Yes, She is my daughter

I was a smart kid at school and college, and very popular among the teaching staff and class-mates. It was may be because, I took part in all activities in the campus, added to it was my thick and long hair, which gracefully was flowing well below my waist, upto nearly my knee. I still remember my last day in college, all friends longed to take a group photo with me. Thus was my popularity.

Once out of college and started to look for job, I slowly realised that being smart was not enough, one had to have a fair skin too. Newspaper advertisements called for good-looking candidates; one with pleasing personalities, and so on. Until then I was under the impression that personality was internal. But No ! 'pleasing personality' meant --- one with fair skin. I was a failure, in the job market, as a fresher.

Same was the case in the marriage market. People before me comment saying Iam dark and therefore ugly. At times it shattered my egos, bruising my self confidence and I was scarred for life. Everyone told me it would be difficult to find a groom for Iam very dark.

From the day, I began to realise that I am dark born, I tried different oils, lotions, creams to change my skin colour. But, it would not. It was in my genes. I had taken over my dark skinned dad. Instead of my fair skinned mother. [Relate the joke by Jagan in Ayyan: where he says "Amma paal, appa decoction"]. Everyone ridiculed me for being born a dark girl. Thanks to the Indians ideology 'white is beautiful'. 

Not long before, my prayers were heard. A fair skinned handsome guy came forward to marry me. Of-course our's was an arranged marriage, and fortunately for me, none from his family saw me as dark skinned. In fact, they credited me for being brave to overcome such racist approach. I no longer spoke of the black skin paranoia. But the devil re-appeared in a different form.

I gave birth to a baby girl. Was worried that I would have to undergo all the trouble my mom had and I may have to do all the things that she did to change my skin colour. The little angle saved me from all such trouble. Same as me, she took over her father. She is born Indian white.

It was not long before that I realised, when I took her out for a stroll, people thought I was her 'Ayya' [baby-sitter], I could read it on their face. Such was the difference between us. She in no way resembled me. I can re-collect the dialogue that happened between me and a known lady on an occasion unknown. It was as:

Acquaintance: Who is this beautiful angle? [coddling my baby in pram]

Me: My daughter [Proudly]
Acquaintance: Unbelievable ! [shockingly] Paatha apadi theriyalae. [trans. Doesn’t look like that.]
Me: emm...Yes, she is my daughter.[I insisted]
Acquaintance: Uhh .. I mean..., I meant … since.. She is not like you. You see ! [remorsefully]

The damage was already done. But, was she not right? Sahana did not resemble me in any way. As days passed, many said this to me. I had a solution to this.

Watch this one:

If not by looks, at-lest by cloths. Now I can tell: 'like mother : like daughter'