By: Kumar
A week before her period, Sani felt as if she were in someone else’s body, but not her own. Her chest felt heavy when she woke up in the morning, she noticed a sudden change in mood and would feel aches throughout her body. She was now 21, a college student in Janakpur, but even at such a young age, she knew that the backaches, sudden bouts of depression, and anger that came before her period were not normal. At first, Sani blamed herself. “Maybe I’m overdoing it,” she thought. “Perhaps I could be stronger.”
But each time she would begin complaining to her mother how poorly she felt, she always got the same answer — “Drink hot water and sleep. It happens to everyone.” Those words hurt Sani even more, because what she was going through didn’t feel normal to her — it seemed like her body was waging war on itself. That condition, she later learned, is called PMS or premenstrual syndrome. Headaches, fatigue, gas, and emotional turmoil were all part of it. In Sani’s case, it meant not being able to pay attention in class, fighting with her brother over small things, and crying in her room alone—and not understanding why it was happening. But many girls like Sani never think about going to the doctor. In a society where talking about menstruation is embarrassing, it seems like the physical and mental state that precedes menstruation
seems even more taboo- not at home, and certainly not with friends.
At one time Sani attempted to discuss sexual and reproductive health in front of a few girls. The teacher smiled and shook her head, but the subject was quickly abandoned. It seemed like society thought that this was something to be tolerated, not discussed. In Nepal, PMS is considered so common that it is almost invisible. Girls are advised to drink warm water, rest, and drink milk mixed with turmeric before going to bed. But is that enough? Should we remain silent even when PMS is starting to affect mental health, affect studies, and put strain on relationships?
Sani feels that this is one of the great ironies—society makes hundreds of rules about what not to eat and where not to go during menstruation, but no one takes seriously the pain that girls have to endure before menstruation begins. Sani’s story is not an exception—it is the sad truth. There are thousands of girls who are silently enduring similar pain, unseen and unheard. Today, Sani still struggles with those premenstrual storms. But now she is learning to recognize the symptoms, tracking them, and most importantly—now she can speak about them openly without shame. She hopes that future generations will not only have to hear “drink hot water and sleep,” but will also be taught that their pain is important and deserves proper care.