Hush-hushed behind closed doors for generations, the menarche is now finding its way into social media. Framed in slow motion, bathed in soft light, and set to celebratory music.
Known today as ‘Rithumathi’, the puberty ceremony seems to have re-emerged from the private corners of Kerala homes. What was once marked by silence, seclusion and secrecy is now being documented, shared, and debated.
Once known as Thirandukalyanam in certain regions, this ceremony has existed for generations across many parts of south India, marking the beginning of a girl’s transition into womanhood. The intimate biological milestone is turning into a conversation about tradition, visibility, and change.
What has changed now is not merely the tradition itself, but how it is perceived. This deeply personal rite has unfolded into cinematic reels, aesthetic visuals. The trend is a blend of ancient tradition and Millennial-Gen Z digital culture.
This shift has sparked mixed responses — cheer, curiosity and criticism.
‘A rite of passage’
For Seetha Lakshmi, founder of Puppet Media, who recently conducted her daughter’s puberty ceremony, the decision was not rooted in orthodoxy.
“There has never really been such a ceremony at our house before,” she says.
“Ours was an impromptu celebration. We felt it could become a space for everyone to come together and embrace womanhood. We did it in our own way. It felt like something that should be acknowledged in a girl’s stage of life, a rite of passage.”
Menstruation has, for long, been associated with stigma in Indian households. In contrast, the reframed visibility, Seetha says, is an effort to redefine menstruation itself. The idea is to replace shame with pride.
“Even today, many are timid to say the word menstruation openly,” she notes. “There was a time when people were shy about pregnancy. Today, we see pregnancy-revealing videos getting viral. Likewise, menstruation is a natural change in a woman’s body, not an illness.”
‘Meant to honour femininity’
Writer Sinu Joseph, co-founder of Mythri Speaks, who has explored menstruation rituals in her books, echoes the view. She argues that many ancient practices contradict the assumption that menstruation was always pushed into invisibility.
From caste-based customs to rituals followed in Bhagavathy temples in Kodungallur and Chengannur, menstruation rituals were once public affairs. They were attended by local communities and marked by feasting, dance and music.
“Menarche customs created space for the girl to be treated with special care — customary baths using herbs and flowers, along with food believed to support her physical well-being,” says Sinu.
At the same time, the girl was kept away from crowds in separate huts or rooms. According to Sinu’s research, this seclusion was not rooted in exclusion but in care, as the girl was considered emotionally and physically sensitive.
“Exemption from daily chores and routine labour,” she notes, “was meant to honour femininity.”
Over time, however, shifting social values reframed these practices as taboo. Notions of impurity entered. “Though domestic ceremonies faded, temple rituals linked to menstruation survived as folklore through practices such as Thalayattam,” Sinu notes.
Traditionally, the practice lacked visible participation from men. In contrast, fathers, brothers and male relatives appear in many of today’s reels, feeding sweets to the girl or standing by her side.
This shift signals a more inclusive understanding, challenging the long-held belief that menstruation should be handled by women alone.
‘Celebration of her vitality’
Akhila S from Alappuzha, who recently shared her younger sister’s puberty ceremony online, says the celebration was meant to ensure the transition was met with support rather than secrecy. “We wanted to make her feel blessed by this change in her life — not as a burden,” she says.
While her sister was initially shy, family presence made a difference. “We explained to her that it’s not only about dress or gold but a celebration of her health and vitality,” says Akhila.
As the trend gains traction, comment sections reveal a cultural divide. Critics called the ritual unnecessary. Others raise concerns around privacy, digital consent and whether a minor’s biological milestone should be shared online. “Keeping it private often means keeping it secret,” Akhila observes. “The secrecy is where shame begins.”
The conversation has crossed regional boundaries. Viewers from Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh frequently comment on these reels, sharing insights from similar customs such as ‘Manjal Neerattu Vizha’.
‘Not a evolved society yet’
Parallelly, the trend has opened up an event-management dimension as well.
Makeup artist Amisha Suresh, who worked on her cousin’s ceremony, believes the approach should remain age-appropriate. “I hope it reminds her that she was celebrated with grace and dignity. That she was always supported by her family.”
Psychiatrist Arun B Nair echoes the view, drawing attention to the possible privacy infringements. “Yes, positives exist, especially in sending the message that menstruation is normal and nothing to be ashamed of. In a normal, evolved society, this is what we will see,” he says.
“However, ours is not a fully evolved society yet. Boys in the girl’s school might tease or make objectifying comments. In the virtual world, there may be vulgar or scary comments and online stalking. Hence, consistent and healthy support from the family is vital.”
Dr Arun also stresses on avoiding ideas of fertility, childbearing, and motherhood from the conversations surrounding the menstruation of a minor girl.
“A woman’s identity is not limited to her ability to be a mother, nor is it about her body parts. Celebrations should be beyond such aspects,” he says.
Whether viewed as empowerment or excess, the Rithumathi trend mirrors a society in transition. And the intent appears clear — ‘those days’ are not something to be hushed-up. The word is menstruation. Say it out aloud.
With inputs from
Krishna P S & Aparna Nair