"I am from Balungpung Garo Basti, a small village on the Assam-Arunachal Pradesh border. I dropped out of school after std IX when my father, a wood supplier, died. I tried to do the same work, but there was never enough money for my family-my mother and five sisters. I was about 11 years old when a man called Parveen Pandit came to my village from Delhi apparently looking for domestic help. He said he needed someone to look after his child because his wife was a working woman. He promised us a monthly salary of Rs 1,500, food and clothes. My mom, who didn't understand or speak Hindi, was swayed by the offer. So after paying her Rs 300, Parveen convinced her to send me with him."

New clothes every day
"Manukhi, another girl from the neighbourhood, who was older than me and spoke only Assamese, also came along because she wanted to get away from her stepmother. Manukhi and I accompanied Parveen to Delhi. We travelled by train and reached late at night. While leaving the station in an autorickshaw, some policemen stopped us. Parveen had told us that if anyone asked, we were to say that he was our brother and we were visiting him. We parroted what we'd been taught. He took us to his home in Gali No 2, Gokul Puri, where he stayed with his wife and young son. He told us we'd get our jobs in some time. For the three months we stayed in Parveen's home, he gifted us new clothes every day. I found that rather strange. While I was happy with the clothes, Manukhi and I were not allowed to leave the house. Strange men would visit the house at odd hours. I was scared, but there was nothing I could say or do."

"One day, Parveen told us to pack our stuff. He said that our jobs had been finalised and he was taking us to our new homes, but he took us to a hotel instead. Some women came there and told us to accompany them. I told them that we would go only if Parveen came along. The manager of the hotel was helpful and Manukhi and I managed to flee.
Unfortunately, while trying to reach the railway station, some policemen caught us and took us to the police station. While we were being interrogated, two women, who I later learnt were called Mira and Samsung, came there, claiming that I was Mira's daughter. Although I kept shouting, 'Do I look like her daughter?', no one paid attention to me. We tried our best to convince the police, but no one listened to us and we were forced to go with them."

A girl called Sarika
"I was taken to a place, which I later learnt was Kotha No 41 on GB Road in Delhi. The next day, some policemen came there to record our statements. And though I told them the truth, they insisted I was from Nepal and that our mothers had worked in kothas (brothels) for several years. Soon after, Mira and Samsung shaved Manukhi's head. I was so naive that after they shaved her head, I kept laughing, calling her a taklu while Manukhi cried. That day, some men took Manukhi away. I never saw her again."

"The next day, I was told my long hair would be cut. When I protested, I was beaten badly. After that, I was beaten up every day. There were about 25 girls in the kotha besides the madam and her assistant. The other girls would hold me and the assistant would beat me. I was renamed Sarika, made to wear skimpy clothes and entertain clients. When I refused repeatedly, one of them raped me."

"I was forced to sleep with men. If I refused, I was beaten up. No one could run away because the madam had posted men at the entrance who would drag us upstairs if we tried to escape. Soon, Mira sold me to another kotha. The owner, Bhaktiram Pandey, was in jail, so his wife, Babita, ran the brothel. Babita tried to sell me to some foreigners.
I don't know who they were, but they had a piece of cloth tied round their heads. I was asked to go with them, but I refused. The men left in a huff and that evening, I was beaten so badly that I thought I was going to die. When Bhaktiram came out of prison, I was made to wear a sari, sit at the bar counter and sell drinks."

Attempt to kill a cop
"After a year-and-a-half, a middleman came with another man to the drinks counter. I don't know why, but I felt I could trust the stranger. He turned out to be a police constable from Haryana. I told him my story and asked for help. I also told him that there were lots of young girls like me. After he left, the police raided the place and we were taken to the Hari Nagar police station. That's where I met Roma Debabrata, president of Stop Trafficking and Oppression of Children, an NGO. When she told us that we would be rescued, I didn't believe her. I had learned not to trust anyone, especially the police. Some other brothels were also raided and more girls were brought in."

"While we were being questioned, one policeman kept abusing me. He took me aside and tried to molest me. I was so furious that I wanted to kill him. I was arrested for trying to kill a policeman on duty and incarcerated in Tihar Jail. I was there for four years. It may sound strange, but I was happy at Tihar Jail; there was no abuse there. Life followed a routine and the other inmates were very helpful. They told me to be brave and not to give up hope."

Learning to love, from scratch
"On April 28, 2004, I was released from jail and taken to a home, Nirmal Chhaya. The people there were very sweet. Then, one day Roma ma'am came to visit me. She said I should go with Hasina Kharbhih, vice-chairperson of Meghalaya State Commission for Women and founder of Impulse NGO Network, who had accompanied her. I was very scared, thinking this was another plan to sell me off. But Hasina ma'am, who I now call amma, talked to me at length and we were taken to the airport with a police escort. Hasina and her team took me to my home at Bhalungpung, but I couldn't stay there because the villagers thought I had a bad reputation. I stayed at St Mary's Home, where I got vocational training in embroidery and stitching. Since then, I've worked with Impulse NGO Network, helping women like me."

"Last year I got married to a lovely man from Tripura. I feel loved and secure today and am not angry anymore. When I was at the kotha, there were times when I thought about killing myself, but not anymore. I don't feel violent either. At times I do feel sad but I'm happy that I'm finally able to live a life of my choice."