My tolerance for masculinist behaviour shrinks considerably when I'm PMSing. I can't help it. I try to be more patient. I try to talk myself into being more compassionate, to muster an understanding of the fragility that lurks behind the toxicity. I've managed to keep my rage more or less in check. But I am still easily triggered by the behaviours of men who are patriarchally conditioned and who so obviously flaunt their assumed authority. Unfortunately, in India, these triggers are omnipresent because of the over-abundance of men in public and private places. Under normal circumstances, I am able to negotiate between them and my feminist impulse to smash patriarchy. But in my pre-menstrual phase, when my hormones are out of whack, I sometimes feel both anger and a sense of defeat. If I'm on my own, I can let it stew, but if I have any inkling of an available audience, I cannot help but rant compulsively.

Last Friday I was a mess of hormones and fatigue. I woke up early, and hungry, and I'd conveniently forgotten I had promised my partner I'd take him to see Kali at the Kalighat temple. All I wanted then was hot tea and breakfast, and since these weren't available, I was preparing for us to go out in search of them when my partner glimpsed at the length of my dress and wondered if it wasn't inappropriate for a temple. I groaned a little. I wasn't in the right frame of mind, but knowing that the place can be a tourist trap if you look clueless enough, I thought it would be best to accompany him. He's also been so wonderful and supportive as a companion on my fieldwork trip that I wanted, for a change, to do something he really wanted to do. So I changed into a sari, and we set off together.