Dim lights, shady corners, and unspoken fears—these images often come to mind when we think of a red-light area. But is that all there is to it? Beyond all these stereotyped notions, there exist stories of women who once had dreams, who never chose this life, and who still hope for a different future for their children. Yet, in a world quick to judge without understanding, we rarely pause to see the reality. But one woman did. Gitanjali Babbar, the founder of Kat-Katha, dared to break the cycle of trauma and exploitation. In this exclusive interview with Health Shots, the social activist talked about her vision behind Kat-Katha and what made her work for the women, who are not only unheard but shunned by society.
At the young age of 22, Gitanjali Babbar started helping the sex workers of Garstin Bastion Road or GB Road in Delhi, India. She stepped into an unknown place that she never knew would change the course of her life. Looking back at when Babbar was working with the National AIDS Control Organisation (NACO), she says, “I went there to think I will advocate about HIV tests and AIDS prevention like we all believe would help them. But what I realised is that there is a life beyond this.”
She went to women at GB Road with the same preconceived notions as the society but came out with a sense of belonging. With her initiative, Kat-Katha, Gitanjali has been daring every single day to see the unseen, challenge the norms and show the world that every woman deserves a chance to live. As we celebrate Women’s Day 2025, with the theme “For ALL Women and Girls: Rights. Equality. Empowerment,” Gitanjali’s work stands as a reflection of true empowerment.
For Gitanjali, it all started when she went to a brothel as a NACO officer to educate sex workers about AIDS prevention and HIV testing. But unlike everyone, she saw the actual stories, the pain and fear. “On my first day inside the brothel, I couldn’t ask a single question, my body and mind went numb. I saw girls my age, even younger, trapped in a life they never chose, while we outside remained oblivious. I went there as a change maker but their world changed me. It made me realise that I have to change my perspective towards this trade to make a bigger change. 14 years later, I am still changing every day.”
Gitanjali Babbar’s journey from being an outsider to being embraced as a daughter in the red-light district was not easy. Initially, she faced resistance because, for them, she was just another person, full of fake promises. Recalling the turning point, Gitanjali says, “On my third or fourth visit to the brothels, I went in determined to speak with the women to understand their needs. But instead, they forced me to leave. I was stunned. As I stepped out, one didi approached me and said, ‘They reacted this way because, for 20-25 years, people like you have come, asked questions, and left. They don’t believe change will come.’ But then she asked, ‘If you’re really here, can you teach me? I have always dreamt of studying.’ At that moment, I realised I couldn’t change the whole world, but I could help her fulfill her dream. And that was enough to begin.”
We often hear that we are all the puppets in God’s hand. The idea behind ‘Kat-Katha,’ founded 13 years ago, is somewhat similar. The story behind the name is simple but striking, Gitanjali says it means “the story of puppets,” representing sex workers whose choices and rights were stolen. “While many of us have the power to make everyday choices, the women in Delhi’s red-light area do not have that power or the freedom. They were trafficked at the young age of four or five and throughout their lives, they are controlled by clients, police, and the system itself. They have no rights, not even the basic right of choosing what to eat. With Kat-Katha, we want to bring to light their hidden stories and expose the harsh reality behind brothel walls.”
Gitanjali Babbar walked into the brothels as a mere stranger, but she made a family there. Talking about the moments of threats and fear, she says, “This place feels like home to me. But sometimes, I feel scared. We don’t know what kind of men are inside. My didis protect me inside, but what if someone follows me outside? Once an old man pointed at me and he was demanding. But the brothel owner said, “From today, don’t come here. The girl you are looking at, I consider her my daughter.” In a place where people fear to go, they built a shield of protection around me.”
14 years is a long journey, and when surrounded by pain, resistance, and darkness, it’s easy to fall apart. But despite all this, Gitanjali stands tall and strong for her didis. “I don’t have an exit policy. 14 years ago, I believed GB Road would change in a decade. But even now, not even 5% has changed. So, I have committed my life to this fight.
Gitanjali has faced crushing disappointment as well. When traffickers took two of her daughters to sell them, people told her to forget them. Instead, she planned a rescue. “The night before, I broke down. My partner said, ‘You can’t give up.’ Then my mentor called and said, ‘You’re not alone. We’re praying.’ That reminder gave me strength. Every time I feel like I can’t go on, someone, somewhere, reminds me—this is not about me. I am just a medium.” The thought that she is fighting for something much bigger and more important keeps her going on this journey.
Labeling women is the easiest thing for society. Since Gitanjali Babbar began working for the women of GB Road, she was called many names. But she paid no attention to them. In return, she found unwavering love and protection in a place that even the most powerful fear to enter. Calling it her safe place, Gitanjali says, “Outside GB Road, in society, I felt unsafe. People judged me, called me characterless and questioned my parents’ upbringing. For 5 to 6 years, it was tough. But then I stopped caring. “Call me characterless if you want. Call me a sex worker. I don’t mind. I know what I’m doing, my family knows and that’s all that matters. I didn’t need to prove anything to the world.”
From childhood, we are told what we can and cannot do. Even saying no feels like a rebellion.” She recalls how she was once told she couldn’t go to GB Road, yet she found strength in her defiance: “I always say that my name stands for it—Gitanjali Babbar, GB Road.”
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Gitanjali believes that honoring women for a single day while disrespecting them the rest of the year is society’s hypocrisy. For her, true empowerment means living life on one’s own terms. “Being born a woman means being chosen to fight a battle.” She sarcastically points out that times have changed and women are “allowed” to step out of their homes. “But why should anyone have the power to allow or stop us?”
Gitanjali urges women to embrace their strength and choices, reminding them that even wealth and success can feel empty without a true sense of self. “The switch is inside us. Only we can turn it on. The world is so beautiful from a woman’s eyes. It is a blessing to be born a woman and let’s just celebrate it every day and not wait for the 8th of March every year.”
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