deviousways

Caf é au lait. That's me. Okay, not really. More of the caf é , less of the lait, would be just right. Yep, like millions of my countrypeople, I am, what a fashion mag would call, "gloriously tanned". But I didn't know that when I was smaller. I just heard people call me dark-skinned. Sounds so hurtful, so much less glam, doesn't it? Took me ages or rather, years, to come to terms with my colour. If only my face was the light brown that shaded the insides of my wrist, I'd think. If only I looked like my fair-skinned mother. If only. Would I even actually get my knight on a white charger? That was my unspoken fear, fuelled by too many Mills&Boons and seeing college pals happily chirp about this boy or that; getting roses from unknown admirers on Valentines', and even, being shadowed by faithful followers on their way home. Then boyfriends happened to me. Surprisingly, all lighter-skinned, except for one my mother charitably described as a Rajnikant-typ

Near our apartment, there's a sprawling slum. Filled with louts, loungeabouts, and of course, lithe women. Oh I forgot, there're lots and lots of little children too, always running about. The women, especially the younger ones, are quite beautiful. But become careworn quite quickly. Yet, they are never, ever fat. Not even when they're pregnant (which is quite often, let me tell you). When big C and I were trying desperately for a baby, I was sickened by the irony of it all. Here we were, seemingly gifted couple, earning well, own flat, own car, good food, and all that. And just not able to conceive. And there they were--beaten black and blue by their men, with god-knows-what to eat, but yet, but yet, pregnant with such ease! Of course I didn't known then that my body was/is differently-shaped inside. Or that we'd eventually have our own little miracle. But my original soul-searching was about why they were healthier than me. Why I had wonky periods, why I developed