POLAROID

I was eight years old when I asked my mother the question. “Amma, Am I adopted?”

I was standing in front of the mirror, looking at my reflection, deeply. She looked up. My three year old brother was rattling with his toys. Her tired gaze fell upon me, and she called me closer.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, look at Sibi. He’s just as fair as you are. Look at me. I’m yellow. NOT fair.” I retorted.

“Yes, because you’re invaluable, God gave you the colour of gold.”

She managed to give a touching explanation. I did not buy that. Sibi was still playing with his toys. He seemed indifferent to this conversation and my mother left  to get dinner for the both of us. I looked back at the mirror. I was short, slim and had really thick hair like daddy. My skin was evenly toned. I was still very unsure.

And then he spoke. “Karthi, I know something you don’t want to know”, said the evil three year old toddler.

I waited for him to proceed.

“I overheard daddy and amma talking that day when you were in school. You are adopted. They took you before I was born. Now that I’m here, daddy is planning on returning you.”

My heart broke into a million pieces and my soul ripped.

“They threw you out of a plane. Amma was standing on the terrace and she caught you. Now they are going to throw you back into the air.”

He fixed his gaze upon me as he complied this grim flashback. He went back to rattling with his toys when mom returned with dinner. I ate in silence. My doubt for ages had been confirmed. But I did not want to leave. I wanted to stay next to my mom, safe in her warmth. I wanted to be with daddy, holding his hands.  But what if they did not want me? What if amma did not want me? What if daddy did not want me? But I wanted them, the very thought of being unwanted stabbed my feelings.

To make things worse, the very emotional Mani Ratnam flick Kannathil Muthamittal was also also released around the same time. I found it very highly relatable. I sank deeper into my feelings of being lost and unwanted. But my parents soon found out. First, they couldn’t believe the fact that an eight year old girl actually bought the silly animated story of a three year old toddler. Then, they were confused as to whether they had a unbelievably stupid daughter or an extremely evil smart son.

My mom dragged me into a room. She took out a pile of old photographs.

“See that? That’s me. December 20,1993. And see my tummy? That’s you, inside it. You came out six days later. They cut my tummy and took you out of it. I still have those surgical marks”

I looked at a picture of my very pregnant mother, in a hospital room, smiling, sitting next to her sister. She took out another old photograph.

“See this? That’s me again. New Year, 1994. And see that tiny little bundle of joy I’m holding? That’s you. You were five days old.”

I was still doubtful. And then she reached out to the deepest corner of the pile and took out a very tattered Polaroid. It was a black and white picture. I saw the three year old myself, dressed in a pretty dress, and hair left free, smiling.

“Do you know who this is?” she asked.

“Me?” I replied in a low voice.

“No. That’s Me. May ,1972. My third birthday.” She whispered in my ears.

The similarties were remarkably mind blowing. We looked identical in black and white pictures. I felt a huge wave of joy as I collapsed  into her arms.

I’m nineteen now and I have a very different prespective of being beautiful. Its not about the height, Its not about the colour or the sharp features. It was not about being skinny or plump either.

It’s all about feeling beautiful. Being beautiful and feeling beautiful are two very different things. When you feel beautiful, there’s grace in your style and confidence in the way you carry yourself. But above everything else, your smile become brighter and your eyes glitter. We are such a colour crazy country. We fall for everything “white”.

Everything , from our movies to TV commercials or magazine advertisements easily make us believe that only fair is beautiful. That’s the crappiest lie that has ever befallen this country. To stay beautiful, stay unfair.

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