wutheringheights

A couple of years ago while walking through the busy M G Road in Ernakulam, my friend and I ran into two sex workers. We were drunk, heavily. Srikanth was then an active member of a group which organised seminars for sex workers all over Kerala. According to him, they (sex workers) are doing a great service to society. And in most cases, they act as a grievance cell for men who are in search of a close heart -- a cot where they can share ‘everything’, confess everything. As we slowed down, a welcome gesture came from one of the ladies... The usual communication test began under the shades of neon. Srikanth was not interested in the ‘eye-gesture’ business. He looked sad and apologetic. “S, I want to touch her feet, as a token of respect. Can you ask them?”, he requested. The two ladies knew we would approach them. “Hundred”, the elder one made a sensible move. Fine, but how would I convince them about my friend’s unusual intention? I looked at the younger one, who looked new to