The Story of Mrs. and Her Period
Recently, I watched the much-discussed Bollywood film - Mrs., a remake of The Great Indian Kitchen, directed by Arati Kadav and featuring Sanya Malhotra as a newlywed woman confronting deeply rooted patriarchal traditions. This movie is quite epic in terms of the issue it tackles and how it handles it. It highlights a harsh reality—despite India’s progress, menstruation is still shrouded in silence and superstition.
Mrs. revolves around the life of a young woman who marries into a seemingly educated and modern family. However, beneath the polished exterior lies a rigidly orthodox household where women are confined to the kitchen, treated as little more than glorified domestic help. The film brilliantly showcases how these so-called “values” are passed down through generations, with older women having grown so accustomed to them that they don’t even question their subservient roles anymore.
Ironically, the Mr. in the film—the husband of Mrs.—is a doctor, an expert in the female anatomy. It made me wonder: What did his medical education teach him about a woman’s reproductive system? Because when it comes to his own wife, he still sees her as impure during her period and doesn’t allow her to enter the kitchen.
The persistence of such regressive beliefs in our social fabric is disturbing. Even a male gynaecologist, bound by science and logic, succumbs to age-old taboos within his own household.
The only silver lining? In a deeply ironic twist, the only time Mrs. gets a break from the relentless cycle of cooking, cleaning, and serving male family members is when she is on her period. But should rest come at the cost of being treated as untouchable?
But Mrs. is more than just a mirror—it’s a call to action. It forces us to rethink narratives around purity and cleanliness, urging society to embrace menstruation as a natural and empowering part of life. True empowerment can only happen when women are freed from the constraints of outdated beliefs.
The film’s unflinching portrayal of menstrual taboos compels us to acknowledge the disconnect between India’s modern aspirations and its deeply ingrained cultural practices. We cannot claim progress while half the population is still made to feel ashamed of their own biology.
This is the kind of film that should be watched with your family. And if they feel uncomfortable with it, then perhaps that’s the best time to start a much-needed discussion. Mrs. has undoubtedly raised important questions, sparking conversations that need to happen. But more than just discussion, we need transformation. I hope this film pushes Indian men to step into a woman’s shoes—not just as an observer, but as a true partner—so they can treat her with the respect, dignity, and equality she deserves.
Bela Sharma
Manager, Communications
Sulabh International