I was born brown, as brown as the bark of the mango tree outside our house. I’d inherited Amma’s features—her round eyes and sharp nose—but not her wheat-colored skin tone. My coloring tinged a shade even darker than Baba’s skin. Perhaps, Amma never needed to apply a dot of kohl on my face to ward off buri nazar, the evil eye that outsiders are known to cast on cute, bonnie babies.
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