Colour, colour, which colour do you choose?

Sana smiled to herself as she waked back home. That last tackle had been a tricky one, but she was proud of the way her team-player, Manjeet, had anticipated that move and dodged it. It had been a good game, overall. The fact that they were now one step closer to the semi-finals was the icing on the cake.

She desperately wanted to lead her team into the finals and eventually win the inter-school basketball tournament. They had a good team this year, and she genuinely believed they could make it all the way. She had been on the team last year as well, but there had been too much focus on internal politics and not enough on the game itself. She herself had constantly clashed with her captain on what strategies they needed to adopt for each game, on who were their strong players and who needed to be benched. It had been a tireless stream of arguments and it had eventually shown in their game. They had lacked coordination and team spirit, and to the sore disappointment of the coach, had been outed within the first two games. That was when she decided that the next year, when she was speculated to be captain, she would take a much different approach. She would train and work her team hard, but she would also make sure that they felt like they could count on her, that they had each other’s back and that when they won, that win was all of theirs, not just one person’s.

Today after winning that game that would take them into the semi-finals, and watching the pride and happiness on her team member’s faces, she felt like she was one step closer to achieving that goal.

As she opened the door to her house, she realised that she was starving. She could smell the aloo parathas her mom was cooking. She dropped her school and sports bag in the living room and went into the kitchen.

Her mother was at the stove, busy frying fresh parathas for lunch.

“Mamma!!” she squealed from behind, startling her mother, before giving her a tight hug.

“Sana!” her mom exclaimed, as she held a hand to her chest, “You scared me! Don’t do that again.”

“Why not?” Sana laughed as she landed a loud kiss on her mother’s cheek.

“Leave me, Sana. What’s gotten into you?” her mother grumbled, even though Sana knew she was secretly pleased. She liked these displays of affection from her children, even though she would never admit it. She liked to pretend it annoyed her, but Sana knew otherwise.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll let you cook,’ Sana conceded, ‘But guess what? We won the game today!”

“Did you?’ her mother asked absent-mindedly, while kneading the dough for the next batch of parathas.

“Yes, it was awesome!” Sana said excitedly, as she poured herself a glass of water, ‘The girls were so good. You should’ve seen us. I think it was one of our best games this year.”

“That’s all good Sana, but basketball is just a game. When will you show this level of interest in learning to cook? Or better yet, cleaning your room?”

“Way to bring down the mood,’ Sana muttered, as she re-filled her glass.

“What?” he mother asked, as she turned around for the first time, and got a good look at her daughter.

“My God! Sana!” she exclaimed.

“What?” Sana asked, looking conscious. Did she have dirt on her face that she didn’t know of?

“Look at your colour! You’ve become so dark! Were you out in the sun the whole day?” her mother asked, as she switched off the gas and kept the dough aside, parathas forgotten under the current situation.

“Well, of course I got tanned. It’s not indoor basketball.” Sana said defensively, as she touched her face. It still felt a bit warm from the sun.

“You’ve turned at least three shades darker!” her mom said, looking aghast.

She turned around and started searching for something among the kitchen cabinets. “I’m going to make you a face pack to reduce the tan.” Her mom said, making up her mind.

“Besan is quite effective.”

“Mom, I don’t want a face pack.” Sana whined. The last thing she wanted at this point was to sit with a face pack for the next hour or so. She was hungry. She was sweating. She was also tired and wanted nothing more than to take a nice long shower, have a good lunch and then sleep the afternoon away.

“I’m not asking you.” Her mom said sternly as she whipped out the required kitchen ingredients and started mixing them in a bowl.

“This is ridiculous!” Sana said, her temper flaring.

Her mom hadn’t said a single word about her win or the game, even though Sana had talked of nothing else over the last week. And now, not only did she have to deal with that indifference, but she was also being subjected to a beauty regime which was the last thing she wanted or was interested in.

“Sana,’ her mom said in a placating manner, realising that her daughter was on the verge of one of her infamous temper tantrums, “You have such beautiful skin. You are such a beautiful girl. It’s important to look after yourself. Playing out in the sun in this manner? Not even caring that your skin will get damaged and you will get tanned.

That’s not good, Sana,” she said softly.

“Why not? Sana asked stubbornly, “Why are you always bugging me to put on these face masks and stupid beauty creams. I don’t want to be fair! I like myself the way I am.”

“But Sana, I’m doing this for your good.” Her mom explained.

“How is this good for me? I love paying basketball. I don’t care how tanned I get in the process. You haven’t asked me a single question about my game! You just started nagging me as soon as I came in.”

