Not Fair And Lovely
My introduction to racism and objectification
For once the mathematical wizard patriarch’s calculation in the math of probability deceived him. He selected my beautiful, fair-complexioned mother as his dark-skinned son’s bride. He expected the combination to result in a fairer lineage. To his utter disappointment, my DNA coder got it all wrong. I chose to be born rather corroborating George Bernard Shaw’s reply to Isadora Duncan. Shaw declined her proposal to produce a child with him citing the possibility of similar miscalculation.
I did not inherit my mother’s beauty or fair complexion. Neither did I inherit my father’s brain in arithmetic or aptitude in engineering. Rather the contrary. I inherited the genes of the darker complexion of my paternal family. It instantly diminishes a girl’s bargain value in the matrimonial negotiations. The patriarch had learnt that hard way with his own dark-complexioned daughters. He was hell-bent on bringing in fair brides for his dark-skinned sons to ensure a fairer breed of generation next. It was a calculated risk that he took. In my case, the calculation failed. The risk became the reality. First, I was a girl. That too a chocolaty coloured. A bitter one, no doubt. I did inherit the artistic nuances of my maternal family. But those were secondary or not so important for the net worth of a darker complexioned bride-to-be.
When the patriarch’s eyesight became poorer, I helped him shortlist suitable proposals for my eligible bachelor uncle. I read out loud the matrimonial classifieds in newspapers. I learnt that ‘Fair’ complexion was the topmost criterion for attracting a good marriage proposal. It was followed by good looks, caste, family background, and homemaking skills. Last but not least, a Bachelors or Master’s degree added more value. Having a career was not so important for women during my generation. But a higher academic qualification ensured a better catch in the matrimonial market. I learnt that my score was not up to the mark in the first two departments, skin colour and looks. Throughout my spinster years, the patriarchs and the matriarchs in the family brooded over my bleak chance of getting a ‘good match’. Later, some well-meaning relatives somberly advised my parents to abandon their disproportionately impractical ambition to marry me off to a so-called ‘good boy’. According to their suggestion, my parents should settle down for the not so bad, lesser mortals such as upper-class clerks in government departments or nationalized banks.
Illustration: Deepti Sugadan
By the time I reached the marriageable age, the matrimonial advertisements, especially for eligible bachelors such as engineers, doctors, chartered accountants and government officials, started featuring another qualification besides the ones mentioned above. It was ‘convent education’. My confidence dunked a little more as I was lacking in that department too. I studied in a vernacular medium school.
Still, the patriarch was very much concerned about my marriage right from the time I was five or six years old. Often I heard him asking our family matchmaker (ghatak) to look for a suitable match for me. He told him that he wouldn’t mind if the boy was from a poor family, but he must be brilliant in his studies. It was actually his own story. He was a brilliant student from a poor family and got married to my grandmother who was from a better-off family.
But, even at that age, I didn’t like the idea of getting married to a poor guy, no matter how brilliant in studies. I felt a little insecure at the thought of not being able to enjoy the fun of getting married to a rich guy. But the idea that marriage is the ultimate destination in a girl’s life started taking root in my mind.
Illustration: Deepti Sugadan
Bottom line
Fair skin is one of the prime parameters to measure a woman’s worth in India. It is racism and a major step towards objectification of women - an aspect of genderisation.
Is marriage the final destination or goal in a girl’s life?
Fairness cream