What began as a painful period led Geeta Solanki to a simple cloth pad — and a powerful idea. Today, her social enterprise Unipads is helping rural women across India reclaim dignity, livelihood, and the right to speak openly about periods.
Geeta was curled up in pain, the all-too-familiar ache in her lower body making everything feel unbearable. She was dealing with a Bartholin’s cyst — a painful swelling that forms near the vaginal opening when a tiny gland gets blocked. It can cause a lump so sore that even walking, sitting, or wearing underwear feels like sandpaper against skin. Then, as if things couldn’t get worse, her period started.
She reached for a pad, hoping to get through it, but the thin plastic scraped against her already sore skin, each step sending a sting through her body. “I can’t use this, I just can’t,” she cried out.
Her mother walked in, wordless at first, watching her daughter struggle. Then she quietly handed her a soft cotton cloth. “Try this instead,” she said.
Geeta frowned. “This is gross; it will give me an infection.” But her mother just looked at her, calm and certain. “I’ve used this all my life, and so has your grandmother. We’ve never gotten infected.”
Too drained to argue, Geeta tried it. And in that small act of surrender, something shifted. The cloth was gentle. The rashes didn’t come. The pain eased, even just a little.
That moment — simple, quiet, and unexpected — stayed with her. What began as an act of care between mother and daughter would later spark something far bigger: a movement to change how women across rural India experience menstruation.
‘We couldn’t afford pads unless it was a wedding’
Geeta Solanki spent her childhood in Veraval, a coastal town in Gujarat’s Saurashtra region. Like most others in the area, her family was steeped in agriculture. Among the many conversations shared in her extended household, one recurring theme stuck with her: the sheer inconvenience and indignity that came with managing periods in rural India.
Her cousins often spoke about how disposable pads were too expensive to use daily. They were saved for special occasions like weddings or long journeys. On regular days, women had no choice but to stretch a single pad across an entire day, leading to discomfort, frequent infections, and painful rashes.
These memories lingered. After her own experience with using cloth in place of a pad and years of working as a childbirth educator, Geeta’s curiosity grew stronger. She began researching cloth pads, tested one available on the market, and loved it. Slowly, an idea began to take shape—a pad that would be sustainable, affordable, and rooted in dignity.
Together with her sister, Kajal Khava, and brother-in-law, Kishor Khava, she co-founded ‘Unipads’, a startup committed not just to menstrual hygiene but to empowering the very women the product was built for.
Creatively plugging in period talk among rural women
Starting a sanitary pad company in Mota Vadiya, a traditional, agriculture-reliant village, wasn’t easy. None of the founders had any background in manufacturing. And while women in the village were open to working, the taboo around menstruation meant their husbands were not.
So the team got creative.
They invited local women to attend a month-long paid tailoring class, where they would learn basic stitching techniques under the guidance of a tailoring master. The classes were held in the village itself — a decision that made it easier for families to agree.
“Many of these women had never earned money before,” said Geeta. “It helped them see that income didn’t have to come from labouring under the harsh sun — it could come from something skill-based, something they could take pride in.”
What made those classes different wasn’t just the tailoring lessons. It was the conversations that began to unfold — about periods, discomfort, shame, and things they’d never had the space to talk about. In between learning how to thread a needle or cut fabric, the women slowly began opening up. For many, it was the first time anyone had asked them what managing a period really felt like.
By the end of the month, Geeta told them about Unipads. She didn’t give a speech or make big promises. She simply said that a small production unit would start the next day, and that if anyone was interested, they could show up.
The next morning, 11 out of the 15 women returned. Quietly, without fanfare, they took their places at the machines. That small group became the heart of Unipads. Today, that number has grown to 186 women — each of them bringing skill, strength, and pride into the work they do every day.
How a pad sparked a chain of confidence
The first pilot was conducted with 650 women in 2017, and after nearly a year of trials and testing, the company was officially launched in 2018. A typical Unipad kit contains four pads and a leakproof bag. The top layer of the pad is made of soft fleece that quickly absorbs moisture, followed by two layers of absorbent material similar to those used in towels.
The bottom layer is laminated with less than two percent PUL material, which ensures it remains leakproof. Instead of adhesive wings like regular pads, each pad can be secured to the underwear with two buttons beneath — a thoughtful and practical finishing touch.
Once the product was ready, Geeta and her team first shared it with their immediate network. Friends, relatives, and neighbours tried the pads and loved them. Many began recommending them to others, and some even started selling them.
That’s how the ‘Kalyani’ network was born — village-level women who now act as resellers of Unipads, earning commissions for every pack sold.
