by Rimli Bhattacharya
She bloomed as a woman,
With her new breasts budding she saw –
Her first blood running between her thighs.
Was there a pain? No and yes.
The uterus was talking to her,
It cried as it had shed the eggs,
She was not pregnant.
She bled each month,
She had her periods;
She was not a rage wailing shrew.
The uterus is on a cleansing mode,
The ovary which was ready for ovulation,
Is now bleeding.
The vagina discharged the worn out tissues,
Which would have otherwise held babies,
Her body has started the monthly job,
With her sole confidant –
She surf the crimson waves,
On those days –
She is either on tampons,
Or rides a cotton mustang.
Yes she has a visitor,
She is a woman with a monthly friend,
The uterus gladiator;
For she is a menstruating lady,
With red coats every month.
About the author
Rimli Bhattacharya (Mumbai, India) is a first class gold medalist in Mechanical Engineering from the National Institute of Technology and has an MBA in supply chain management. Her essay on mental illness in the anthology Book of Light (a nonfiction genre) was published with Speaking Tiger Publications. She writes for several magazines, Times of India, engineering journals and blogs, and is also a trained Indian Classical Dancer. Rimli has been awarded a Star Blogger by team Bonobology for her essay ‘Running a solo Marathon’. You can contact her via Twitter.
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