She grew up instinctively knowing that home was not a safe place. It was a place she stayed as a necessity. It was a place to do chores, to eat and to sleep.

It was a place she was ignored on a good day, verbally abused on a regular day and got slapped, kicked and boxed on a bad day. She thought every child grew up having their milk teeth forcefully removed by their loved ones. Home was not a place of jokes or laughter, it was not a place to play or bring friends, it was not a place of leisure; it was a silent and tense place.

Home was a place she lived on a schedule drawn by one and enforced by another. As a child she complied strictly, naturally, to save her skin but getting older to save both her and someone else. There was no room for mistakes or carelessness at home.

Home was a place she woke at dawn, slept way beyond midnight and in between she kept busy or else there won’t be food.

Home was a place, she allowed groping hands touch her in the secret places, tear into her tender body and in the morning pretend nothing happened at night. Any attempt to resist or complain earned days and days of torture. She thought every little girl passed through that, that it must be part of growing up.

The relief of getting out of her home, the joy of walking the streets with the tray of whatever fruit was in season. It was her place of freedom, her place of leisure. The weight of her wares was balanced by the lightness of her heart. She knew every nook and cranny. On the streets she could raise her voice; she could be saucy and rude. She could give as well as she gets.

She is wiser beyond her age on the street; she knows all the tricks of her trade. She makes herself money and still returns accurate income home. On a lucky day she can even dump her wares, change into her street cloths and have herself a good time. If someone was willing to pay to touch her in the secret places she figured it made more economic sense. And if he was foolish enough to leave his money lying around that meant more days of leisure on the streets for her.

Fed up of home finally, she decides to make a home of the only place she feels at home. Equipped only with nature’s endowment, she uses what she has to get what she needs.From accepting offers from men she makes an offering of herself to men but only to the highest bidder. Not content with petty thefts she heads a machine-gun totting gang.

Then one day the street “child” came home to visit. She leaves behind distrought families and destroyed homes. She is only giving back what she was given.

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