How a “Revolutionary” Book About Women’s Bodies Took on the Patriarchy

By Melita Clarice

09 NOV 2024

Picture this: it’s the 1980s in rural India, a time when discussing women’s bodies, let alone their rights over them, is practically taboo. Then along comes Shareer Ki Jaankari, or as it’s affectionately called, the Lal Kitaab (the Red Book). A bright, unapologetic manual that dives into everything from menstruation to pleasure, created with women, by women, and for women.

Behind this revolutionary book is Indira Pancholi, feminist extraordinaire and founder of the Mahila Jan Adhikar Samiti (MJAS). She’s been at the forefront of fighting for women’s rights in India for over 25 years and has one wild story about the journey of this book.


How the Shareer ki Jaankari Began? It’s Because of a Famine. In 1986, when rural India was hit with a famine, the government launched the Mahila Vikas Karyakram (MVK) to bring relief to villages and, interestingly, spread awareness about women’s health. Indira joined the IDARA wing of the program, working on public health campaigns for women. Now, here’s the twist! she and her team quickly realized the official pamphlets and workshops weren’t resonating with rural women at all. The language was too technical, the images too sterile, it was all too state sponsored.


After talking to women, Indira’s team had a big aha moment. If the goal was to talk about women’s health and sexuality, why not make a book with the women, one that actually reflected their lives? And so, the idea of Shareer Ki Jaankari was born. The team held workshops, asked women how they’d explain these topics in their own words, and invited them to create the book’s illustrations. They wanted something down-to-earth and familiar, a book that wouldn’t just talk at women but would feel like a conversation with them.


Shareer Ki Jaankari wasn’t just an average biology textbook. It covered anatomy, yes, but also touched on things like sexual pleasure, consent, and body autonomy. One big question guided the content, what do women want to know?


The illustrations were influenced by Rajasthani art, with simple, bold colors that made the book feel lively and approachable. The team even added flaps that lifted to reveal layers beneath the surface, an idea that came from women themselves, who suggested that illustrations should show what’s under a ghagra. 


The first draft of Shareer Ki Jaankari got mixed reviews. The women who’d contributed actually rejected the book initially, saying the images of naked women made them uncomfortable. Their reaction? “Ghagras and dupattas, please!” And so, the flaps were born visual layers that let readers “lift” the skirts to explore women’s anatomy without making anyone feel uncomfortable. The result was brilliant. It turned the book into something that was interactive, a book that women actually enjoyed using and showing each other. When the redesigned book was unveiled, the women loved it, squealing with delight over its “peek-a-boo” approach.


But there was a hitch. The State wasn’t thrilled. Shareer Ki Jaankari talked about topics like reproductive choices, sexual pleasure, and even suggested that women could decide how many kids they wanted or even whether to have them at all. These ideas weren’t just radical; they were downright dangerous in the eyes of the establishment. So, when the first copies were distributed, officials quickly swooped in, confiscated them, and to Indira’s horror—burned them. For a while, it looked like the Lal Kitaab might be lost forever.


But, this book was not going down without a fight. Some activists left the organization and took Shareer ki Jankaari to Kali for Women (now Zubaan), a feminist publishing house that embraced it. Soon, Kali reprinted and distributed thousands of copies. Eventually, the book came full circle. When Indira returned to the same area years later, she found it being used as training material for anganwadi workers! It turned out that UNICEF had distributed around 10,000 copies in the region. From being burned by authorities to becoming standard material, Shareer Ki Jaankari had outwitted the system itself.

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Activist Indira Pancholi, Founder of Shaeer ki Jankaari

Interestingly, some men also found themselves curious about Shareer Ki Jaankari. Men often hesitated to openly discuss topics related to women’s pleasure, and women faced suspicions about “where they’d learned such things.” But Shareer ki Jaankari started quiet conversations. Women brought the book home and used it as a tool to help husbands understand their bodies and needs. In workshops, if men were around, they’d listen in quietly, allowing women to subtly communicate about consent, pleasure, and health rights.


Indira reflects that the Lal Kitaab was ahead of its time and remains a powerful symbol of community-led education. While it may not have explicitly covered issues like queer or transgender identities, it created a foundational space for women to discuss their lives and bodies, something almost unheard of at the time.


Today, she observes, there’s an information overload but often a lack of the kind of community that a book like Shareer ki Jaankari sparked. She believes that feminist work should continue to connect generations and bring together issues across age groups—child rights, women’s rights, and more—under one broad push for equality. After all, the challenges we face from patriarchal norms to state policies are still big and interconnected.


The Shareer ki Jaankari was a bridge between state programs, feminist ideals, and rural women’s everyday lives. Indira’s journey with the Lal Kitaab is a reminder that lasting change often starts with a simple question: “What do women want?” And sometimes, the most revolutionary answers are found in the stories we tell each other, hidden under a flap, waiting to be uncovered.