The Value Of Living Red

I belong to a conservative family where a female can raise her voice only on maid to satisfy the taste bud of male superiority complex. While growing up I never had a privilege to make a choice of my own. My father was the author of my fate but sometimes here and there my mother tried editing my life as much as she could. Expressing myself in words was not my cup of tea as I have never had a real talk with anyone who knows the taste of cutting chai is incomplete without a heartfelt conversation about absolutely nothing. So, I became friends with canvas and colors to get rid of meaningless monologues of human beings and paint a story of my life through a magic brush. I kept creating stories on canvas but it was meaningless. I was stuck in my sad canvas as a dead portrait waiting to be alive.

I was constantly contemplating about the missing piece of the puzzle to make sense of my existence. But with passing time, I chose to accept the taste of this monochromatic life to keep living; And I kept living until I found my heartbeat in a red scarf worn by a mannequin in a shopping complex. I could see myself wearing that red scarf and live my whole life in a single breath. 

I kept looking at that red scarf the way someone looks at their first crush and trust me I never felt that beautiful inside. And from that very moment, Red became my favorite color; Red dress, Red lipstick, Red nail polish, and everything I could choose for myself behind the curtain. In fact, most of my paintings were used to blush red those days so am I. 

I was happy and walking on the red carpet of my dreams being unaware of what's coming next. My fairyland was no longer magnificent, the clouds of bleak fate took all over the sky. I heard that my father wanted me to get married as soon as possible as I was taking steps towards adolescence and clearly I didn't have anything to say or claim the life seemed I borrowed from my father unfortunately.

I was a minor but mature enough to differentiate freedom and destiny yet somewhere I was happy and hopeful that I could paint my life as red as I want. I got married with someone whom my father chose for me just like him. I knew there is only one thing that belongs to me "my love for red" but still I was trying to make sense of everything and meanwhile in the process of decoding life I found another revolutionary red of my life but this time it wasn't that pleasant like before rather painful, horrifying, unclear to me. I was sensing an awkward moment of weakness and sickness; I reached out to my mother and asked about it but she chose to stay quiet by saying, "Its normal, no big deal, happens to every girl". She chose to see a woman in her innocent daughter who needed her helping hand that moment. She believed in my maturity so much that she forgot to be a mother. I went with hope and came back with my demon. 

Something changed in me and I wasn't myself, I started hating that red thing. I was in pain and no one was there to calm the heat of chaos inside my mind. I became ignorant and careless all the time, reckless and furious, suppressing my genuine anger, living my life hating red, everything I loved about red turned into massive hatred.

A month all of a sudden I realized that I am not in that pain and can't see the red torturing me because I missed it. It was a winning moment for me, another level of happiness, the happiness continued for a while until I lost something very precious in my ignorance and false beliefs; I came to know that I had a miscarriage and what does that mean to a woman I had no idea before. That was my fate; My mother forgot to edit my life this time. I wish she did!

I was shattered and devastated but realized that it's not red to blame this time, it's me. It's my fault that I overlooked myself and wasted so much of my life hating this. That day I promised myself to value Red; losing such amount of red made me see the actual importance and privilege of red in a woman's life. The pain to gain another life. All this while I was angry with me but now I was hopeful and knew that this is not the end and few years later I gave birth to my daughter, my purpose of living, my pursuit of happiness. A tiny source of hope in my dark world.

And today I am happy to share the true value of red by giving a piece of protection with a hand of friendship to my daughter in her first menstruation. That's what a mother and a woman does. And I can proudly say "Dear Red I have paid my long due debt today"! I am free now because I know I am the living red. We all are !!!

Through this story, I would like to urge each and everyone to talk about Menstruation and spread awareness.There are many girls/women out there who want to share their story of red. It's not a taboo anymore; Its a gift to womankind. Let's Stand for Red that adds value to the living. We all are living red!

Let the red flow its way ....!