Period Panic. And other Superstitions.

The monthly cycle and what would happen when it happened - this train of thought occupied prime real estate in the minds of all the girls in the slum immersion program. Except the lucky (see how context changes perceptions) few with erratic cycles that didn't follow the calender, it was inevitable for everyone because it was a one month stint in the slum.

The reactions we heard from various houses was quite an eye opener. 

Rekha referred to it as MC. For the longest time, I thought she wa using a local term which sounded like 'im-see'. When I did realize that she was referring to the short form of 'menstrual cycle' I was very amused!

She told me she used cloth which she washed and re-used every month. 14-year old Poonam used sanitary napkins, but that month they had no money, so she had to use cloth. Much to Rekha's chagrin, Poonam would use and throw the pieces of cloth. She refused to wash and re-use the rags. 

The don't-touch-the-idols-of-the-god rule prevailed of course, and it didn't surprise me. 

In one of the houses, one of our fellows was told that her 'shadow shouldn't fall on anyone or anything in the house' during that time. A more progressive family took her in during that time, otherwise it would have been a tough week for her.

Another fellow was asked to leave. Downright. They asked her to come back when she was 'clean' again. They wouldn't even let her pack her stuff - she was made to stand at the door and direct the lady of the house about which of her things she needed. She was then taken in by a Muslim family for that time period.

The most surprising thing is that women do this to other women. 

Rekha told me that when she was pregnant with her first child, her mother-in-law made her do heavy farm work up to the eighth month of her pregnancy. The doctor told her that she would miscarry if this continued, and she asked her mother and brother to come take her away. But as per some archaic belief-system, the girl of the house cannot enter the maternal house till she is in her ninth month of pregnancy. So they came and took her away only when the ninth month started.

The same mother and brother did not visit her for the first two weeks this time too when she gave birth to the baby girl.  Despite the fact that they knew she was in this all alone. Clearly, antediluvian practices take precedence over the health and well-being of a loved one.

 I noticed how these people have blind faith in God. In a room that can barely hold 5 people, one wall is still dedicated to idols and images of deities. And this is true  of people living in makeshift houses on the pavements too. You are just left wondering if it is hope that makes them pray, or fear.

One of our fellows visited a house during the Ganpati festival where the people had been hungry for two days. Yet they had a Ganpati being worshiped at home because someone had donated the Ganpati to them. It is sad and perplexing that people will give you an idol to worship, but won't give you food to eat.

Sanitation. Or lack thereof.

I have received more questions about sanitation and requests for pictures of the 'mori' than any other aspect of the slum-stay. So here goes.

For more clarity, these are the purposes it served.

The mori sufficed in every way, except one. Defecation. 

Legal slums that I visited, like those in Wadala with numbered houses and proper addresses, have closed toilets. No running water, but there are four walls within which one can defecate. You carry your bucket of water and endure the smell, but you have some privacy.

Since this slum was an illegal one, there was no such provision. So men and women just went in the open, next to this area by the sea where fish were dried. It was more of a dump yard really. 

The only cleaning mechanism in the area was the presence of pigs. Anyone familiar with a pig's diet will know what I mean.

No water, no lights, no walls.

In the adjacent slum, women are frequently dragged into the bushes by men and raped when they go to do  their business. These are then discussed in hushed tones, but rarely reported.

I hadn't quite been able to bring myself to visit the place till another friend of mine living in a more decent slum came visiting. She was intrigued, and I finally mustered the courage to go see this place with her. Poonam and Neelam took us for the tour.

Neelam found a 2 rupee coin in the area that she quickly picked up, while we were busy absorbing the shock.

The silver living was that you couldn't smell the fecal stench. Because you were overpowered by the smell of dried fish,  which hangs like clothes right next to  the area. 

A dash of humour during this expedition came in the form of my friend's curiosity and, well....guts!

Alpita : I don’t get it, where do the women go?
Me : Right where you are walking in.

Alpita : (Keeps walking in) But there is no place to go here, it is an open dump yard. I  don’t get it.

Me: Stop going in!

Alpita :  (Walking in further) But……(Stopping in mid-speech) Ok, I can see shit.  (And she wasn't speaking figuratively)

Me : Very brave! Now get out of there!

Alpita :  (Out of  the area) I think am in shock. And I need to take a shower.

There was a hilarious perspective-building exchange I had with Rekha soon after.

She was telling me of a visit to this village called Shanishingnapur near Pune. It is reputed because no house in the village has doors, so strong is their faith in the powers of the local god, Shani. There is never a theft in the village because it is believed  that anyone trying to steal will end up in front of the mandir, no matter where they try to go.

No doors also mean no closed bathrooms. The women of the house wake up by 4am and take a  bath outside the house before the men wake up. Rekha found this to be an invasion of privacy and refused to bathe outside. 

She succinctly summed up how violated she felt there - "They had no mori!", she said. 

I had to bite my lip to keep myself from laughing. 

Before going into the slum immersion program, I had been concerned about finding a clean toilet. Soon after, I re-calibrated my priorities. I now prayed for a closed toilet.