Kamla behind Curtains with a Customer, Falkland Road, Bombay, India, 1978
(catalog number 300D-001-013)

MY FIRST trip to India, in 1968, changed my life. I was overwhelmed. While I was in Bombay, someone took me to Falkland Road, the area where the least expensive prostitutes lived and worked. The houses they lived in were called cages because of the bars on the front doors. I swore that one day I would return and photograph Falkland Road. Over the next ten years, I visited Bombay several times but never had the opportunity to photograph Falkland Road.

In October of 1978, I finally convinced Rolf Gillhausen and Max Scheler at Stern magazine to give me the assignment. The magazine insisted that I work in color. Most of my work is in black-and-white, but working in color on this project was a great learning experience. Color was an important part of how these women decorated themselves.

During those years, one could work on a magazine assignment for long periods of time, so I spent three months on Falkland Road not only working on a magazine assignment but also making a book.

During the first few weeks, I just walked up and down the street and shot pictures. Rajesh Joshi, a young Indian cameraman, worked as my translator and assistant. In the beginning, the women threw garbage at me. Someone stole my address book from my back pocket, and abuses in a language that I didn't understand were constantly screamed in my direction.

I persevered, and in time people got used to me walking up and down the street. This was only the first hurdle. I knew that I had to photograph the life inside the brothels. Eventually, one night, I ventured inside one of them. Each building on Falkland Road consisted of three floors with several rooms on each floor. Each room existed as its own brothel with its own madam. Between four and twelve girls worked in each brothel. The women were shocked to see me. There were abuses and shoes hurled in my direction. I thought I had ruined my chances to photograph, but the next day I returned, and after a while the women accepted me.

Some days later, my big breakthrough came when Saroja invited me into her brothel room for tea. Saroja was a respected madam with several girls of her own. When the other madams saw that Saroja had accepted me, they too accepted me.

I would spend hours in Saroja's brothel room. She would cook, children and dogs would run in and out of the room-and business would go on as usual. Customers would come and go. In time, the regular customers got to know me.

The sex took place behind a brightly colored curtain that surrounded the bed. A man would come in, a deal would be made with Saroja, then the girl and the customer would enter the bed and pull the curtains.

Rajesh would translate the voices from behind the curtains. Once a customer said, "My glasses, my glasses, where are my glasses?" and a 13-year-old prostitute replied, "Come on now, behave--be proper."

This is a photograph of Kamla, Saroja's favorite girl, with a customer. She was laughing and playing, and he just happened to put his hand on her face at the right moment.

Saroja threw me a party when my three months on Falkland Road were over. She cooked a chicken biryani, which was delicious. We all hugged and cried. During the party, customers came and went and business went on. When one of the regular customers witnessed our tears, he said, "Why are you crying? You should go back to New York, find some nice girls, bring them here, and open your own brothel near Saroja on Falkland Road."