I emerged from my mother’s womb,
long and crumpled like a purple ribbon,
the colour of an overcast inky sky
People tittered: She is not like her mother,
Beautiful like early dawn or luminous like saffron milk
She is so dark, they whispered
It’s a pity—to be coffee-hued is her blemished destiny
The older I grew, the darker I got
And there was no respite from people’s barbs
She is the colour of brinjal, said some
No, no, make that fried brinjal, giggled the fairer ones
I stared hard at the mirror and truth stared back at me
There was no denying the colour of my skin
That defined me, robbed me of my true identity
A lover may have described it as silken mahogany
Or the amber shadows of falling dusk
But, alas, there was no lover in sight
Only acid tongues from where the barbs fell thick and fast
Soon it was time to find a man for me
Wanted: fair, fair, fair!
Screamed matrimonial ads
Fair in four weeks, promised fairness creams
I tried them all, but in vain
for my skin tone obstinately remained the same
Is she fair? asked boys’ parents
Err…no, but she is slim, said mine with hope
But we want tall, slim and fair, they insisted
While their mocha-coloured son blandly looked away
with fantastical dreams of a different bride
Repeatedly I got rejected
in the arranged marriage ruckus
Like damaged goods strewn on a factory floor
Or failed recruits shown the door
One day I broke down
and to the heavens cried:
Are only fair damsels welcome in this world?
Is dark not beautiful, for you made me?
Tell me, oh God, answer me!
A divine voice spoke in my dreams:
I created you my child for the world to see
What great beauty lies in darkness too
The moon shines brighter in a raven sky
And there will be no day without night
If there is no black
Can chalk be seen?
If there is no granite
Temple goddesses shall not be
If not for coal
Where will white diamonds be?
A slithering dark snake
is a thing of beauty
it evokes power, and contains mystery
Of all my creations on this earth,
You count amongst the most beautiful
For there are fair maidens aplenty I know
But rare, like black pearls, are dark ones like you
If you are ridiculed for being dark
The problem lies with them, and not you
So banish this thought from your head
And be proud of your ebony skin instead!
I awoke from my dream and ran to my Mother
Tell me, are you sad for having a dark daughter like me?
She embraced me in her warm sari folds and said:
It’s only the world that sees you through coloured lens
For a Mother’s eyes know no colour, my child
When I first laid eyes upon you,
You were more resplendent than the seven seas
I’ve told you before, I'll tell you again:
Why do you need to be fair
When your skin is already like burnished gold?
Why then, Mother, do men reject me?
Does my worth rest on my complexion only?
Remember, my child,
The man who’ll finally claim your hand
Will have the keen eye of a jeweler
And the wisdom of an ancient tree
He’ll know to pick the rarest of gems
From the assembly line clutter of fair ones
Finally it all made sense to me
Beauty is not always ivory
It can also be ebony
Dark is beautiful, dark is honey
Dark is beautiful, dark is me