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Sundays are my days. I always cook the Sunday lunch. It has been my speciality for the past six years. Nani is proud of my cooking as well as my hair, which is long and black. She never forgets to add that I have inherited her culinary skills and that her coconut oil massages every Saturday made my hair the crowning glory it is today. My skin tone is dark and Nani named me Krishna because Lord Krishna was dark in complexion. I might be dark-skinned which is looked down upon, but I still have the ticket to be charming like her Lord. It’s been ten years since she started living with us in Lucknow. She moved here after Dad expired in a car accident. I was twenty. Nanaji expired even before I was born.
“Oh! Yes Nani, it will make me fairer and I will find a better qualified groom.”
But it had an abrupt end when the whole village found out that she fell in love with a young British boy who served under the British Raj as a clerk.
Nothing that had any association with that woman had any entry in our house. He did not allow your mother to go for walks with her friends.
Nani lived all her life trying to be better than the other woman whom she had only heard about.
When I was seventeen, I had a huge crush on a new boy who came to our class. By that time I was convinced about the other girl. I completely believed that he will fall for some other girl.
I could not breathe or talk for months. I lived in a daze. The only saving grace was the Tanpura, Maa taught me to play when I was a child.
First published here
Proud Indian. Senior Writer at Women's Web. Columnist. Book Reviewer. Street Theatre - Aatish. Dreamer.
The story is good, but the way it is written is confusing. Expression of writing needs a little polish! 🙂
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