When music sweeps me under, the rhythm, the beats pulse through my veins, and I dance with abandon. Every leap, every swirl is joyously graceful. The choreography is spontaneous...in my mind라이브 바카라 eye. But self-consciousness and I, we are best buds. That is why when Ms Retta calls for dancers for our school라이브 바카라 annual day, I kind of slump back. They tend to pick the toppers or their favourites, anyway. And I...well, I get uneasy pushing myself forward, calling attention to myself like some of my super-confident classmates do.
‘Okay, eighth graders,’ Ms Retta announces. ‘I want everyone to head to the main hall for selection. We’ll play some music, and I want all of you to dance. Yes, all of you. No complaints or excuses, please. We will pick those who are suitable for this dance.’ And with that, Ms Retta marches off.
Excitement buzzes as we head to the hall. I look around and realize that mostly everyone라이브 바카라 just like me. We all want to be in the spotlight, to be the chosen ones. But we are too timid to put ourselves out there. But to dance when everyone라이브 바카라 dancing? This we can do!
The music starts, and we all just shuffle around a little self-consciously. We catch each other라이브 바카라 eyes and giggle. Soon, we begin to laugh as we dance our hearts out. And guess what? I am selected!
‘Okay, each of those selected will come forward individually and showcase a dance item. Pick anything you like,’ calls out Ms Retta.
I would love to groove to one of the popular numbers, but I know my steps will fall into a loop. They tend to do that when I am outside my head, so conscious of the watching eyes that my mind blanks out. So, I am sticking to one of the short classical dances that I have performed since I was four.
My heart starts to pound. Classical dances are performed barefoot. Keeping my knee-high socks on is sure to send me slipping across the smooth tiled floor. But if I remove my socks, they will all see my legs— my legs with dry, wrinkled skin that has formed cracks which look like the scales on a crocodile라이브 바카라 back or remind one of those photos of arid fields where fissures run long and deep.
But everyone is waiting. A toss-up between removing my socks or not dancing? That라이브 바카라 a no-brainer. I slip out of my socks, wishing my pinafore were long enough to cover my legs.
The music starts, and I begin to dance. I focus my eyes on my hand movements, as I have been taught. I feel stiff and disjointed. I sense the eyes on my legs, the appalled stares focused on the white, dry flakes contrasting with my dark skin. I can feel my skin shrink away from those eyes and wither under their disgust.
Gradually, my body catches the rhythm, and I flow with the music, feeling like sparkling dust motes swirling through the sunlit air. I come to a halt to enthusiastic applause from everyone, and bubbles of joy fizz through me. The teachers look happy and are clapping, too. Then, Ms Gar calls out, ‘You should really put moisturizer on your legs, Raaga. They are very dry.’
The smile freezes on my face. I desperately try not to look around, quite sure that everyone is now looking at, whispering about and pitying my scaly legs. I mumble something about forgetting to moisturize and hurriedly pull my socks on. I am too embarrassed to admit that my family cannot afford luxuries like moisturizers.
Then, Ms Dhran approaches me and says, ‘You are selected, Raaga. You have a natural grace about you.’ I beam my thanks, but then she pats my shoulder sympathetically and continues in a whisper, ‘Avoid dark- coloured clothes for your dance, though. They won’t suit you. You could try applying cucumber, you know. I’ve heard this baba recommend it for fairer skin.’
‘Sure, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am,’ I blurt out, wretchedly holding on to my smile, feeling it stretch my skin as if it would tear right across my face. This is advice I have heard before. Every time I go shopping, I tend to pick either white or some shade of brown or olive green. Browns and olive greens are like camouflage. They don’t call attention to my darkness.
I watch Ms Dhran walk away and feel my throat clamming up. I am too scared to look around to check who had overheard the horrible exchange. That라이브 바카라 when an arm lands around my shoulder, and my friends Shivani and Renuka come up beside me. ‘Raaga! Great going, ya! You danced so beautifully!’
‘Thanks, ya.’ I smile and then grimace, ‘But I have to figure out my sari. I hate that I can’t wear all colours. Fair people like you can wear what they like.’
‘Hardly!’ Shivani snorts. ‘Even fair people can’t wear certain colours. For example, pale shades tend to wash me out. As for you, you are beautiful! Why are you worried?’
I smile, grateful for her attempt at making me feel better. But of course, she doesn’t really mean it. Beautiful? Who, me? No way! No one라이브 바카라 ever called me that. The most I have got from folks at home is that I have pretty eyes.
How many times have I heard the phrase nalla niram illa in Malayalam? Any dark-skinned person is just not ‘fair enough’. My younger, fairer sibling is always the ideal. She is the beautiful one with her rosy skin, silky hair, long lashes and gorgeous eyes.
‘You know,’ Renuka interrupts my thoughts casually. ‘You look like this actor from the sixties. She is a friend of my mother라이브 바카라.’
Now, I inwardly roll my eyes. Right! I look like an actor. They are really going overboard with their attempts to make me feel good.
But Shivani continues, ‘You are right, Renuka. And you know what, Raaga? You should really avoid browns in your clothes. What are you trying to do? Fade into the background? You should try bright yellows, fuchsia, oranges and bright blues. They will make that dark chocolate skin of yours pop and glow!’
Yeah, that라이브 바카라 what I want. For my dark skin to pop and glow like I am some neon sign. I’d just look gaudy. No, thanks. But their well-meaning cheer brightens my day.
I enjoyed dancing, got selected and have kind friends. What more could I want?
Excerpted with permission from Hug Yourself: Body Positivity and Empowerment Stories for Teenagers, Edited by Vinitha, published by Penguin Random House
