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More café, not much lait

Café au lait. That's me.
Okay, not really. More of the café, 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-type. (She wouldn't have been so blasé if she knew he was more than a friend at that time!). I couldn't figure out why fairer guys liked me.

Then I met big C. Who loved and loves me for the person I am, the way I am. And how I look. Given that he is himself very Aryan-looking, I still am surprised. Maybe, it's because we're literally, total opposites, in every way.

And yes, he likes more coffee, less lait!

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