the purpose of their visit.
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One woman named Chameli scoffed, “We’ve lost our income too. Customers are afraid of COVID. How are we supposed to donate anything now?”
Before she could continue, another woman, Rita, cut in, “Shut up. They’re doing a good deed. We should try to do something too.” She pulled out a crisp ₹500 note and said, “Here, take this. This isn’t money earned from selling my body—it’s not sinful income. It’s government relief that I just withdrew from the bank.”
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Kunal, visibly moved, said, “You may sell your body, but not your conscience. So many so-called respectable people—politicians, intellectuals, even leaders—sell their morals for money and power, causing real damage to the country. You are far nobler than them. Selling your body is far better than selling your conscience. So even if it were earned that way, I would accept it. People may call this place impure, but this money is clean. After all, money has no caste, no religion.”
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His words brought tears to many eyes. Kunal extended his hands and said gently, “Whatever you can spare, please give.”
Moved, the women handed over whatever little they had.
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At the end of the day, it was revealed that the highest donations came from the women whose incomes had been completely halted. Alok Babu, humbled, confessed, “From today, I’ll never judge anyone by their work. We don’t know the battles people fight or what led them to their path.”
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Nil, in a cheeky gesture, hugged Alok Babu and kissed him on the cheek—promptly enraging him. Everyone burst into laughter.
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