Fairytale

When I was a little girl, like all little girls, I loved stories. My parents were never really into the whole “tell me a story” thing. They were more into the “here read this” thing. I discovered Ariel, Cinderella, Rapunzel, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, the Twelve Dancing Princesses, and all of the others. I am deeply grateful to Hans Christian Anderson, the Grimm Brothers, and Walt Disney. Without them, my imagination would probably have withered into a squash.

My issue with these stories, however, is that they got me hooked on one problematic idea. Prince Charming, that elusive knight-in-shining-armour-riding-on-white-horse type spectacle was ubiquitous in all of these stories that I was quite fond of. Bollywood, with its melodrama and unending romances, did not help the situation. As I got older, neither did Meg Ryan and Julia Roberts. I had unquestionable faith that the prince would come to me, someday, and that I would just know.

Of course no one, not even I, can escape some wisdom with a few years of experience. And what I have found is this - people find their prince, at least they think they do. Some people have to fight to be with their prince, and some of them give up. Some of them get married and are well on their way to Happily Ever After. I know now that love is magical, but the Prince is not. I’m not saying he’s not perfect – I’m saying he’s real, which in my opinion, is much much better.