By Latika Ojha
I remember the day my mother escaped,
Secretly from the backyard gate.
Tucked away with skill and deft,
She crept back in with a stealthy step.
My innocent eyes were quick to spot,
Demanding an answer to what she'd got.
With a furtive look she'd glance around
And shut me up with a "No more sound!"
"Shhhh!" she said, mysteriously,
And sealed my mouth imperiously.
And one day in a pool of blood,
Surrounded by a shameful flood.
I found my skirt deeply stained,
My head and tummy ached, pained!
I felt an animal in the zoo,
With stares that hit me black and blue.
Soon the issue was taken to court,
The Head sent me home with an escort.
There I declared I suffered from piles,
And was shocked to see my mother in smiles.
A mother, how so calm could be
When her child was sick so seriously?
And then the mystery was revealed
That I'd encountered the battlefield
Of womanhood, which behoved me shy,
To carry my tampons on the sly.
I grew up carrying the shame and guilt,
The foundation on which womanhood was built.
Until I had my baby first
When I told them in a fitful burst:
"That I am proud I bleed and stain,
For that's the blood that runs the vein
Of my baby that prattles, babbles and fills
My heart and home with thunderous thrills.
Red speaks passion; Red speaks love;
The same is the hue of the faithful blood
That keeps the promise of its visit
Nothing hidden. All explicit!
I watch my daughter boldly buy
Napkins with her head held high!
She bleeds, yet plays with her brother and me;
The cramps call for her father to free
Her of the lessons which are adjourned
Until she feels she's ready to learn.
A relief, a calm, I then experience
When I notice a marked difference
Between what went with mother and me
A taboo no longer, as I can see.
Each mother, father, and brother be bold
To rid the norms of the nonsensical old.
Just as blood helps a man survive,
Menstruation keeps mankind alive!