The book Everything Men Know About Women, often credited to Dr. Alan Francis, is a legendary piece of satire and a staple of novelty gift shops. Its premise is simple yet biting: the cover and the publisher’s description promise a "comprehensive guide" based on "years of research and thousands of interviews." However, the reader who opens the book finds roughly 128 completely blank pages. Over the years, "Anniversary Editions" have been released, ironically claiming to be "fully revised and updated," which in practice merely involves adding more blank pages. While the book has sold over a million copies as a gag gift, its punchline carries a stinging, unintended truth when applied to the history of Indian governance. For decades, the male-dominated spheres of law-making, administration, and even constitutional interpretation have operated as if those blank pages were an actual manual for policy regarding women’s biological realities.
The recent landmark judgment by the Supreme Court in Dr. Jaya Thakur v. Government of India (2026) has finally shattered this silence. In a profound exercise of judicial empathy and constitutional duty, the court exposed how the state and society have fundamentally failed to uphold India’s dignitarian Constitution by overlooking the daily, systemic ordeal of menstruating girl children.
A multiplier right denied
In a powerful rebuke of systemic neglect, the Division Bench comprising Justice J.B. Pardiwala and Justice R. Mahadevan held that the right to education is a "multiplier right." It is not a standalone guarantee but a gateway through which all other human rights—liberty, equality, and dignity—are accessed. The court observed that for millions of girls, this gateway is barred not by a lack of intellect or ambition, but by the biology of their bodies—or rather, by the state’s historic failure to accommodate that biology.
The court explicitly linked the Right to Life under Article 21 to menstrual health. It noted that "menstrual poverty"—the financial inability to afford sanitary products—combined with a lack of gender-segregated toilets creates a "two-fold disadvantage." The court’s assessment delved into the grim reality of school life in India, identifying two primary dimensions of the crisis: chronic absenteeism and complete dropouts. When a girl cannot manage her period with dignity, she is effectively excluded from the educational system.
This systemic failure is often rooted in bureaucratic inertia and fiscal mismanagement. As the Human Rights Watch 2017 Report, Understanding Menstrual Hygiene Management & Human Rights, poignantly observes: "In many developing countries, schools lack funds to adequately maintain water, sanitation and hygiene (WASH) facilities, in part because budgets are often too low. However, it is not just the funding itself that matters, but the process through which schools receive it... With a growing number of students from year to year, schools then do not receive the funds they are, in principle, entitled to. Then, at the local level, school administrators must make difficult decisions... Often, grounds and building maintenance, particularly WASH, suffer as a result. While this affects all students, girls will have difficulty managing their menstruation at school when WASH facilities are inadequate, and they may miss class during that time."
The historical oversight
It is a startling realization that the struggle for menstrual dignity has been invisible even within the very documents designed to liberate women. The Women’s Charter of Rights and Duties (1946), a visionary document proclaimed by the All India Women’s Conference, laid the groundwork for gender equality in independent India but remained silent on the biological realities of menstruation. Similarly, the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), often hailed as the international bill of rights for women, fundamentally omitted any explicit mention of menstrual rights or hygiene management.
This silence across both national and international historical frameworks underscores a deep-seated societal taboo—where even the most progressive feminist pioneers of the time could not, or did not, articulate that the right to a dignified life is inextricably linked to the biological cycle of the female body. By overlooking this day-to-day ordeal, these charters inadvertently left a "blank page" where the fundamental right to menstrual health should have been enshrined.
The court’s directions
The court’s directions in the Jaya Thakur case provide a granular roadmap for rectifying this historical wrong. The bench moved beyond mere rhetoric to issue a continuing mandamus, ensuring that the state remains under the court's supervision until compliance is achieved. The court directed that all states and Union territories must ensure every school is provided with functional, gender-segregated toilets with usable water connectivity. Crucially, these must be designed to ensure privacy and accessibility, particularly catering to children with disabilities. The court recognized that a toilet without water or a door is not a facility, but an indignity.
In a major victory against period poverty, the court mandated the provision of oxo-biodegradable sanitary napkins manufactured in compliance with ASTM D-6954 standards, free of cost. These must be readily accessible within toilet premises through vending machines. Furthermore, schools must establish Menstrual Hygiene Management (MHM) corners equipped with spare uniforms, innerwear, and disposable bags to address emergencies.
Recognizing the environmental and hygienic impact of menstrual waste, the court ordered safe, hygienic, and environmentally compliant disposal mechanisms. Perhaps most importantly, it addressed the "stigma and taboo" by directing NCERT and SCERT to incorporate gender-responsive curricula on menstruation, puberty, and health concerns like PCOS and PCOD.
The judgment dedicated a significant section to the role of men in menstruation. The bench noted that menstruation should no longer be a topic discussed in "hushed whispers." When male teachers are unsensitized and male students are left ignorant, the result is a culture of shame and harassment that drives girls out of the classroom. The court stated: “Time is over ripe that we recognize menstrual health as a shared responsibility rather than a woman’s issue... When menstruation is discussed openly in schools, it ceases to be a source of shame. It is recognized as what it is, a biological fact.”
To ensure these directions do not become dead letters, the court empowered the District Education Officer (DEO) to conduct mandatory annual inspections. These inspections must include anonymous feedback from students via surveys. This ensures that transparency and accountability are fixed on both the school and the administration. The NCPCR and SCPCR have been requested to oversee the implementation, with the power to take legal steps in case of non-compliance.
From taboo to triumph
For too long, the Indian state acted like the buyer of Dr. Alan Francis’s book—laughing off the "mystery" of women while ignoring the tangible suffering caused by that ignorance. By declaring that the "fault is not hers," the Supreme Court has extended a hand to every girl who once perceived her own body as a burden or a barrier to her dreams.
This legal victory echoes the profound emotional core of the 2018 film Pad Man. Inspired by the life of Arunachalam Muruganantham, the film portrays the harrowing journey of a man who was ostracized by his village and abandoned by his family simply because he wanted to provide a hygienic solution for women. In his broken English, the protagonist Laxmikant Chauhan delivers a speech that mirrors the spirit of the Jaya Thakur judgment: "Big men, strong men, not making country strong. Women strong, mother strong, sister strong, then country strong."
He spoke of a world where a woman’s period shouldn't cost her her education or her life. Laxmi's journey was not just about a cotton pad; it was about the right to walk with one's head held high. Just as Laxmikant fought against the "blank pages" of a society that preferred silence over safety, the Supreme Court has now used the pen of the Constitution to fill those pages with the ink of justice. The "dignity" promised in our Preamble is no longer a hollow word; it is now a functional toilet, a free sanitary pad, and a classroom where a girl can raise her hand without fear. The era of the blank page is over; the era of menstrual health as a fundamental right has begun.
(The author is Deputy Law Secretary to the government of Kerala and author of The Supreme Codex: A Citizen’s Anxieties and Aspirations on the Indian Constitution)