Just the other day I shared a very powerful poem ‘Half World’ by a Telugu poet, and here I am today, sharing yet another AMAZING piece by a Tamil writer K. Geeta. Again I had to find the translation in English to read it, but here it goes.
The Time I’m My Period. (I am not sure with the title, my translation version says so.)
When the whole body is frozen into an abscess
When a private mount explodes silently
I make efforts vain to catch the pain in my grip
All of a sudden it gives a jolt
I in myself, solid becoming liquid
Then become a solid again
And then shattered to pieces.
Every month, having no other go
I transform myself into pain
Dead
Unable to plaster the wound that would’nt surface
Unable to grind the ribs into powder
Even unable to draw myself into a bundle of cosy sleep
Embracing the thirty-six hours of turbulence
Unable to remain a forced untouchable
Walking forward a few paces in civilisation
Becoming gasping leaps and sprints
Desiring to flatten the spine on the anvil
Toying with the idea
To bundle this bother with chains of iron
Again and again, once in every thirty days
Taking rebirths one after another
The period when crushed in gut-twisting agony
This period …
The problem does not lie only when people shy away with the topic, but even today their are many myths and beliefs associated with it. Not going into the details much here, I’d safely say that those beliefs should not be thrown on women, it’s on them if they believe in it or not.
Even today we have people who shy away with the topic of menstruation, and it is indeed a powerful poetry that I strongly stand by. Some people tend to take it so casually, never understanding the amount of pain that a woman’s body goes through and those hormonal changes which she is herself unaware of, in those days, every single month, almost her entire life.
Moushmi Radhanpara 
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