Olivia wrung her hands as she checked for the fifth time that everything was ready for the presentation. She needed this to work. She didn’t know what else to do if it didn’t. She glanced at the door yet again. At this rate, she’d be speaking to an empty room. Well, Navya would do most of the talking. They’d decided that would be best and rehearsed and rehearsed what she would say. The information would be better received from another local woman, she knew.
The other teachers clustered at a table with Mukesh, on hand in case she needed anything, mostly there for moral support. Chris, Noah, and Jack had agreed to leave as soon as the presentation began, to ensure the women would be as comfortable as possible discussing the completely taboo subject.
The minute hand drew closer to the hour, and her stomach sank. She’d worried attendance would be low but assumed a few women would come, even if only out of sheer curiosity. Apparently, she had gotten even that wrong. Noah and Jack leaned against a wall, chatting, cameras in hand, ready to record for their documentary until they left. Emma would handle recording the presentation.
Noah glanced at his watch and shrugged at her. “Sorry, love.”
Chris blanched. Startled? Disappointed no one showed up? Ready to throttle Noah for his insistence on calling her “love”? She could understand any of those responses.
She turned to apologize to Navya and Mukesh, when soft voices and the shuffling of feet sounded from the courtyard. She crossed to the door and peered outside. Ms. Vanya and Mrs. Gupta led a mob of women, many carrying babies or holding toddlers’ hands or both. They streamed toward the door, the serpentine group stretching all the way out to the street.
Emma walked backward, recording the progress as they made their way.
“I’ll be blowed,” Jack said.
“Bloody hell!” Noah swung his camera to his face and began to record. “They did it.”
“Remember, you’re supposed to be invisible,” she reminded him.
“Right, love.” He backed into a corner out of sight just as the first of the women reached the door and peered in tentatively.
“Come in! Come in!” Olivia encouraged.
Ms. Vanya slithered through the hesitant bodies and popped into the space, her smile and enthusiasm filling the room with new energy. Olivia swore the room got brighter while the woman guided and encouraged them all to come inside.
She nudged Navya. “Go ahead.”
How had they managed it? The women continued to stream in, and she gladly slunk into the background, happy to let the Indian women take command. They sat at small tables, in chairs they dwarfed, until all the seats were filled, and then they sat on the floor.
Only when everyone had settled and no more bodies squeezed inside did Olivia move to the front to begin. “Thank you all so much for coming. I’ve spoken with a lot of you in town. I teach here at the school. Probably teach some of your children. We invited you here so Navya can talk to you about an opportunity. We’re working with this gentleman, Mukesh, who invented a machine designed to help his wife and mother.” She left out the parts about his town believing he’d been possessed by demons and his wife and mother leaving him.
Mrs. Gupta jumped in during the pause and spoke in another language, presumably translating her words into something they could understand. Good grief, she hadn’t even considered how many of these women might not speak English. Thank goodness the older woman had and could interpret for her.
Mukesh addressed the crowd in their native tongue as well. She couldn’t understand but didn’t need to. She had all the information she needed already. Besides, she could enjoy Mukesh speaking without understanding his words. He gestured a few times and mimed wrapping something up. Hesitant giggles erupted from the group, which broke the ice and relieved some of the tension vibrating through the space. He always set her at ease and made her laugh with his quick wit and humor. She was not surprised he’d cracked a joke so much as she was to see the stoic, standoffish women break into laughter.
After Mukesh excused himself and disappeared out the door, taking the other guys with him, Olivia nodded to Navya. The young woman moved to the center of the room where she could address everyone. She unfastened the edges of her veil and lowered it, exposing her scarred face. Olivia sucked in a breath along with many others present. She had not suggested or encouraged Navya to do this. It wasn’t part of their practiced speech. But she couldn’t deny the young woman had captured her audience’s attention.
Navya took a deep breath. “My husband did this to me. And he hurt my baby. My baby sees a doctor now because Olivia arranged. Maybe she will use her arm again. My baby and I are safe now, but how can I take care of us? My uncle and my mother take care of us, but when they are no more, what will I do? I could not get a job, but now I have a job. Mukesh brought his machine to help us all.”
Olivia watched the rapt expressions, saw sympathy and understanding, and knew she’d been correct to have Navya lead the presentation. They could identify on a level and connect in a way a foreigner could not. Once she had grabbed their attention, Navya shifted into the material Olivia had prepared with her, driving home the health statistics and the risks to all of them that the pad machine would eradicate.
“Sisters,” Navya said, “we deserve better. Let me show you.”
On cue, Olivia brought forward a plastic tub, cloth strips, two pads, and a pitcher of water. She placed everything in the center of the room and encouraged all the participants to gather in close.
“When we use cloth,” Navya said, “we must stay home because the bleeding can go everywhere. It is messy and the cloth stains and we must clean the best we can. But sometimes we cannot clean well.”
Olivia held a wad of cloth strips in her hand and poured water over them, which of course rushed off into the plastic tub, splattering everywhere. The water saturated the fabric almost immediately. She squeezed the cloth and water pressed out between her fingers, dripping into the tub.
