I hate white...black is my color
In a small village near Tanjore, in a non-descript house, a girl sat on a small moda, squirming, as she was subjected to a detailed scrutiny by a bunch of old hags and a man. The man wore spectacles, was in his late twenties and had no hair, or receding hair. The girl had just turned twenty one and had to be married off lest the society jeer at her parents for not performing their duty. The wedding date was fixed. The girl still hadn't mustered the courage to see the face of the man she would spend her life with. Good girls from good families didn't ogle at men. Certainly not at a man they were going to take as their Lord and Master. The girl and the man got married. He wasted no effort or time to deflower her. In a few months she got pregnant and delivered a health baby boy also. Now, her status in society rose. She became the 'saubhagyavati' who had everything in life. A husband, a son, and a fair skin. The girl, now a woman, had flawless fair skin. The man