I knew all about birds and bees from age eight. I looked forward to menstruating. For, that was the milestone of adulthood, and which child does not want to be an adult.
In our village I would see my elder cousins, all big and grown up, sitting separate in a corner or in the back porch of our house, for three days as if it was a privilege to put out of your own home. They were fed and handed out whatever they required from the house on the sole condition that some water was sprinkled on those objects before they were taken in again. On the third day, they would bathe, enter the house in wet clothes, and sprinkle their bedding and their own belongings with blessed water from the temple. As a child I found this fascinating.
In a few years I reached that much awaited milestone when I was 12. It wasn’t any tumultuous event no pots rolled or flowers bloomed, and no tears flowed either as depicted in the movies. There was a stain and some pain down under but nothing else. My mother told a few people as she would have if I would have won an award. I was now in the adult league.
But things were not as privileged as I thought. Menstruation brings in adulthood for female bodies and with it a whole lot of problems too. There were pujas and other religious functions that I had to stay away from. That was an irritation. But more than that for two days every month I would be laid down with immense pain and even bouts of throwing up; menstruation was excruciating pain. It was a nuisance. The only saving grace was it was a sign of healthy femininity, and of course there was no choice.
The worst were temple visits. It was so hard to plan any trip in advance because irregular periods meant that they could start at any time. There was a temple trip that I had to sit in the hotel while everyone else was on the path of divinity. There was an occasion when I started menstruating when I was inside a temple. Of course I didn’t say anything to anyone about that trickle that luckily didn’t break into a flow.
Feminism grew with me maybe even before menstruation. I used to be very alert to any privileges offered to my brother just because he was a boy and would make sure that I had them too. And then I read Advaita, about how everything was one – stone, tree animal or man. So why not menstruating women? I was very clear that menstruation was not impure or a reason for being sidelined.
Sabarimala for me, as early as I heard of it, was not an attraction. My Gods, male and female, were powerful; they offered me protection and solace. And here was a God that was being protected from menstruating women. I was not interested, but I was piqued, of course. It bothered me that in this democratic country, there were places that women could not enter. Sabarimala was of course the abode of patriarchy. All those Ayyappans who would don black and make so much noise of worship were a sign of intimidation and a hassle. Of course, I still wonder if Naishtika Brahmacharyam is not at risk with a 50-year-old. Isn’t sexuality different from menstruation?
I am a stout Hindu, and proud to be one too. So I don’t take criticism about my belief very easily. But then menstruation is not only a Hindu fear — I understand that women from other religions are prevented from worshipping too.
So why, why is Sabarimala Ayyappan intolerant of menstruation? They tell me of magnetic waves of menstruating women that clash with magnetic waves of puja and the ‘deity’. What about the days when women don’t menstruate?
Then there is the 41-day fast. Does menstruation make a fast impossible? Menstruation is not an illness. Women can fast during those days too.
So of course the issue is patriarchy and the privilege of the male sex. It hurts me that women are the torchbearers of this patriarchy. It hurts me that a boy on the national TV has succeeded in instigating violence of a kind not seen before in this state. And for what, celibacy?
So where does secularism come into this issue? Sabarimala was our flag of secularism. Obviously that’s just a male word.
Well in the days of a flagrant #MeToo where women’s protests are being heard throughout the country, in Kerala we have a menstrual hartal that wants to sideline women to the back porch of the house, unheard and unseen.
(This is a letter to editor from Olari, Thrissur)
