The bloody pratha of Chhaupadi

The mosquitoes have been buzzing all night. I tried swatting it away with my hands but it has been continuously buzzing for so long that now my hands are too tired to even try. I try to sleep but the itch in my leg and the constant pain in my lower stomach is sucking my life out of me. Period cramps are the worst thing to happen to a woman. Imagine the pain you feel when a truck drives over you or when 106 knives are stabbed on your stomach. Trust me when I say they are less painful than period cramps. I wish I were exaggerating but I'm not.

“ए माइली को बुबा सुन्नुस न|” This is probably the eighth time that I have called out and been ignored by my husband. I wanted to tell him how I have been burning up all night and how these mosquitoes are sucking not just my blood, but the entire life out of me. I wanted to tell him that I am lying on a puddle of my own blood. I wanted to tell him that this pain in my stomach will not go away unless I drink some hot water. I wanted to tell him that it is too dark in here and I miss my room and my bed and his warm embrace. I wanted to tell him how bad this cow shed stinks and just how difficult it is to sleep on the cold, hard ground. I had a lot to tell him but no he did not care. Nobody cared.

------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ -

I pry my eyes open and found myself shivering. My teeth were chattering from the cold and as I took a whiff of the pungent smell of my own blood, I wanted to cry. I had goosebumps all over my body and my tear stained cheeks were the evidence that I had cried myself to sleep last night. My entire body was sore and I could barely move. I knew I could not stay that way all day so in attempts of moving my sore body, I turned around. I turned around and my left hand landed in something gooey and smelly. Crunching my face in disgust, I raised my hand saw that there was cow dung on my hand. Sighing about the fact that I would now have to get used to this, I forced myself up and left the cow shed that had been my ‘bedroom’ for seven days.

“माइली को बुबा मैले हिजो हजुर लै कत्ति बोलाए किन आउनु भएन?” I asked my husband as soon as I saw him lounging around in the room with a cup of warm tea in his hands. If my anger and disappointment towards him was evident on my face, I did not make an attempt to hide it. I wanted him to know how hurt I was and how disappointed I was in him for not defending me against his mother. For a thirty three year old, he was not mature at all, always hiding behind his mother and always taking her side. I used to work as a helper at a house in Kathmandu. They never made me sleep outdoors when I was menstruating which is why I never knew that women were made to sleep in cow sheds at a vulnerable time like this. When my mother married me off to a stranger in Accham, a month back, he had promised to love and cherish me and had so lovingly said that he would always take care of me. And he had proved me wrong the night he pushed me inside the cow shed and locked me there for seven days. 

“तैले बोलौदै मा म औउन को लागि म तेरो कुक्कुर हो र? कि नोक्कर ठानिस मलाई तेरो?” I could see how livid Hari looked. He was angry at me when it should have been the other way around. I was so confused.

“हजुर उल्टै म संग किन रिसाउनु भाको? मलाई यो सात दीन मा कत्ति कष्ट भयो भनेर हजुर लाई के थाहा छ र? हजुर त आराम ले खाट मा सुत्नु भयो|एकचोटी पनि आफ्नो बुढी को याद आएन? एकचोटी आमा लाई गएर मेरो बुढी लाई म मेरै कोठा मा राख्छु भनेर भन्न सक्नु भएन?” I shouted and I shouted and I could feel a river of tears flowing down my cheeks. I would wipe it every second but it just wouldn’t stop. I never knew that I would be punished so gruesomely for something so natural. I new knew that going through menstruation was such a sin. 

I thought seeing me cry like that would spark an emotion in Hari but he seemed so cold hearted. There was not even a flicker of sympathy in his eyes.That stoic expression he had on his face and that nonchalant behavior he showed was something that shattered my heart into pieces. I never realized till that moment that I had indeed married a stranger.
A month had passed and I was starting to be more anxious as the days flew by. My menstrual date was near and it made me so anxious, I felt as if my heart would fly out of my mouth. I did not want to spend seven horrid days in the cow shed again. Day by day, I was realizing the pain and the struggles of women more and more. My hands were starting to shake and I was dreading the days to come.

My bubble of thought was interrupted when Hari came barging into the room and started spewing all the nonsense out of his mouth. “किन टोलाएर बसिराको छस ह? भोलि तेरो पर सर्ने पाप सुरु हुन्छ हैन? छि फोहोरी|” His face clearly showed disgust as he looked at me from head to toe and shuddered in disgust. “भोलि बिहानै तेरो मुख नदेखाई सुरु सुरु गएर गोठ मा बस्लास| बुझिस?”

I knew that I had no energy left to argue with him. I had lost all hope and I was completely broken. I knew that I could not stop him from doing this to me. I knew that my body had no power and strength to fight for seven days in the cow shed. And I knew that no matter what one does or no matter what happens, people’s mindset is near to impossible to change.

I could feel a drop of tear touch my cheek as the realization hit me. Realization that I was no longer going to be able to survive like this. Realization that my body was no longer going to tolerate it.

------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ ------ -

I slammed the book as I wiped my tears with the back of my hand. My chest was heaving and I was finding it hard to breathe. I ran my fingers through the cover of the book I had just finished reading. “The bloody pratha of Chaupadi”, as the title said, was written by Yoona Chaulagain. After interviewing the woman in Accham, Yoona has depicted how that woman had fell into the deadly trap of Chaupadi. The real life story, showed just how much pain and struggles women in the far western have to face. The woman on whom the book was written had died after sleeping in the shed for three days. Bad hygiene and suffocation were the cause of her death, it was found. And here I was, reading her story, when she was not even among us anymore.

I could not stop crying even when I had finished the book because I could merely put myself in her shoes. That was the story of ONE woman but how many more women are suffering? How many women are dying? How many?