“But most women have no choice. Napkins are expensive. And even if we can buy napkins at the market, they can be messy.”
Olivia repeated the demonstration but using a pad from her purchase at the pharmacy. Water spilled from the sides of the thick, bulky thing. And when she squeezed, water leaked from it. “Better, but still not great if it leaks all over your clothes.”
“With the new machine, we make our own pads. They will be much cheaper, they are easy to wear, and you can move in them without leaks. They are made here, by your neighbors and sisters. When you buy, you get good napkins, and your neighbors and sisters get good jobs.”
She poured water over a pad made by the new machine. The top layer grabbed the liquid and pulled it to the absorbent core. When it was fully soaked, she squeezed, and no water escaped. The gasps that escaped the women watching her were exactly what they’d hoped for. Murmurs followed. For the first time in weeks, Olivia allowed herself a glimmer of hope. Maybe they could pull this off after all.
Navya raised her voice to be heard over the hubbub. “Sisters, I will tell you, it is my time, and I cannot tell. I use the napkins I make and I can go to the market, I can get water, I can work.” She turned around and showed her clean britches with no evidence of her time of the month. “With these napkins, I cannot tell. You cannot tell. No one can tell when it is your time.” She took the veil off her head. “I do not have to hide.”
That last bit they had not practiced. Navya turned around and looked to her. She smiled and nodded. The young woman had exceeded her hopes. Completely nailed it. A moment of utter silence worried her though. What were they all thinking?
The women nearest Navya reached toward her, hand open to accept a sample pad, ready to try. The other teachers joined them and helped distribute sample pads to every woman present.
In the midst of the excitement, the thrill of finally making progress and seeing light at the end of the tunnel, she glanced at the door. Aditi’s father stood there, scowl on his face. Every time she saw him, he scowled, so at this point she couldn’t be sure if a permanent scowl chiseled his features or if he reacted that way specifically to her. She found it difficult to imagine a smile on his face though. Now what did he want? This was for women only, and they’d made that abundantly clear. Why had he intruded and how much had he heard? And why did whatever he’d overheard appear to anger him?
Aditi’s mother reached for a pad. Olivia tore her gaze away from the door and pressed a second pad into her hands. “For Aditi.” The woman hesitated a moment before closing her fingers around it and nodding vigorously. The pads disappeared somewhere inside the folds of her clothing. Though the need to hide pads infuriated her, Olivia knew her fury would change nothing. These women would adapt to change the way circumstances required and that was the best she could hope for. If it meant surreptitious use of their product, so be it.
Meena and her mother hovered nearby, remaining close even after accepting pads. They seemed reluctant to approach her directly, so Olivia invited them. “Yes?”
Meena’s mother pushed her forward. “She will work.”
Startled, and not certain she understood correctly, she looked to Meena. The woman’s face fought to suppress a smile, but her eyes danced with delight. Though that told her everything she needed to know, she asked for clarification. Just to be sure. “You can work? You can come work with us?”
Meena nodded.
“But your dad?”
Meena’s mother wobbled her head. “She can work.”
Apparently Meena’s mother had made the impossible happen. Olivia had her second employee.
The sound of a man’s raised voice cut through the noisy banter of many excited children. Olivia and the other teachers attempted to separate the middle- and high-school-age children from the younger group, the girls from the boys, and those with permission slips from those without. You’d think they were heading out on an exciting fieldtrip from the cacophony and general carnival atmosphere. Apparently, any deviation from an established schedule could rile up children. Diwali crept closer and closer, and the impending holiday probably didn’t help.
The children were in for a shock, she feared, as today was the day of the personal hygiene presentations for the students old enough to attend and who’d received permission—not only for the talk itself but also to be recorded and potentially appear in a documentary. Noah went crazy at the thought of including the children’s reactions. Mrs. Gupta had agreed, with the one stipulation that the parents must agree in writing. Olivia remembered her own awkward experience in elementary school, sitting completely still with her fellow classmates, uncomfortably listening as the school nurse had them all make a fist and explained their uteruses were all approximately the size of their fist. Not their neighbor’s fist. Their own fist.
What a perfect analogy, she thought, that illustrated every woman was unique with her own set of issues and talents and shouldn’t compare herself to her neighbor.
But now in the midst of this craziness, an angry male voice grabbed her attention and startled her. Though the sound quickened her heartbeat and soured her stomach, she negotiated a path through the children, following the heated exchange to Mrs. Gupta’s office. She saw a man in the office, and every instinct in her body told her to go hide in her classroom. Frustrated that an angry man could still affect her on such a physiological level, she took a deep breath and refused to turn away.
Mrs. Gupta sat at her desk, arms crossed, as Aditi’s father railed at her. Mrs. Gupta caught sight of her, drawing his attention to the newcomer in the doorway.
He spun and turned his ire on her. “You have done this! You confuse our women and now you will corrupt our children.”
“Confuse them? How have I confused anyone?”
“They talk of things we do not speak of. You wish to share our private things with foreigners and strangers.”
“Private things? Menstruation is as normal as using the toilet. Why should women be ostracized from society for a normal function of our bodies? We only want to keep your women healthy.”
