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 mind바카라™s eye. But self-consciousness and I, we are best buds. That is why when Ms Retta calls for dancers for our school바카라™s 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.
바카라˜Okay, eighth graders,바카라™ Ms Retta announces. 바카라˜I want everyone to head to the main hall for selection. We바카라™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.바카라™ And with that, Ms Retta marches off.
Excitement buzzes as we head to the hall. I look around and realize that mostly everyone바카라™s 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 everyone바카라™s dancing? This we can do!
The music starts, and we all just shuffle around a little self-consciously. We catch each other바카라™s eyes and giggle. Soon, we begin to laugh as we dance our hearts out. And guess what? I am selected!
바카라˜Okay, each of those selected will come forward individually and showcase a dance item. Pick anything you like,바카라™ 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 legs바카라” my legs with dry, wrinkled skin that has formed cracks which look like the scales on a crocodile바카라™s 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? That바카라™s 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, 바카라˜You should really put moisturizer on your legs, Raaga. They are very dry.바카라™
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, 바카라˜You are selected, Raaga. You have a natural grace about you.바카라™ I beam my thanks, but then she pats my shoulder sympathetically and continues in a whisper, 바카라˜Avoid dark- coloured clothes for your dance, though. They won바카라™t suit you. You could try applying cucumber, you know. I바카라™ve heard this baba recommend it for fairer skin.바카라™
바카라˜Sure, ma바카라™am. Thank you, ma바카라™am,바카라™ 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 don바카라™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. That바카라™s when an arm lands around my shoulder, and my friends Shivani and Renuka come up beside me. 바카라˜Raaga! Great going, ya! You danced so beautifully!바카라™
바카라˜Thanks, ya.바카라™ I smile and then grimace, 바카라˜But I have to figure out my sari. I hate that I can바카라™t wear all colours. Fair people like you can wear what they like.바카라™
바카라˜Hardly!바카라™ Shivani snorts. 바카라˜Even fair people can바카라™t wear certain colours. For example, pale shades tend to wash me out. As for you, you are beautiful! Why are you worried?바카라™
I smile, grateful for her attempt at making me feel better. But of course, she doesn바카라™t really mean it. Beautiful? Who, me? No way! No one바카라™s 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 바카라˜fair enough바카라™. My younger, fairer sibling is always the ideal. She is the beautiful one with her rosy skin, silky hair, long lashes and gorgeous eyes.
바카라˜You know,바카라™ Renuka interrupts my thoughts casually. 바카라˜You look like this actor from the sixties. She is a friend of my mother바카라™s.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, 바카라˜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!바카라™
Yeah, that바카라™s what I want. For my dark skin to pop and glow like I am some neon sign. I바카라™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
