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She stood on the threshold, hand in hand
The embroidered veil on her head,
Duties of a wife in her mind,
And hopes for the future in her heart.
All was well until that herald of the devil came.
Her legs felt wet, the gown stained red,
And then, the torment followed.
For she was cursed for the next 5 days.
Her bangles torn, her anklets withdrawn,
And was banished to a gloomy corner.
Her only fault, being a woman.
A meeting was called in the office of wise,
For she had committed a sin.
She got up from her chair, leaving behind
What looked like a bright red stain.
Heads were shaken, comments exchanged.
How can she not have a shred of shame?
Leaving behind a mark of her filth.
That is certainly the worst offense.
That is what periods are, a hellish bane
For a 'normal biological phenomenon' seems too insane.
Of course, vaginas are okay to be sold.
But it is a crime to talk about the bleeding.
"It is normal", "it happens to all". Yes, some people say that.
But in this excuse of a reality,
condoms are easier to buy than pads.
You cheat, you abuse, you torment, you steal
And then dare to call my bleeding body unclean.
'Menstruating women not allowed', the sign outside the temple says,
Where people bow their heads in front of the Goddesses to pray.
So that is the irony, the bane of a womb.
Maybe, it becomes a little better soon.
For maybe somewhere, a clutched stomach was all it took
For a guy to offer her chocolate, instead of a dirty look.