Lankeshi suddenly flipped up the walking stick in her hand so that the blunt metal handle was in the direction of Ranika’s face, and leaning forward she gently placed the cold metal against Ranika’s chin, using the stick as a prop to turn Ranika’s face from side to side. While his wife examined Ranika, Rudra stood next to her in support and mumbled, “You’re a bit of rough from the all the games in the sun, girl. I don’t think our son is the one for you.”
As Dhananjay tightened his arms around Ranika and pulled her close, gently rubbing her hands, she started to feel better. She sunk into the warmth of her father’s embrace, appreciative of the simple gesture.
“Shall we have lunch, Chinnu?” asked Sudhamini touching her face affectionately.
But Ranika, instead of responding to her mother’s words, grabbed her hand tightly and, fighting her tears as best as she could, firmly inserted it into the earthen pot, splashing the white liquid all over.
As soon as Sudhamini looked at the white liquid in the earthen pot she understood what it meant, what she had dreaded since Ranika’s childhood… The only way for her daughter to marry was to change her skin color. She would have to be fair skinned for a chance to build a family and lead a happy life. Or she would remain unmarried and the entire town would call her names: infertile! lesbian! witch!burden on your parents… No! She wouldn’t let anyone say that to her child—not now, not ever.
Ranika was pretty sure he was blushing now. But why did he have this fake paint on his body? Ranika wanted to grab his shoulders and ask him. Couldn’t he be himself? Yet, wasn’t that exactly what she had done, too? So she shut her mouth, put her head down, and kept walking, though the fact that Dinkara had been so gentlemanly and treated her with much respect made Ranika warm to him.
As soon as Ranika arrived in her wedding saree at the auspicious wedding area, which was right in the center of Saileshwar’s ancestral farmland, a surge of positivity engulfed her, mainly from the cheerful birdsong in the air, the golden sun in the sky, and the colorful outfits her Amma and Appa were wearing.
The moment it started to rain, panic spread like wildfire. Dinkara screamed loudly as his white coating started to run down his forehead and his cheeks, washing away into the ground. He let go of Ranika’s hand immediately and dashed from the wedding area as if a hurricane inside him was waiting to erupt. Not for a moment did he care about Ranika, the pheras, or the marriage ceremony at hand.
As Ranika continued to soak in the rain, all the white paint was washed away. She loved the rain. Everything about rain. The whispering hum as sheets of precipitation plummeted to the water-forsaken ground, the often-unanticipated flashes of lightning or the rolls of ominous thunder. She loved it all.
These are snippets from the original photo story. To check the full story, please click here