In the evening, Kalpana returned home to sombre feeling floating about the house. Tai-ajji sat in her favourite rusty chair by the window, with her eyes half-closed, muttering holy incantations as she turned the rosary beads fervently through her fingers. Aai rushed out of the kitchen, wiping her wet hands on her faded green nighty, only to meet Kalpana’s guilty eyes. “You got your period today?” Aai asked urgently and found her answer in Kalpana’s lowered eyes. “Go, go inside and have a head bath. You didn’t go to the pandals I hope!” added Aai, as Kalpana sprinted inside and straight into the bathroom.

The rest of the week brought wafts of agarbatti, steaming ukdichey modak and sizzling aloowadis. Every evening Sudya anna would regale the family over dinner about the unique Ganesha idols, the richly decorated pandals and the best prasads that were distributed across their suburb.

Through it all the only dampener (no pun intended) was Kalpana’s period. The red fairy (why was she even called that?) showed no signs of leaving. Diagnosed with PCOS, Kalpana faced painful, long durations of bleeding. Sometimes she could not tell if the bleeding was from the current month or the one that had passed. She hated it when the doctor asked her the dreaded question: “LMP kab tha?” for she had no idea of the exact date. Yet over the years, she had made her peace with her condition, weaving in her part-time master’s degree and tutoring job which took her to different parts of Bombay, teaching children of the ICSE school system subjects like Marathi and Maths.

Tai-ajji’s “Ajun chalu aahet ka ga?” (Are they still on?) broke her out of her reverie on Day 5. Kalpana wanted to scream at the rhetoric but instead, suppressed it and simply nodded her head to denote a yes. She was honestly fed up of everyone around her asking in words and quizzical expressions if her periods were still on, but there was little she could say to satisfy their curiosity. She had no answers to give them. Sometimes her period stayed for 5 days, sometimes 7 and even 15 days. What they would do this month was a suspense thriller that had everyone on the edge of their seats, almost.

By day 7, the Ganeshas across some of the famous and must-see pandals around Bombay, had bid farewell and been whisked away to be immersed in the sea that surrounded the city. As for Kalpana she had not been able to go pay obeisance at a single pandal. Every morning it was the same drill, wake up feeling icky, sticky, mucky… check for stains, stay out of Tai-ajji and Aai’s way for they would be up early in the morning, washed, bathed, preparing for the God’s aarti and naivedya. A single touch or in Tai-ajji’s case an invisible piece of dust from Kalpana’s body had the capacity to pollute all divine proceedings. So, Kalpana had always been told, expected and got herself habituated to remaining out of sight, sound and touch during her periods.

Yet as the days inched closer towards the final day of the celebration, Kalpana grew restless. “Aai please, it’s been over 8 days. I cannot go through this year too without His blessings. You know this is a big year for me.” Aai looked at Kalpana with a sorry yet unwielding expression “Tai-ajji will create a tamasha. Cannot help it beta.”

This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon