Periods aren’t an excuse — But what if they ruin your exams?
March 21st was supposed to be the culmination of days of relentless preparation. Instead, it became one of the most painful memories I carry.
That morning, I got my period. It wasn’t unexpected — I had been anticipating it and at first, everything seemed manageable. On my way to the exam center, I felt normal. Even while sitting in my seat, waiting for the paper to begin, I didn’t feel anything out of place.
But the moment the bell rang and the question papers were distributed, everything shifted. My stomach began twisting in waves of pain, and a sharp throb pulsed through my head. I clutched my forehead, trying to stay composed. A teacher noticed and asked what was wrong, but I couldn’t answer the words just wouldn’t come.
There were two invigilators in the room, a male and a female. I turned to the female teacher and asked, quietly, if I could go to the washroom. The confused stares from my classmates didn’t help the exam had just started, and I was already asking to leave. Still, she allowed me to go and accompanied me, as per the exam rules.
The corridor felt endless. My stomach churned violently, and before I could reach the washroom, I threw up right there, on the floor.
I could feel the judgment in the glances of teachers stepping out of their classes. But the teacher with me stayed kind. She gently patted my back and said, “It’s totally fine.” In the washroom, I cleaned myself up as best I could. A staffroom teacher gave me glucose and a medicine, and I told myself I can still do this.
But the universe had other plans. I felt the nausea again. I rushed out mid-exam and vomited in the same spot. This time, tears welled up. The exam was slipping away from me and I hadn’t even started writing.
They made me sit in the staffroom and assured me that I would be given extra time. That promise gave me hope. I returned to the classroom and began writing slowly, trying to catch up while dealing with the lingering pain. But then came the second blow: the Physics paper of 2025 turned out to be one of the toughest papers ever. You can look it up many students barely managed to score even single digits out of 70.
Still, I wrote. I kept going. I didn’t give up.
When the final bell rang, I still had unanswered questions, including the entire MCQ section as I thought I will complete it in last and complete the subjective first. My hand trembled. Tears flowed again this time not from pain, but from the frustration of being robbed of time I was promised. A teacher came up to me and said, “You have five minutes to complete it.”
Five minutes? They were taking my paper — just like that.
They snatched the sheet away, and that was it.
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Afterward, I cried. For three hours straight. I couldn’t stop.
When my mother came to pick me up, the first thing she asked was, “How many questions did you attempt?”
Not “How are you?”
Not “Are you okay, baby?”
Not “I’m proud of you for trying.”
Just — how many questions?
That question shattered me more than the exam ever could.
What makes it worse is that the system doesn’t care.
In our country, there are no provisions for menstrual leave during board exams. No option to reschedule. No emergency backup for girls who are physically incapacitated by something as natural and regular as menstruation. You’re either fit to sit and write, or you lose your chance.
But periods can be debilitating — physically, mentally, and emotionally. Some girls faint. Some vomit. Some can barely sit upright. Yet the system expects us to perform like machines, clocking in at the same time and churning out answers, regardless of what our bodies are going through.
How is that fair? How is that humane?
We keep saying “menstruation is normal,” yet no policies reflect that understanding. If a student breaks a bone, they’re allowed to write the exam later. But if a girl is doubled over in cramps, bleeding heavily, or even throwing up — she has to “power through.”
We’re taught to hide it. Swallow it. Toughen up. And that silence, that invisibility — it costs us. Marks. Confidence. Dignity.
To anyone who’s ever had to fight through their pain in silence I see you.
Periods, mental breakdowns, exam pressure none of it gets the space it deserves in systems built only for performance, not humanity.
But your story matters. So does mine.