“Hush,’ her mom said gently.

 She kept the bowl with the mixture aside, went up to her daughter and enveloped her in a hug.

“Don’t be angry with me. You know I just worry about you.” She said gently, as she hugged her oldest daughter.

Sana didn’t say anything, even though she could feel her anger thaw slightly.

 “Okay I won’t ask you to put on the face mask right now.” Her mom said, as she gently took her daughter’s hand and led her to the dining area. “You must be hungry after that game. Go wash your hands. I’ll serve some hot parathas and dahi for you.”

“I’m not hungry.” Sana said sullenly.

“Don’t be like that, baccha.” He mom chided, ‘C’mon go, freshen up. I’ll bring your lunch.”

Sana reluctantly went to the bathroom to freshen up. Keeping up the act of being mad with your mom worked better when you weren’t starving; and when said mom wasn’t dangling food, that too aloo parathas, in front of you as an olive branch.

After freshening up, Sana sat at the dining table as her mom loaded her plate with food and placed it in front of her with a flourish.

She instantly felt better after having the first bite. There was nothing like home-cooked food to brighten up your mood. That, coupled with the fact that they had won a game today, was enough to get her spirits high again.

“So, tell me about your game.” Her mother said as she sat next to Sana at the table.

Sana raised her eye-brow at her mother, to say Really?

Her mother laughed at her expression and boxed her cheek gently.

“Enough of your drama now.” She said, “Tell me about your game.”

It didn’t take long for Sana to launch into a detailed explanation of how the girls had really upped their game since the last match; how Jaya had scored that three-pointer, not to mention Manjeet who had just carried in the game in the last few minutes.

Her mother smiled as Sana spoke and threw in the occasional hmm and oh really; not to forget the rare wow!

Sana knew her mother didn’t really understand the game, nor was she really interested in learning. Her mother, who watched all the Star Plus daily soaps between 6pm to 11pm and who had never missed a single episode of Big Boss, found the likes of basketball or any sport, for that matter, not quite as exciting.

Despite that, she sat and patiently listened as Sana went on and on about her game, because she understood how much this sport and team meant to her daughter.

As Sana finished up the last few morsels of her lunch and sat with a peaceful and sleepy expression on her face, her mother tentatively broached the subject again.

“Now don’t get angry with me, but I think it’s better if you apply that face pack before you go to sleep.”

“Mamma, really?” Sana groaned, but it was noticeably less vehement than before. She sounded tired, if anything.

“Yes Sana, you’ve really tanned, beta. It’s quite noticeable.”

“Who cares?” Sana yawned.

“You won’t understand these things now, Sana, but you’ve been blessed with clear, fair skin. So many people pray for skin like yours and here you are, not taking care of yourself.” Her mother scolded gently.

“Why is it a blessing?” Sana asked, curiously, but the fight had gone out of her. She was close to caving, just to get her mom off her back.

“It just is, Sana. C’mon, you’re not a child. You know how it is. Life is not just about basketball, beta. Now you are young, so it seems like that’s all there is to life, but as you grow you will see what a difference this makes. When you have to get married, do you think they will look at how many basketball games you have won? What about when you have to get a job? Beauty matters. Don’t you see those Fair and Lovely ads on TV? That’s reality, Sana. Don’t take it for granted.”

“I don’t want to get married to someone who is not interested in basketball.” Sana said, with a grumpy look on her face.

She personally thought her achievements in sport were more important than the shade of her skin colour. Also, didn’t you need a qualification to get a job?

“Don’t be silly, Sana,’ her mom, snapped, losing her patience.  “Go apply the face mask. Take your bags with you as well. You’ve just dumped them over there.”

With that her mother picked up her plate and walked back to the kitchen.

Sana wearily got up and headed to her room, with the bowl of face mask in one hand and her bags in the other.

As she was unpacking her bags, her hand hit something hard.  With a quizzical expression, she dug out the object and smiled when she realised it was the medal they had received for winning their game that day. She had been so proud to receive it along with her team, so happy to see the looks on her team member’s faces as they had received the recognition they deserved.

 She looked at it and recalled the weeks and months of practice that had gone into achieving that medal. It was more than just a piece of metal.

And yet, her mother’s words, ridiculous as they were, had somehow diminished it’s worth. 

Diminished the value of her hard work.

When you have to get married, do you think they will look at how many basketball games you have won?

With a sigh, Sana threw the medal on her bed and picked up the bowl with the face mask.

**