They call them pr0stitutes’ children. I call them mine.

In the red-light districts, childhood doesn’t look like crayons and lullabies. It looks like shadows. Like shame that doesn’t belong to them but still follows them everywhere.

These children are born into a world where love is sold, dignity is stolen, and dreams are laughed at. Before they even learn how to write their name, they learn how to hide their tears.

“One of my girls once asked me, ‘Ma, am I dirty too like they say?’ I couldn’t breathe. I just held her and cried.” – Lalitha

These are not just children. These are survivors of silence. Their mothers, often helpless, fight their own battles. But who listens to the child locked behind the curtain? Who sees the boy sitting outside the room, waiting for another man to leave before he can go in and sleep?

“I’ve seen babies sleeping beside broken bottles… girls taught how to smile for strangers before they learn how to spell… boys numbing themselves because they don’t know what innocence feels like.”

But Lalitha a woman with no cape, no riches, and no spotlight became the miracle they were waiting for.

She took them in, one by one. Fed them. Held them. Fought for them.

Not just with money, but with a mother’s fire. With the stubborn belief that they were not their past.

That they were worthy of respect, education, a future.

“I tell them every night—‘You are not where you came from. You are where you’re going. And I will walk every step with you.’” 

Today, thanks to her, some of these children are in school, learning how to read and write their own stories. Some are in college. Some are still healing but they’re healing.

But now, her shelter is breaking down.

Too many little ones. Not enough space. Broken beds. Thin walls that let the rains in and the cold stay. Not enough good food to sustain them… 

“Sometimes I sit in the corner at night and cry… not because I’m tired, but because I’m scared. What if I can’t protect them anymore?”

She’s never asked for much. But today, she’s asking.

Not for herself. But for these children who have already seen more darkness than most of us ever will.

She needs help to build a better space. A space with enough beds. A safe washroom. A classroom.A home where they can feel like children and not mistakes.

“They didn’t choose this life. But I chose them. I just need the world to choose them too.” 

Your donation today isn’t just bricks and cement.It’s a shield, a protection, a second chance. A future.

Let’s not turn away from them like the world always has.

Let’s help Lalitha keep the light burning.