Kamla: "Often when I am with a customer, I hold my legs straight and he
doesn't even enter me. After all, my body is my own."
Young street prostitute crying in the Olympia Café.
I would hear voices from behind the curtains; once a customer saying,
"My glasses, my glasses, where are my glasses?" and a thirteen-
year-old prostitute saying "Come on now, behave, be proper."
Munni is fifteen years old. "I was begging in front of the Taj Mahal Hotel, when
a foreigner bought me a red skirt, a shirt ..The name tattooed
on my arm is the only thing I can bring in death
Putla on her bed with a crushed rose.
“Like most countries, India has fancy brothels and expensive call girls. But the pictures in this book were taken on a street in Bombay where the less expensive prostitutes live and work, an area famous for the cage-like houses in which some of the women live. These photographs were taken between October 1978 and January 1979. During that time I got to know and enter the world of some of the women on Falkland Road. They were very special women. This book is for them—with deep thanks to my friend Saroja.” -Mary Ellen Mark
Read more about this photo essay here: Mary Ellen Mark’s Website