“You tell them to work. Teach them to leave the husbands and take control.”
“I haven’t told anyone to leave their husband. Navya left hers before I arrived in India, and with the help of her uncle who feared for her life. Meena never had a husband. How do you expect women with no husbands to provide for themselves? Do you wish them to starve to death?”
“They have fathers and uncles.”
Her blood began to boil. Who did this man think he was? “For now. They won’t always. And what happens to women who have no male relatives? You would see them starve to death? And their children? How should Navya support her daughter?”
“I won’t let you corrupt the children! I forbid it!”
He forbid it? Could he do that? She glanced at Mrs. Gupta, silently asking the question. The woman responded with a slight sideways jerk of her head, which Olivia could not interpret, but she didn’t appear the least bit alarmed or upset.
“You can’t forbid us from doing anything. You don’t even have children at this school. If you did, you could refuse for your children, and your children only, to attend this presentation but no one else’s. We have segregated the children who did not return a permission slip for whatever reason, but you do not get to stop us from teaching the other children.”
She had never talked back to a man, but this seemed like a good time to start. Adrenaline coursed through her, prompting a panic that spiked her heartrate and told her to run. But she stood her ground. She cut a glance to Mrs. Gupta again, afraid she had perhaps said too much. The school mistress’s countenance hadn’t changed. If anything, she seemed to be trying to suppress amusement.
“I will stop you!” the man insisted. “I will not allow you to change anything.”
She crossed her arms and frowned at him. “Why would you want things to stay the same? Is that what you want for your daughters? For Aditi? Do you want to risk her health? Watch her develop a terrible infection that could take her life or leave her unable to have children? Why would you want that?”
“I will stop you. You will see. The other men in the town are with me.”
She didn’t think he listened to her. “You should hope nothing ever happens to you. Your wife and daughters would be left with no way to survive other than begging. You better hope they never need to support themselves in the world you’re determined to maintain.” She felt a glimmer of victory at the shocked look on his face. “Aditi could be a doctor someday if you would allow her to return to school. And then you’d never have to worry about her. But have it your way. Leave her at home, uneducated, at the whim of a husband who may beat and disfigure her. You’re right, that’s much better.”
She nodded to Mrs. Gupta, turned, and left the office before he could see how badly her hands trembled. How dare he? Who did he think he was? And now she had images of a cowering Aditi, helpless to defend herself against an abusive husband, playing through her thoughts. Great. Tears pooled in her eyes. She wanted to shake some sense into that man but knew she had already overstepped her bounds, just by talking back to him.
She stalked down the hallway, breathing deeply and focusing on slowing her racing pulse, to the room where the other teachers had wrangled all the girls. This would not do. She could not get upset every time she became embroiled in a disagreement with a man.
She bumped into Meena in the hallway, a secret they’d kept under wraps for the children—their former teacher would present to them today. Mukesh and Navya had trained Meena completely at their tiny shop. Not surprising to anyone, the young woman picked it right up and mastered the tasks in no time. Olivia could see a marked change in Meena’s countenance too. Finally, the young woman had something productive to think about and focus on instead of the endless years ahead of her without the man she loved and their baby. Olivia still secretly and fervently hoped that Meena would one day make enough money to run off with the man and be able to live her own life.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
Meena nodded. Olivia situated her out of sight, went inside the room, and nodded to Tisha, who stood at the front.
“Okay, ladies, everyone calm down. Quiet, please. We have a surprise for you today. A guest teacher is here to talk with you.”
Everyone had agreed that this information needed to come from a trusted source, someone familiar to the children, an Indian woman from their own town. Meena was the best choice, hands down. Thank goodness her mother had managed to convince her father to allow her to work.
The class quieted and Tisha gestured to the door. Emma swung the camera to capture the entrance, and then panned over the desks to record the girls’ reactions. Most of them gasped as their faces broke into wide smiles. A few of the youngest in the group jumped from their chairs and ran to hug their former teacher. Olivia shared a look with Tisha and the other teachers. Yes, Meena had been the perfect choice for this.
Once everyone settled again, Meena began. “Today we are going to talk about something we do not normally talk about. But it is okay for us to talk about it. How many of you have heard of periods or your menstrual cycle?”
The older, high-school age girls broke into embarrassed grimaces, then pulled their lips in to stop smiling. They stared up at the ceiling or down at their desks. No one would look at the teacher anymore. Some of the younger girls reacted in much the same way, but a large number of them appeared baffled and looked to their older counterparts, observing their responses.
Those younger girls would be right on the cusp of starting their periods and were completely clueless. As uncomfortable as her own personal hygiene experience had been in elementary school, at least she had some instruction. And her mother had made sure to speak with her prior to “the talk” at school. She could only imagine how shocked and mortified these little girls must be when they started bleeding for no apparent reason, at least in their minds. What a horrible introduction to their cycle. They must suspect they were sick or dying. She was glad Meena would prepare them today, glad Mrs. Gupta had agreed, and glad for the parents who had given permission. Perhaps things could slowly start to change.