First Period Memoir: War In Spring

[inlinetweet prefix=”” tweeter=”” suffix=””]My panties are all bruised and beaten up[/inlinetweet]

“There is blood all over my panties, Ma!”

I almost whispered yet screamed to my mother

But her reassuring smile calmed the panic in me.

I remember using an old used cloth

That was torn from an old kurta that I used to wear

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There was a war going on and my armor was a piece of

Cloth.

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I remember walking up the stairs to meet my friend

And telling her excitedly that I could now bleed,

that all women bleed, and that I’ve made it.

I remember my friend telling me that she didn’t

That maybe something was wrong with me

I was alone in this battle

And had to pick sides.

I remember crying because it was uncomfortable

I couldn’t run

I couldn’t play cricket.

I felt angry. I felt tricked.

It felt unfair.

[inlinetweet prefix=”” tweeter=”” suffix=””]I remember asking my Ma why it was important for me to suffer[/inlinetweet]

Maybe bleeding was a metaphor for suffering?

But why?Because I ate too many chocolates?

I remember it lasting for a few days

I’d often rush to the bathroom to check if my PJs were ruined

always feeling anxious.

I remember

It was the 15^th of August

And I was still wearing my school uniform

There was this sweet wetness

from the first rains everywhere.

I remember almost scratching my labia out

Because I thought that I had cut myself open

And there was no way I could stop it or heal it

For it bled.

But mostly I remember that there was not much of a fuss

I wasn’t considered to be unholy

No one tried to lock me up.

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I was ready, they said.

[/inlinetweet]“For what?” I remember asking

To welcome the Spring, ofcourse.

Somehow I remember every detail.

The faint curve of my mother’s lips

The color of that cloth

The look on my friend’s face

The discomfort when my thighs rubbed and itched while I ran

Dampening my mother’s saree with my tears

The rain on ‘Independence’ Day that made me happy

The tissues scratching

Every detail etched in my memory, moving

like a slideshow of photographs on a big CinemaScope.

I now understand that I was always ready for the Springtime

[inlinetweet prefix=”” tweeter=”” suffix=””]I am my own Spring[/inlinetweet]

Periods are not any confirmation or a validation for it

Perhaps they are a bit of consolation.

The pain will make me strong someday.

And the bleeding will make sense.

I got it the easier way I think. Some didn’t. Some are still trying

to understand why it is important.

Some are still exploring.

Some are lost.

Some are finding.

But there is no hidden meaning, a metaphor or a secret revelation to this.

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Look, it bleeds.

It kind of stinks.

And then it goes away.

The war, however,

Is still on.

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Poet: Amogha Dalvi

Amogha, studied Liberal Arts from Soka University of America . She strongly believes in human rights and hope to be a fierce catalyst in changing mindsets regarding human health all over the world.  She believe in the power of writing, especially poetry.

Artist: Stuti Mazumdar

Stuti is an animator and artist from MIT, Pune.
You can she her lovely work here.

Editor: Divya Rosaline

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