Period Leave

Morning Absence

Mumbai ki subah hamesha thodi impatient hoti hai. Local train ka screech, road pe rickshaw ka horn, ande-pav ki smell, aur hawa mein chipchipa sa humidity—jaise city bhi bina permission ke tumhari skin se chipak jaati ho.

Us din meri body ne bhi mujhe bina permission ke ek announcement de diya tha.

Main girls’ washroom ke last stall mein khadi thi, dono haath peth pe rakhe hue, aur saans ko normal dikhane ki acting kar rahi thi. Period ka first day. Hamesha ka same insult, but har baar naya experience jaise. Lower back mein kheench, thighs mein dull ache, aur dimag mein ek heavy fog. White shirt aur navy skirt pe ek extra layer ka stress—kahin kuch visible toh nahi, kahin stain toh nahi, kahin smell toh nahi. Period ke dino mein kapde kapde kam aur surveillance zyada lagte hain.

Mirror ke saamne ek girl apni eyeliner theek kar rahi thi. Do girls side mein khadi gossip kar rahi thi.

“Attendance lagegi kya aaj?” “Arre, professor ko batao toh bolte hain, ‘College mein professionalism chahiye.’”

Maine stall ke andar se yeh suna aur ek strange, achanak se gussa andar uth gaya.

Professionalism.

Jaise blood, cramps, nausea, weakness—yeh sab koi mood board pe choose kiya gaya aesthetic ho.

Main 19 ki hoon. Second year. And still, period ke dino mein mujhe aisa feel hota hai jaise meri body mujhe hi corner mein khada kar ke bol rahi ho: aaj tumhara din nahi hai. Aaj tumhari marzi secondary hai.

Maine apna face wash kiya. Aankhon ke neeche shadow thi. Chehra thoda pale. Aur us reflection mein mujhe sirf pain nahi dikha—mujhe unfairness dikha.

School mein kabhi kabhi mummy “tabiyat theek nahi” bol ke chhutti nikalwa deti thi. College mein? College mein sabko lagta hai tum “adjust” kar loge. Jaise body ka pain ek administrative inconvenience ho.

Stall ka door kholte waqt mere andar ek line clear ho gayi.

Why is this still normal?

Main bahar nikli. Bas ek second ke liye bathroom ke sink ke saamne ruk kar maine khud se quietly kaha, “Nahi. Yeh normal nahi hai.”

Aur usi din se mere dard ke saath ek aur cheez start hui—fight.

The Petition

College ke canteen mein lunch time pe hamesha ek controlled chaos hota tha. Steel ke glasses, half-eaten vada pav, nimbu paani, notebook pe doodles, breakup discussions, intern ki tension, aur kisi corner mein kisi ka loud laughter.

Main aur Ananya corner wali table pe baithi thi. Ananya meri bestie thi aur honestly meri sabse necessary contradiction. Main aag thi, woh brake. Main pehle bol deti thi, woh pehle sochti thi. Main har cheez ko moral clarity mein dekhna chahti thi; woh uske fallout ko bhi dekh leti thi. Isi liye hum best friends the—because she could hear my fire without trying to extinguish it.

Notebook khula hua tha. Upar maine bold letters mein likha tha: “Period Leave Petition.”

Neeche points: - health - dignity - attendance flexibility - confidential self-declaration - no academic penalty

Ananya ne notebook dekha aur ek slow, suspicious look diya. “Tu seriously karne wali hai.”

“Main mazaak mein itna neat handwriting nahi karti,” maine bola.

“Tu mazaak mein bhi aise behave karti hai jaise election campaign kar rahi ho.”

Mujhe hansi aa gayi, par phir main serious ho gayi. “Ananya, I’m done pretending this is a small thing.”

Woh thoda chup rahi. “Mujhe problem issue se nahi hai. Mujhe problem backlash se hai.”

“Backlash toh aayega.”

“Exactly.” Usne straw ghumaya. “Attention-seeking bolenge. Feminist drama. Special treatment. Tum samajh rahi ho na?”

“Main samajh rahi hoon. Aur let them.”

Ananya ne mujhe dekha, almost helplessly. “Myra, tumhari himmat pe mujhe kabhi doubt nahi hota. Bas administration ko ‘let them’ se farq nahi padta. Unke liye har cheez precedent hoti hai. Woh bolenge—kal migraine, kal mood off, kal class nahi aane ka excuse.”

“Period migraine se alag hai,” maine turant bola. “It’s a predictable biological cycle. Excuse nahi.”

“Main jaanti hoon,” woh softly boli. “Main bas bol rahi hoon ki unki language mein baat karni padegi.”

Uski baat sahi thi. Yeh uska style tha—problem ko dilute nahi karti thi, bas uske around ek workable bridge bana deti thi.

Usi waqt Kabir table ke paas aaya. Third year ka boy, economics ka, calm as if duniya uske shoulders pe noise nahi daal paati. Boys mein aise log rare hote hain jo “bro chill” bolke kisi serious cheez ko trivialize nahi karte. Kabir listen karta tha. Aur phir practical help deta tha.

Usne notebook dekha. “Petition?”

“Yep,” maine bola.

Kabir ne seedha seat khinch ke baith gaya. “Good. Kaafi time se hona chahiye tha.”

Ananya ne usko side-eye diya. “Tum sach mein support karoge? Ya bas intellectual sympathy?”

Kabir hansa, bina offended hue. “Support karunga. Data bhi. Agar tum log chaho toh main other colleges ki policies, medical references, aur attendance rules ka comparison nikaal sakta hoon.”

Maine uski taraf dekha. “Exactly what we need.”

Kabir ne calmly add kiya, “Aur issue ko ‘girls special treatment’ ke frame mein mat rakho. Usse log defensive ho jaate hain. Campus health policy bolo. Accommodation bolo. It sounds like welfare, not privilege.”

Ananya ne first time thoda relax karke chai ka glass neeche rakha. “That actually makes sense.”

Maine pen uthaya. “Then let’s start.”

Uske baad humne canteen aur corridor mein students se baat karni shuru ki. Simple ask tha: sign the petition, share your experience, say this out loud.

Pehli sign ek girl ne ki. Bina kuch bole. Bas pen liya aur naam likh diya, jaise ye uske liye koi permission slip ho.

Phir ek dusri girl ne aankhen neeche rakhe hue kaha, “Mere cramps bahut severe hote hain. Main class mein baithti hoon toh bas pray karti hoon ki teacher notice na kare.”

Ek first year girl ne whisper kiya, “Meri attendance low ho gayi thi kyunki main faint ho gayi thi. Professor ne bola, ‘Excuses bahut ho gaye.’”