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Interested in blogging for timesofindia. We will be happy to have you on board as a blogger, if you have the knack for writing. Just drop in a mail at toiblogs timesinternet. When dusk settles and the streetlights begin to glow, Munshigunge changes its character. Men, mostly taxi drivers, park their vehicles by the road.
Then, depending on their mood and preferences, they disappear into the pigeon-hole sized rooms with their squeeze for the night. The going rates now is Rs per shot. Some just come, haggle over prices, force themselves on to the girls and then leave without paying the fixed amount. The girls are left behind to deal with a sinking feeling of depression and a gnawing sense of emptiness.
With each passing day, they realise how crippled their lives have become and how their fate has been helplessly trapped between their legs! Yet, love happens. Or so they say. In privacy, some of the greatest cynics there still hope that men in shining armour will come, if not on a horseback but at least on a cycle, to rescue them.
At night when they hit the bed, their dreams comprise montage shots of life in wedded bliss and happiness in domesticity. Love is an eternal quest in the red light areas. A mirage of sorts that everyone is chasing. An illusion that curiously gives hope and a sense of meaning for those being forced to sell their all for a price.