The Supreme Court has struck down the push for mandatory menstrual leave and predictably, the reactions have swung between outrage and relief. For some, it feels like a denial of women’s lived reality. For others, a pragmatic decision to avoid creating yet another reason to discriminate against women at work.But perhaps the court has, unintentionally, handed us something more valuable than a policy: a mirror. Because the real question was never: “Should women get menstrual leave?” The real question is: “Is India ready to design laws around biology without reinforcing bias?”Let’s begin with what should not be controversial. Menstruation is normal. It is not dirty, impure, or shameful. And yet, in India, it still carries the weight of centuries-old stigma. Girls are told not to enter temples. Women are made to feel like contaminants in their own homes. Pads are wrapped in newspaper but never condoms. In many parts of the country, access to basic menstrual hygiene is still a luxury. An overwhelming majority of Indian women do not use sanitary napkins. Girls drop out of school when they hit puberty because the infrastructure — and the mindset — fails them.So yes, the need is real. The pain is real.If cisgender men bled for five days a month, do we really believe this would be left to courtroom debates? Or would we have entire industries built around eliminating the inconvenience? Would we be arguing about productivity or would we be redesigning productivity itself?Instead, what we have are women quietly enduring. Popping Meftal in office bathrooms. Smiling through meetings. Apologising for a body that refuses to conform to corporate timelines. And yet, even as we acknowledge this, we must resist the temptation to romanticise policy. Because compassion is not the same as chivalry. And rights are not revenge.A blanket menstrual leave law does not operate in a vacuum. It enters a workplace already riddled with bias. Where women are still asked about marriage plans in job interviews. Where maternity and #MeToo are seen as a liability. Where the unspoken calculation is: “Will she be too much trouble?”In that context, mandated leave — even if well-intentioned — can quietly morph into a hiring bias. Not in policy, but in practice. Not on paper, but in perception.The Supreme Court’s concern, then, is not entirely misplaced. The fear is not about women taking leave. The fear is about women being denied opportunity because of it.But, rejecting a flawed solution cannot mean ignoring the problem. Because the answer is not to do nothing. It is to do better.We don’t need laws that pedestalise women into goddesses who must be protected, nor policies that reduce them to liabilities who must be managed. India has long oscillated between these extremes — Devi and Dayan, worship and witch-hunt. Both are forms of control. Neither offers dignity.What we need instead is a shift in design.Menstrual leave, if it exists, must sit within a broader, gender-neutral, biology-aware framework. One that recognises that not all women menstruate, and not all who menstruate are women. One that also expands the conversation to include men’s reproductive health — infertility, erectile dysfunction, prostate issues — because equality cannot be selective.More importantly, any such policy must be accompanied by ironclad anti-discrimination safeguards. You cannot give leave with one hand and take away opportunity with the other. If a woman is penalised in hiring, promotions, or appraisals for using menstrual leave, then the policy has failed.And then, we must measure what we create. Track the data. Does such leave improve retention, reduce burnout? Does it widen or narrow wage gaps? Rights should not be rolled back because they are inconvenient,  they must be refined because they are real.The apex court has drawn a line. But it has not closed the conversation. If anything, it has forced us to move beyond easy applause and predictable outrage, and into the harder work of designing policy that actually works.So, instead of asking why the court chose to strike this down, perhaps we should ask: Are we building workplaces where women can admit discomfort without fear?Are we investing in menstrual health infrastructure, from schools to offices?Are we challenging the stigma that makes a natural biological process feel like a liability?Sometimes, striking down a half-formed idea is not regression. It is a demand for something more thoughtful, inclusive, more real. Not for Devi. Not for Dayan. Just for people — bleeding and non-bleeding — trying to live and work with dignity in a country that still hasn’t quite learned how to say the word “period” without lowering its voice.— The writer is an acclaimed author