Memoir: When Krishna Wasn’t Fair Enough

I still remember that day—I was in Class 6. The sky was cloudy, and a light drizzle had made the school ground smell of wet mud. Our class teacher, Mrs. Lata, had just entered with a big smile and announced, “This year, our class will perform a play on Lord Krishna’s life for Janmashtami!”

All of us became so excited. Hands shot up for roles—Radha, Sudama, Balram—and then, the most special one, Krishna.

I don’t know what gave me the courage that day, but I slowly raised my hand and said, “Ma’am, can I be Krishna?”

Some of my classmates looked at me in silence… and then, they started laughing. “You? Krishna?” “Arey, Krishna was handsome…” “Tui toh kalo!” “Krishna looks divine, not like you!”

Their words cut deeper than I could understand at that age. I stood there, awkward and frozen, pretending like it didn’t affect me. But my heart was shaking.

And then, our teacher smiled and said, “Let’s give the Krishna role to Arnav, he’s perfect for it.” Arnav was tall, with a sharp nose and fair skin—exactly what everyone thought Krishna should look like. She didn’t even look at me again.

I quietly sat down. I didn’t say a word. That evening, when I returned home, I didn’t even feel like talking. I went straight to the room. I wanted to cry loudly… but instead, I cried silently into my pillow, because I didn’t want my Maa to ask me what happened.

That was the first time I felt ashamed of my skin. Till then, I had never even thought that my colour made me different. I used to love Lord Krishna, and I had imagined myself dancing with the flute. But that day, everything changed.

Since then, whenever I looked into the mirror, I started noticing things I had never cared about before. I stopped volunteering for main roles. I started hiding in the back row during group photos. I became quieter.

And all this… started from just one Janmashtami. One stage play. One laugh from the class. One decision by the teacher.

Looking back now, I realise how deep those moments went. It wasn’t just a play. It was the moment a child began doubting his own worth.

Now the question is what "Krishna" means?

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