Laxmi’s Padgiri

“Thak thak thak thak.... thak thak thak thak...”

Something was punching in my ears in my dreams, I thought for a moment. There was again that irritating thumps penetrated into my head. I thought I was still feeling the sound that was deafening me in the back of the tempo I had travelled the last evening. It took a while to realise that it was not a hallucination or dream.

“thak thak thak thak.... thak thak thak thak...”

The sound bounced in a desperate loop. It was someone on the door. I had heard of peculiar ways of treating people in Pune, but definately did not expect this fashion. So, that’s how we were greeted on our first morning in Pune. But that wasn’t it as something more weird was ready to welcome us in the then emerging metro.

We had shifted our belongings a night ago and yet to place them. That was hardly a space to live as compared to our previous house. But that was it. We were dog tired and crashed out like ice bears the last night. So, it took a couple of moments for both of us to figure out what exactly was going on.

That was something to remember. Afterall, that was the first knock on our new house. In fact, it was a big thump and not a knock. Well begun is half done! I half opened the door to face a furious female face with a big red bindi and underneath it was a pair of eyes shooting out a truck load of anger at me.

“Where’s your wife?” she shouted.

She was right behind me, my wife. She also was taken aback with the dreadful style of welcoming someone in the neighbourhood. I was a bit relieved as my wife, trying as awake as possible, took the charge from me.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Are you having your periods?”

“What?” We both screamed at once. What a way to break the ice! As if take an aim at the iceberg with an excavating machine and boom... make a tunnel. The entire heap of an iceberg is churned into flakes the next moment.

“Are you on with your periods?” The lady was asking in a Marathi dialect. Still, the content prevented us from understanding the meaning, concern and purpose.

“N..n..No.. why?”

“Then it is ok. Let me tell you that our gods don’t allow us and they’ll punish you if you do.”

“What? What for?”

“Let me finish, you’ll be punished by our gods if you throw that f**** cotton in the trash.”

What cotton? What trash? What gods? Why punishment?

Did we commit a blunder by coming to Pune? Is cotton not allowed here?

“Who are you?” my wife seemed to be sorted and brave than me.

“Laxmi... I am a trash collector for your building. You are not supposed to throw your dirty cotton in the trash. Everyone knows here.”

Now, we realised. Not me of couse. My wife realised it first. The girly talk you know. Laxmi was the garbage collector and she found some ‘dirty cotton’ in her basket. She was referring to a stained sanitary napkin. And someone told her that we were the new ones in the housing society, so she thought it might be us who pushed her towards the sins.

“But it doesn’t seem like if you are telling the truth.” And she stormed out of our baffled faces. I was sure she left us to find the culprit and appeal to her gods.

We looked at eachother after closing the door and then we exploded laughing. What was that? We asked eachother, but quickly realised the horrible feeling of Laxmi, the garbage collector, to pick some other woman’s menstrual blood in her hands to dispose off just because she was poor. This happened almost 17 years ago in a suburb in Pune.

That was my first encounter with this situation of sanitary pads. I didn’t have any sister, so I really never needed to face this issue. And we were living in a small village where this thing was a good taboo. The pads met me only after my marriage. But still, I never realised the grave problem till the time I met Laxmi in Pune. Lakshmi never had to wear this scary Avatar against us as we were threatened enough not to throw the ‘dirty cotton’ in her garbage basket. But then where to throw them? That question stayed with me for many days later on.

Slowly, the struggles of life overpowered the sensitivity towards social issues and I almost forgot that incident till the last year. There was a small effort taken by the Pune Municipal Corporation to add some respect to the profession of a waste collector. It was an initiative in association with an NGO called RED DOT. It was a campaign of the same name. The organisation had asked the women to wrap the used pads in the multiple layers of the newspaper and seal it with the adhesive tape, make a big red dot on it to differentiate. This waste would be collected in a separate baskets by the collectors and the PMC workers would pick and the organisation would dispose them. It was such a great initiative. I don’t know if it’s still on. Then, there are some efforts taken by the BJP led central government where they made it compulsory for the manufacturers to provide a leak proof pouch with every napkin. This at least helped to stop leakages and stains in the garbage. At least they don’t have to see what they are picking though they know that it’s there somewhere in the piles of garbage.

The internet is filled with the dangers of sanitary pads and their disposing problems. I read somewhere that the plastic and the chemicals are so hazardous to the environment that these non-biodegradable materials could stay for 800 years. It’s like leaving our sins to be repaid by our future generations if they survive from the extinction during these years.

There’s hardly any change in the situation of the waste collectors in last 17 years, may it be a female or a male. Many residential societies have male garbage collectors. The modern and educated women, living there, hardly have awareness about this issue. Moreover they also don’t have any choice but to throw the sanitary napkins in the garbage. The problem is still more with the offices where women work.

Definitely, we need to give more and more women access to their basic rights of celebrating womanhood. But still, the problem might remain the same. What about the disposal of the pads?

There are disposable sanitary napkins also available, but they are not in everybody’s reach. And there are a few locally made disposable napkin brands that are not much preferred by the women. The other options like menstrual cups need more awareness in India. It’s a one-time investment. Using cotton cloths like old days is not possible for a working woman in a metro. So, all they can do is to rely on the easily available brands over the counter.

And let’s not forget that it’s not only about sanitary napkins. The same sad story tags the baby and adult diapers. There are not enough facilities to collect them and dispose them properly. That too without causing any harm to the environment.

Today, the celebrities are posting their pictures on the social media holding a new and unused sanitary pad in their hands and tearing the shame out of it. We all know that it’s about the movie PAD MAN. It’s a promotional drive. The movie is based on the inspiring greatness of the real life padman - Arunachalam Muruganantham. This might be a real good entertainer, may be a message driven flick. A few lakhs of deprived women might get their honour and they might start using this hygienic option. The leading actor Akshay Kumar might get another national award for this. The director R. Balki may get praises and Mr. Muruganantham certainly will get the deserved bows. Unfortunately, this will fizzle out, barring the exception of Mr. Arunachalam Muruganantham, with the next big release. People will start with new drives and campaigns and worships.

Mr. Muruganantham is no doubt a pad man. He deserves such honour and acknowledgement. But there are many pad men and women around us who are doing equally great job. They don’t ask for a pat on their backs or an honour with an award. All they need is some respect.

I am not an expert on this who has done all the scientific research to come up with solutions. I am a commoner like you who can think. So, please spread a word and see if someone extra-ordinary among us come up with a respectable solution for our garbage collectors so that no Laxmi needs to wear a mask of false anger to hide her shame.