‘Why Are They Confined to Huts for Menstruating?’: Meet the Changemakers Ending Period Stigma in Gadchiroli

Pinky went silent when asked, “Do you have access to sanitary pads?”

Having never used one, she didn’t know what they were. She explained to Sunita Shivkumar of the Mumbai-based NGO Making The Difference — which, in 2024, was surveying Maharashtra’s Gadchiroli tribal belt to understand the community’s challenges — that she used cloth to manage her menstrual bleeding.

Sunita felt a momentary relief — at least cloth was more hygienic than the leaves and ash that the older women of the tribe used. But her relief was short-lived.

Pinky revealed that for most periods, she used the same cloth for days, changing it only if her husband managed to bring fresh ones and leave them outside the kurma ghar, where she and other menstruating women were confined.

Same with food. If someone brought it, they ate. If not, they went hungry.

These parables are grounded in the traditions that persist in tribal pockets of Maharashtra, especially among Gadchiroli’s Gond and Madiya communities. Periods are still seen as a sin, menstruation as ungodly. And the punishment is banishment to the kurma ghars — cramped, thatched huts on the village fringes. These dingy dwellings lack doors, windows, or sanitation. Harsh winds, cold, rain, scorpions, snakes, and wild dogs move in and out as they please.

Deepak Vishwakarma, founder of Making The Difference NGO, found it unthinkable that this inhumanity was unfolding just a 13-hour drive from Mumbai. These tribes, shielded from the impact of modernity, continued to exist, their lives dictated by archaic patriarchal norms.

Pinky shares, “There was no washroom in the hut. We had to walk for a while to reach it. But I was scared to go alone at night, so I would try to hold it until morning.” Hearing the women’s concerns prompted Deepak to decide to revamp one of the kurma ghars in Gadchiroli.

Kurma Ghars: Why menstrual seclusion persists despite legal ban

Think of the kurma ghar as a time warp of a place — its structure, concept and norms harken back to a misogynistic mindset. That something like this is living and breathing in the 21st century is unimaginable.

A cross-sectional study of 300 women in Gadchiroli, Maharashtra, assessing menstrual health awareness, hygiene product use, and the prevalence of menstrual seclusion, found that 67 percent of participants expressed a strong aversion to staying in the kurma ghar during their periods. The main reasons cited were poor sanitation and the lack of basic amenities.

One of the first people to take cognisance of the dehumanising traditions was Dr Dilip Barsagade, president and executive director at SPARSH (Society of People’s Action in Rural Services and Health), which, in 2014, blew the whistle on the kurma ghar, alerting the National Human Rights Commission to them.

The team visited 223 gaokors in tribal areas and found that nearly 98 percent lacked a proper bed, electricity and other basic amenities.

In 2015, the National Human Rights Commission directed the Maharashtra Government to put an end to this practice, stating that gaokor was a serious violation of the human rights of women and must be eradicated.

A letter from the NHRC to the State noted that the commission “further expects that the Government should also consider that such a type of activity be treated as a cognisable and punishable offence as gaokor custom cannot be accepted at the present time in a civilised society and the women should not have to undergo such a type of punishment for none of their fault.”

But, despite it being outlawed, the practice of kurma ghar still persists. Women continue to be confined to the edgy living setups.

Why?

The answer lies in Pinky’s confession.

“It is our customs. We cannot go against our religious traditions,” she explains.

But adhering to customs means living in constant survival mode. As Poornima Javardhan, one of the tribal women, told The Guardian, “During the rainy season, it is all the more difficult to stay in a gaokor because water comes inside and sometimes the roof leaks.”

The huts lack kitchens, as menstruating women aren’t allowed to cook. A few thick bedsheets strewn on the floor double as beds. This reality plays out 365 days a year, as women check into and out of the kurma ghar, each resigning herself to a harrowing stay.

When Making The Difference NGO entered the village, Deepak learnt of the other cruelties that befall the women. “The washroom is a walk away from the kurma ghar. If a woman, who is making her way to the toilet, crosses a man’s path, she is made to live in the kurma ghar for another month as punishment.”

Young girls who are relegated to the kurma ghar end up missing school.

The kurma ghars reinforce toxic patriarchy. But these traditions cannot be done away with, as they find themselves intrinsically woven into the fabric of these tribes’ existence. The question is how tradition can be preserved while assuring women a quiet dignity in their periods.

Effecting positive change across Gadchiroli

Deepak and his team at Making The Difference NGO have revamped a kurma ghar in Gadchiroli. This, Deepak explains, is part of their project Lajja, which focuses on awareness around menstruation.

Through ‘Menstrupedia’ — a guidebook on menstrual hygiene, awareness sessions, distribution of hygiene kits, and a women’s helpline for period-related concerns — they have reached over 30,000 girls and women.

The revamped kurma ghar is currently benefiting 35 women. Deepak shares, “It includes a room with six beds, a kitchen garden, a yoga room, a television and access to medical facilities.” There is also skill training that is offered to the women here. Gardening, sewing, etc are taught to them to ensure that they can keep themselves occupied during their time at the kurma ghar.

Dilip Barsagade’s SPARSH has worked to improve the living conditions at kurma ghars by ensuring that the huts have proper roofs, bathrooms with doors, and electricity connections. As he shared with The Indian Express, the NGO also focused on sensitising male community members.

“It seemed impossible at first, but through honest dialogue, mindsets began to shift. Today, all the women stay together, menstruating or not. The stigma is slowly fading. Some still spend the day at the centre but return home at night. The space is now used for regular meetings and has become a symbol of ownership and pride," he said. 

Then there’s the Mumbai-based charity, Kherwadi Social Welfare Association, which is replacing the mostly dilapidated huts with modern resting homes that have beds, indoor toilets, running water and solar panels for electricity.

These NGOs, through their initiatives, are reinventing the wheel of stereotypes, showing that tradition does not have to come at the expense of women’s safety and comfort. 

Edited by Pranita Bhat, All pictures courtesy Making The Difference NGO

Sources

'End 'Gaokor' Practice, Rights Panel Tells Maharashtra': by PTI, Published on 14 September 2015.

'Banished for menstruating: the Indian women isolated while they bleed', Published in The Guardian in 2016.

'Cultural taboos and menstrual health: analysing practices in Gadchiroli’s Kurma Ghar (period huts) in Maharashtra', Published in Discover Public Health on 14 April 2025. 

'One roof for all: Tribal women in Gadchiroli’s Sitatola join hands to end menstrual stigma': by Ankita Deshkar, Published on 11 July 2025.