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...
Some facts, a little fiction and random facets of life....