For women in Veraval, just getting a sanitary pad used to mean travelling to another town. So when they began selling Unipads in their own neighbourhoods, it felt like more than just work — it was freedom. They weren’t just looking after their own needs anymore. They were helping friends, neighbours, even strangers feel seen and supported. Today, that small start has grown into a network of over 190 Kalyanis across Gujarat — each playing a powerful role in changing how their communities talk about periods.
But selling pads was only one part of the journey. Geeta and her team made sure these women had the tools to speak with confidence. They trained the Kalyanis not only in product knowledge but also in menstrual health — knowledge that many of them had never received growing up.
“Only after joining Unipads did I actually understand the biological process behind menstruation,” says Manisha, a Kalyani from Veraval. “Even in school, they skipped that part.”
For Manisha, the transformation went far beyond information. Once confined to her home, she now travels to schools and community spaces to hold menstrual hygiene sessions. “I go to schools just after my classes end. I ask the principal if I can speak to the girls for a few minutes,” she shares. “And almost always, they say yes.”
With each session, her confidence grows. So does her pride. “This morning, my husband asked me for Rs 1,000, and I told him — I can give you Rs 2,500 also,” she adds with a smile.
‘Don’t sit here, don’t touch that’: Breaking the stigma
But the journey isn’t smooth for everyone. For many Kalyanis, stepping into the role of a menstrual health educator means pushing back against years of silence—and sometimes, direct resistance from their own families. Nidhi, the Kalyani network coordinator, recalls how even the idea of selling pads or talking openly about periods is difficult for some women to embrace. “Selling pads? Talking about periods? For many husbands and elders, it was unacceptable,” she says.
She explains where that discomfort begins. “From the time girls are small, they’re told: ‘Don’t sit here,’ ‘Don’t touch that.’ Menstruation is made out to be something shameful, something unclean.” These beliefs aren’t confined to any one community. Taboos around menstruation cut across caste, class, and geography.
Even in urban areas, where access to education and products is higher, myths around menstruation persist, especially when it comes to cloth pads. Many women hesitate to use them, believing them to be unhygienic or old-fashioned. Geeta notes, “Ironically, it’s easier to speak openly with rural women. They’ve faced real consequences — shame, exclusion — for using cloth. When you validate their experience and offer a better version, they listen.”
Geeta also explains how cloth pads offer immense environmental benefits, as disposable sanitary pads — made from plastic and synthetic chemicals—take 500 to 800 years to break down.
From village kitchens to Cannes
Unipads’ work hasn’t just changed lives quietly — it’s also challenged stigma out loud.
One of their most powerful campaigns, Adeli, took aim at a deeply ingrained practice in parts of Gujarat, where menstruating women working in the food industry were labelled “adeli” and barred from entering kitchens during their periods. For daily-wage workers, this meant losing a day’s income every month.
Geeta’s startup turned that exclusion into protest. In a bold and unforgettable act, these very women, those once shut out of kitchens, cooked and served a full-course meal at a fine-dining restaurant in Ahmedabad. Celebrities, influencers, and community leaders came not just to eat, but to witness a statement. The event, captured in a powerful documentary, went on to win a Silver Glass Lion at the Cannes Creativity Festival.
Their latest effort, ‘School Miles’, carries the same spirit — challenging silence with action. Aimed at improving school attendance among adolescent girls during their periods, the initiative was piloted with 1,000 girls across two states — Gujarat and Rajasthan. Each girl receives a thoughtfully packed kit: reusable Unipads that last up to 18 months, a cloth school bag stitched by local women, undergarments, soap, and a hot water bag for cramps.
Attendance is tracked monthly, and at the end of the year, those showing consistent improvement receive “education and hygiene recharges” — new pads, undergarments, stationery, or uniforms. But the rewards don’t stop there. Top performers unlock aspirational experiences: a meal at a city restaurant, the chance to meet a role model, or access to online courses. A small reward, perhaps — but a deeply meaningful one. Because every time a girl shows up to class on a day she was once told to stay home, she’s choosing courage. And someone is noticing.
More than a pad: A movement for dignity and change
Unipads recently entered the mainstream market through white labelling, supplying their pads to brands like Sirona and Pee Safe. But their focus remains grounded: empowering women, creating livelihoods, and reshaping menstrual narratives.
So far, the startup has sold approximately 4 million kits, impacting the lives of countless women across India and the globe.
But their true legacy lies beyond the numbers. In a country where menstruation is still cloaked in silence, Geeta, along with her Kalyanis, has built a movement of women who speak, educate, and act — loudly and proudly.
Edited by Khushi Arora
