Aruna

Sachin disappeared into the darkness before me like a train into the mouth of a tunnel. From my place in the sunlight, I peered into the dim hallway, trying to make sense of the surroundings. A woman perched on a stool in a doorway, her silhouette illuminated by the lighted room behind her. Somewhere far above us, a dog began to bark. One woman smiled at us as she peered out from her room; another turned her face and melted into the shadows. It was three o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon. We were walking into a brothel.

The Oasis staff at the Aruna project work on Grant Road, one of Mumbai’s red light areas. “Aruna” is Hindi for “bright morning sun,” and the project is truly a bright presence in a very dark place. The drop-in center provides outreach to women and men in the area by offering counseling, events, connections to medical care, and assistance to those who want to leave the trade. They run programs for children of prostitutes and make referrals to International Justice Mission when they have information about minors forced into sex work. As part of the ministry, the staff daily go out onto the streets and into the brothels to pursue relationships with the women and invite them to Aruna’s programs. And in the midst of these places, they pray

As we climbed the dim, creaking staircase, I looked nervously around. What if the pimp sees us? Do we have to have his permission to come here? It turns out the Aruna staff have befriended many of the pimps and the madams as well, even some regular customers. Their compassion and love make no distinctions; all are in need of love, hope, and deliverance. My own ability to love seems withered and frail in comparison.

We stopped at each doorway, chatting with anyone who would take the time. I introduced myself and exhausted my limited Hindi time and time again. As I smiled and laughed and made small talk, my mind struggled to comprehend the abuse that takes place within those very walls. To think that many women were tricked into the lifestyle or sold by someone they trusted, to think vast profit was made by such pain…I wasn’t sure I could do this--it was too hard. Suddenly, in that dim hallway, I realized that I was witnessing the miraculous. As water dripped from the ceiling and pooled on the swollen floor, words of compassion flowed from the lips of the Aruna staff. Between the lines of sodden laundry, the very air around us seemed to sparkle, thick with love.

So at the end of the afternoon I left Aruna not in despair, but with hope. Women wearing heavy make-up lined the streets and watched us as we walked to the train station. The love I had witnessed must have been infectious; I was amazed at the compassion welling up inside of me. I know that God is at work in this very place. It is not too dark or too broken for him. He has not abandoned the men, women, and children on Mumbai’s red light areas. And I have been humbled by this glimpse of His love.