I was waiting under the shade of a big, beautiful tree in the school, preparing to hold a menstrual health session for the Class 9 girls. As I stood there, an elderly lady with a radiant smile walked up to me.
I asked her name and why she was at the school. Smiling, she said, “I come every day to sweep the falling leaves. The school doesn’t pay me… but I come anyway. It’s been many years — I just enjoy helping.” Her name was Alagamma, but she chuckled and said, *“The children here call me *Nayanthara!”
I laughed — “Ah! Like the famous actress! That means the children think you are very beautiful.”She giggled, her face glowing, her big gold earrings sparkling with little white and red stones. She turned a little shy, hiding her face behind her saree.
Soon, the girls arrived. I asked everyone to settle under the tree and invited Nayanthara Paati to sit with us. She quietly joined the group, sitting with a straight back, observing everything.
We started the session with a minute of silence — eyes closed, letting go of everything else, grounding ourselves in the present. Then came the handkerchief exercise — I asked the girls to imagine placing all their fear, shame, doubts, anger — anything holding them back from asking questions — into the cloth. Together, we let it go. I reminded them, “This is a safe space. No judgment. No right or wrong questions. We are here to listen with open hearts, open ears, and curious eyes.”
I asked, “What comes out of our body during menstruation?” Harini, a bright and confident girl, answered quickly, “Blood!” Then I asked, “Why does that blood come? What does it mean?”
Out of 22 girls, 21 said, “We don’t know.” Only Harini replied, “It’s bad blood — it comes out to clean the body.” Some others said they’d heard it helps “keep body weight in control.”
Of the 22, 5 were still in puberty, the rest had started their period.Curious, I turned to the granny and asked, “Paati, what does it mean when a girl gets her first period?”
She answered without hesitation, “It means she’s ready for marriage!” The whole group burst into laughter — even Paati laughed, amused and slightly embarrassed by how naturally she had said it.
But I gently added, “Actually, part of what Paati said is true — let me explain.” I told them, “When a girl’s body starts changing — breasts growing, hips widening, pubic hair, pimples, white discharge — it’s a sign the body is preparing. And then one day, the period comes — this is called menarche.” “Even if someone is just 10 years old, once blood flows from the vagina, it means
the body now has the magic ability to create a baby. That’s why, traditionally, society started marrying girls after their first period.” “But — this is very important — just because the body is ready to make a baby does not mean the girl is ready mentally, emotionally, or physically to handle it. She herself is still a child.”
“Only when you grow older — cross 24 or 25 — do you really begin to understand yourself, your life, and what you want. Then you can decide when and whether marriage is right for you.”
Then I asked Paati, “At what age did you get your period?”She shared quietly, “I was married even before I got my first period… I had eloped before it ever came.”
A wave of silence passed through the group — her story reflecting the reality of her time and many generations before. I used this as a moment to explain, “This is why elders in society say, ‘Don’t talk to boys after menarche.’ It’s because once the body has the ability to get pregnant, they become afraid.” “But here’s the truth — it is perfectly natural to feel attraction toward boys or for boys to feel attraction to girls during adolescence. Our hormones make us feel this way — it’s not wrong, it’s not bad.” “But remember — that doesn’t mean you are ready to choose your life partner now. You are still growing. Your needs, your dreams, and your understanding of life will change as you grow. What feels right now may not be the best decision for your future self.”
As the session continued, Paati’s caring presence became even more noticeable. She started scolding the girls whose backs were hunched, “Sit up straight! You’re young — don’t sit like old people!”
The girls laughed, quickly straightening their backs, teasingly adjusting their posture. Then Paati stood up, looked at them kindly, and said, “Listen carefully to what this teacher is saying. Learn well.”
Before leaving, with her generous heart, she offered us all a small snack — roasted rice with salt. Simple, humble, but full of love. She handed it to the girls and to me.
She told me she had given birth to six children — four boys and two girls — and now had grandchildren and even great-grandchildren. As I sat there, watching her walk away, I couldn’t help but reflect on how beautiful, free-spirited, and full of wisdom she was — offering her presence, her care, and her knowledge so naturally.
✨ A day of learning, laughter, truth, and generations of wisdom — under the
shade of a beautiful tree.
-By Kalvi ( Eco Femme)
