In conversation with Kala, founder of MITU Foundation

Transferring the Attention

My name is Kala. I started this journey in 2009 when I was 58 years old. My daughter Maitreyi had passed away, and I registered a charitable trust called MITHU in her memory. My other daughter, living in the USA, suggested we call it Mithu since that's what we called Maitreyi at home, but she created it into an acronym—Multiple Initiatives Towards Upliftment—that aligned with my idea for the trust. In a lot of ways, I transferred the attention from my daughter to the organization.

My uncle helped set up the trust with ten main objectives and 26 ancillary ones, covering everything from tree plantation to medical facilities, schools, and ashrams—anything I wanted to do. I chose menstrual hygiene as my focus after hearing statistics from Anshu Gupta's organization, Goonj. At 58, I felt my age was perfect for tackling this neglected issue that's steeped in myths and superstitions. I was also looking for something with a success rate that didn't require too many specialized skills.

Teach a Man to Fish

There was no contentment or satisfaction in giving away free things—neither were people happy, nor was I. This was a turning point for me. I once distributed saris in a slum in memory of my daughter, and it was chaotic. People grabbed at them, complained about colors, and demanded money for alterations. I came home upset, and my father told me a Chinese proverb: "Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime." That's when I decided to focus on training and employment instead of charity.

Early Struggles

With no money for raw materials, we started with newspaper bag-making using maida as glue. We taught about 60 people in the same slum over three days, but only 5 people agreed to continue. Out of those 5, only 1 or 2 did a decent job. The rest wanted more money than the 25 or 50 paise I was ready to pay, and they did not do the best work. One night, a drunk husband of one of the women came to my father's house demanding money for his wife's work. I was giving only 20 or 30 rupees, and he created a big scene. I realized this wasn't going to work, and I was getting into trouble.

Asha then joined us in December 2009, bringing tailors and sewing machines. Though I'm a good seamstress and used to make my children's clothes, I became the designer while others did the production. Everything grew organically. I was just a housewife who taught in schools wherever my husband was posted in the chemical industry, but I had a wonderful group of about 25 women around my age from good backgrounds who supported me voluntarily. They provided funding, contacts, and encouragement. We started making what we called "goofy bags" and slowly improved the quality. My husband helped with accounts, marketing, and branding.

The Pad Man Connection

The business side developed when we got machinery through a Rotary Club donation and set up production in a rural village with help from Mr. Muruganantham—the "Pad Man" as he's known, from Coimbatore. Everything fell into place like a huge jigsaw puzzle. The machine produced basic pads without wings, but we faced challenges when big companies like Johnson & Johnson and Procter & Gamble penetrated rural markets with cheap products, and the government started providing free sanitary pads to schoolgirls. Our products stopped selling and people would take them only for free. Later, there were concerns about single-use pads being non-biodegradable and unhealthy because of the gel. Our cloth pad business struggled, and we went through various phases—from cloth to single-use pads back to cloth, then hybrid varieties, and eventually to cups.

Growing By Word of Mouth

Meanwhile, the upcycling business grew organically through word of mouth. Asha has excellent business acumen and has built this side of the enterprise. By the time we realized it, everyone in Malleswaram knew about MITU Foundation. The quality improved naturally over time, and we embraced social media only about two years ago, though I was initially against it. I got the Schneider's Best Social Entrepreneur award, which recognized how we had transformed from just an awareness organization into a sustainable business.

What Success Really Means

What defines success for me isn't money. Success is the behavior change we've brought about and the confidence we've given to the women who work with us. Women like Hemalatha and Jaya have transformed—not monetarily, but in terms of confidence, independence, and communication skills. They've learned to speak properly and present themselves well.

We're like a big family. I don't behave like a boss, though I sometimes wonder if this approach limits our ability to expand. For me, it's been a wonderful learning journey. I'm calm about the future because I'm not depending on this for my livelihood.

Asha came to us in a difficult state after losing money in the cement business, but now her sons are engineers working for foreign companies. She had told me she'd work voluntarily if needed. This kind of relationship is what I value most. The only limitation people point out is that I don't have a secondary person in charge—no highly qualified partner or family member to take over. I have two pillars, however: Asha handles upcycling, and Yoru is in charge of menstrual hygiene management. They support me completely.

Action Over Advocacy

I prefer action over advocacy. I don't like armchair speakers—I want actionable work. This might be why we've become an enterprise rather than just an NGO. I'll always remain at the grassroots level, and I love that feeling. We do field visits, check how women are maintaining their cloth pads, and educate them about proper washing techniques.

The Thrift Store Experiment

The thrift store was my latest experiment. I spent about a lakh renovating the space, which some thought was risky. I wanted to attract college students and change the perception that only low-income groups buy second-hand clothes, while high-income groups donate. I wanted to promote the circular economy and minimalistic living among young people.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

The challenge is that everything I've taken up is difficult to market. Cloth pads aren't in demand—I have to push and promote them constantly. Even gynecologists told me, "What do you mean? We all hated cloth pads. In the old days, they were using rags." I have to explain that what we have now is a designer pad, not the old rags they used before. We have good stain removers and detergents now, so we educate women to wash them thoroughly. Upcycling isn't popular either—in 8th Cross, there are beautiful bags better than ours at half the price. It's two steps forward, one step back, but we manage.

What I am proud of is that we've diverted thousands of kilograms from landfills and given salaries to many women. More importantly, we've built their confidence and changed their outlook on life.

Channeling Grief Into Solid Work

After 22 years since my daughter's death, I've been able to channel my grief into solid work, and that transformation has been the most meaningful part of this journey.