The lockdowns were unexpectedly long and company for most was scarce. This period of successive lockdowns was a living nightmare for every single extrovert.
But even for the other half, this welcome break eventually became a rather unwelcome one. This could be chalked down to the human brain’s archaic need for interaction. Thus began the race to fill this market gap of loneliness…
Advertisements for chatting and video calling apps started popping up in every nook and cranny of the Internet. And so, after months of force-feeding and a sleepless night of boredom, I finally decided to download one of these apps. Call it a momentary lapse of judgment, if you will.
I filled in all the information, and like every responsible netizen, unquestioningly agreed to all the terms and conditions. With one look at the app’s interface, I realized that I had signed away my life rights to the Chinese government. The whole affair seemed very sordid to me. Now as much as I wanted to delete the app instantly, I fell prey to my middle-class mannerisms and decided to utilize the two complimentary calls.
What Was My First Call Like?
My first call was with a considerably older woman who, I could tell from the state of her home (which was visible in the background), was teetering on the poverty line. Her face was indifferent and expressionless.
She looked at me as if I was faceless, and asked whether I wanted to “see something?” This led me to ask the very obvious question: “See what?” “Anything,” she replied. Before I could process her response, the timer had run out and the call got cut. Intrigued but confused, I decided to explore the app a little further.
The more profiles I looked at, the more red flags got raised, and the more I started questioning this app’s raison d’etre (reason for existence). After forming what I thought was a fair assumption, I decided to use my last call to fact-check my discoveries.
A short conversation later (with another, this time a somewhat younger woman), what I previously thought were the senile ramblings of an idle mind, got confirmed. The purpose of this app was certainly not companionship.
I couldn’t possibly believe that an app, so risqué, was accessible so easily. What was even more astonishing about the app was its demography, given our country’s opinion on the topic of sex: it doesn’t happen, and it doesn’t exist.
Almost all the user profiles present on the app belonged to Indian women—mostly housewives, most of whom seemed to belong to the lower, financial segment of society.
One such woman was Jyoti. I had interviewed several candidates before Jyoti. While there were some mildly amusing accounts, most of them had such mundane similarities, that the only insightful and interesting quality about them was their contribution to the statistics.
However Jyoti was different, she sounded considerably more polished when compared to her peers. The condition of her house in the background, while not exquisite, was still better than the rest, she could afford to paint her walls. I found Jyoti’s case to be rather peculiar. I think you might as well.
I Spoke To A Woman Named Jyoti
Born to a fisherman in West Bengal, Jyoti was adamant to elevate her standard of living. The want for a better life became more than a wishful thought when she once accidentally witnessed her father groveling for money from her uncle, during one of the weeks when the sea had been unkind to them.
The only visible way out of her situation was by educating herself. She claims that she was the brightest in her class of ten students, most of whom would make their way to school screaming and clawing as their parents dragged them in every morning.
“I thought I was the smartest girl, in the entire world,” Jyoti recalled gleefully. She preferred studying, while her younger sister would go hopscotching around their neighbourhood. Jyoti managed to get a teaching degree and landed a job as a teacher at a primary school.
She ended up marrying the receptionist who, as she recalls, greeted her with a fatally charming smile on her very first day. When the pandemic struck, both Jyoti and her husband lost their jobs. She had no source of income and four mouths to feed.
It was during this time of uncertainty that Jyoti decided to take her sister (who was faring oddly well during such a tough time) up, on the alternative source of income she had been raving about. A couple of months back, Jyoti was nothing but skeptical when her sister very animatedly told her that she had earned ₹5,000 just by talking to men on video calls.
What, back then, sounded like a scam to her, was now her wooden door in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. She reached out to her sister, who rather happily downloaded the app on her phone and then introduced her to an “agent”, who helped her with the registration process.
How Did Jyoti’s First Foray Go?
After the first couple of interactions with said customers, Jyoti realised that there was a lot more going on in this app than her agent had initially told her. She was specifically scandalized by her fourth caller’s phallic display; it was enough to conclude day one for her.
Later when she brought this incident up, her sister didn’t remotely seem fazed by the story. Instead, she told Jyoti to brush it off—it was all “a part of the job”.
Mortified, Jyoti tried talking sense into her sister, reminding her that she was a married woman. Her sister’s response was to ask Jyoti whether she had enough money to afford her morals. While not wanting to sacrifice her only potential source of income, Jyoti was extremely hesitant to be burlesque. After all, it went against all the values inculcated into her ever since she was a child. Almost all callers were men, and, none of them were remotely interested in the purpose that the app advertised itself as—a place to make friends. Sadly, the only way to earn money on this app was either through the gifts awarded to her by the callers, or by engaging the callers for at least a minute.
Initially, Jyoti tried to engage people in conversations, but as soon as the timer would start nearing a minute, the callers would realise what she was trying to do and hang up on her.
“This became increasingly frustrating for me,” Jyoti recalled. She remembers having several arguments with her sister. In the course of this, she even threatened to air out her dirty laundry in front of her husband. Jyoti was ever the more surprised when she realised that her threat had little to no effect on her sister.
The sister, who would usually cower at the thought of her husband finding out that she smoked, seemed to have now gotten a new lease on life. Hoping the pandemic would be over soon, Jyoti and her husband decided to dip into what little savings they had. For the first two months, the going was rather smooth.
But fortune rarely favours the unfortunate. The second wave swept both Jyoti and her husband along with it. With both the breadwinners out of commission, desperation was running at an all-time high in their household.
Jyoti remembers sitting on her cot one day with a throbbing headache, trying to gulp a mixture of salt, water, and a few bits of chapati. She had never felt more desperate. “I had worked hard for the life that I had, I felt cheated,” said Jyoti, her face drenched with indignation.
“As much I didn’t want to, I knew there was no way out but one,” she said as her tone shifted to a very matter-of-fact demeanor.
How Does She Feel About It Now?
“I was so nervous. I thought I would puke,” she chuckled as she recalled her first monetarily beneficial interaction. “Now, I barely pay attention. A lot of times, I’m doing something else along with it.”
“Do you plan on stopping once the pandemic is over?” I asked her.
“No, I don’t see the point of abandoning a major source of income,” she replied.
“What if your husband finds out?” I asked.
“Well, then he can return the motorcycle I paid for if he wants to stop me,” she responded with impressive bluntness.
As enlightening as my conversation with Jyoti was, I was still in the dark about one particular question – Were the creators of this app innocent? Were they not aware of their platform’s true utility? I was trying to give them the benefit of doubt, even though I doubt the rampant nudity on the app could have, somehow, flown under their radar.
Which App Is This?
As expected, my ad recommendations became very singular, once I started my research for this article. I’m guessing that’s because I came across as an already eager consumer. Furthermore, I tried to find some more information on this app—news reports, articles, anything—but to no avail.
It’s baffling, that despite having over 100 million downloads on Google Play Store alone, this app has managed to not raise any eyebrows.
While amazed, I was having a hard time deciding how I felt about Jyoti’s story:
On one hand, this story depicts the plight of an underpaid Indian teacher who had to forcibly expand the horizons of her morality just to stay afloat. On the other hand, this story is a tale of a woman who was thrown helplessly into the deepest depths of desperation, but came out victorious and empowered.
I hope you understand now what I meant when I first said “peculiar”. Moving on, what app is this? You might have noticed that throughout the article, I have avoided using the name of the app. I would have, had it not been for my encounter with Jyoti or several other women like her, who are just trying to get by. I don’t think it would be right for me to take away their newfound financial and individual freedom from them.
So yes, the name of this app remains a secret that over 100 million people collectively share, and now, so do I.