As a child, I loved Red
Cherries, Red Balloons, Red ketchup with hot samosa’s, Red Toys. Red was the
colour of my mother’s bindi. Red – the cross on doctor’s car. Red Mehendi, Red
Frocks, Red Roses, Red Candy Bars, Red Crayons. Red was beauty, was love, was
passion, was energy, was dreams...
And then I grew up... And
something changed. Goodness of Red escaped from a crack and it became the
colour of shame and the colour of pain. I was around 12 years old when I saw a
red river flowing between my thighs. I was frightened, I was confused. I
thought I had blood cancer.
I never imagined that this
blood would become my life-long adversary. That Red would become my
vengeance. My life would be full of
‘DON’Ts’. Don’t walk like that. Don’t
talk to boys. Don’t dress like that. Don’t think like that. Ssshhhh... Don’t
speak about those things. Don’t go out late. Don’t go to the kitchen. STOP..!!
Don’t Pray.
Five long days – the days of
impurity. Living life like an untouchable. [PS: We got independence in 1947 but
we still make the female in our society untouchable every 5 days a month].
Living life like I didn’t exist. Five long days that I had to bear of my own.
Uncertain, Uncomfortable, Painful, Ignored. Five long days that even God wiped
me off his list. Can you imagine the horror of a 12 year old child?
She suddenly discovers that she
has become a woman? It’s nothing beautiful? Isn’t she beautiful anymore? She
feels tainted, she feels ashamed. And I was not the only one. There were and
there are many like me who step into puberty not knowing that their bodies are
the most beautiful vessels. Vessels with the power to bring forth human-beings.
Surrounded by myth and burdened
by a taboo, they consider themselves a curse. They learn no hygiene. Rags,
Ashes, Leaves - they use any means to remove all traces of shame. The drop out
of schools. They withdraw into themselves. They wonder why their body limits
them? Who clipped their wings? For humanity to live, they bleed.
They have thousands of
questions but yet they are scared to raise a voice. Too ashamed to think. But
they need to be told that they are children like any other. Womanhood is not
witch. Puberty means life. Menstruation is not a disease. With care,
understanding and knowledge, give her the strength to untangle the chains to
break the societal taboo. Talk to her, discuss it. Tell her that she has a
magic within her. Tell her that the RED blood which comes from her will one day
help another heart, beat.
