A sex worker's story

"She is not the crying kind," says J Devika of Nalini Jameela, 55, whose The Autobiography of a Sex Worker she has translated into English. Jameela is anything but. It's a quality of mind, a kind of desperate courage, that screams out of every page of of the book which first came out in 2005, and created a storm. Middle-class conservatives found it abhorrent; even feminists and reformists quarrelled with the way Jameela sought to dignify sex work as ordinary labour. To say Jameela is a sex worker is to limit her. She is the convenor of the Kerala Sex Workers' Forum, a documentary filmmaker, a mother and grandmother; at some point in her chequered life she was also a businesswoman, an arrack vendor and a beggar.

She speaks about how the book has changed her life, through Devika, who struggled manfully to translate her fast and metaphoric Malayalam into English.

Has the book changed your life, and that of other sex workers?
Yes, it has changed lives in important ways. It has allowed sex workers to bring out who they are, what they need, what can be done for them. In concrete terms, there's now a clear difference in the way the police, especially, deal with us. There was time when they referred to sex workers as eddi-podi [a disrespectful way of addressing women in Malayalam]. This is now on the decline. Especially if you walk into a police station and introduce yourself as a sex worker belonging to a certain organisation, who knows Nalini Jameela, the reaction is immediate "" and they'll say ma'am, why don't you sit, ma'am.

What was the reaction to your book?
It's been dramatic, especially that of women. It's not as if positive reactions aren't coming. But they're coming like toothpaste coming out of a tube that's empty and you're pressing and pressing... brought out with such great effort that it doesn't seem worth much. I haven't found anyone who's genuinely super-sensitive.

There was once this man who told me, okay it's good that you're writing, your book is good... but my problem is, why are you claiming to be a writer?

But in a sense he's right. This is a spoken book, rather than a written one...
Yes it is a spoken book, but is there a rule that says that spoken books should not be books?

You've talked about a sequel to this book. Are you working on it?
I'll definitely write a sequel but what will people say, I have written it or spoken it? I think I'll have to define myself as the writer who speaks.

Seriously, I'm working towards a sequel, but it won't be an autobiography, more like experiences.

You've made significant revisions to the original Njan Laingikatozhilaal. Why did you feel the need to revise?
My only exposure to "literature" was Soviet Land which I read at the age of seven. But later, I fell into reading frivolous stuff like Manorama and Mangalam. That's what's behind my urge to tell a story; it didn't come from some high-flying place. When I was doing the first version, Gopinath, my scribe, told me that I must have the "sex worker's manifesto" at the end to get recognition for the book. I didn't want it. After all, I was telling the story, it was my story. But Gopinath objected, said people would say it's all fiction or somebody had helped me write it. So, after the book came out, I asked people whether it was necessary and a lot of my friends told that me I could well remove it.

Have you made any documentaries beyond the three you mention in the book?
No I haven't, but I'd definitely like to make a film on the experiences of sex workers, that will also advise the new generation that is going astray and falling into sex rackets.

Do you still work as a sex worker, or do you make enough from the royalties not to need to do that any more?
I'm still a sex worker. The money from the book has given me a certain stability, but that's all. (Laughs) I don't think I'm ever going to give it up, especially since there's more money for me in this now.