Tuesday 29 January 2013

Sundarella

Once upon a time not very long ago (in fact, it could even be today), there lived a beautiful young woman called Sundarella (Sundari for short) in some city in India, it no longer matters where – whether in the rural hinterlands or in the supposedly cosmopolitan metros. She spent hour after drudgery-filled hour, day after mind-numbing day balancing the books, managing the finances, and studying for her Economics exam. Her stepfather and stepbrothers left her alone at home while they painted the town/village/city red.
One day, Sundari sat in her small and rather airless study despite the (almost) constant creaking of the rickety fan and started to sob. As expected, a Fairy Godmother popped out of nowhere. Sundari dried her eyes and looked up hopefully at her and quickly and articulately explained her sorry predicament. The Fairy Godmother plumped herself down on a wobbly chair and weighed the situation. After a long while, she finally responded, “You know, Sundari, all things considered, I think your stepdad and stepbrothers are actually doing you a huge favor. Have you been reading the papers these days?”
“But what about the pumpkin and the party dress and the other stuff you’re supposed to conjure up?” sniffed Sundari utterly disappointed with the Fairy Godmother’s decidedly unsparkly response.
“Are you kidding? Those ball gowns with the necklines so low they go all the way to Antarctica? And the tight waists that show off all your womanly curves? Not a chance. Haven’t you heard – women are not supposed to tempt the poor men who are just about managing to rein in their animal impulses with great difficulty as it is. No, I think you’re much better off in that dowdy outfit of yours!”
“Okay, no party dress. What about the pumpkin carriage and lizard-footmen?” Despite her unglamorous surroundings, Sundari still remained stoutly optimistic.
“My dear girl! How long do you think it would take those footmen to shed their fancy skins and revert to the reptilian creatures that they are and slither out from wherever they are hiding to do God knows what? And do you honestly think that an open carriage made of a pumpkin is safe?”  The Fairy Godmother shuddered in imagined horror at the possibilities. “I’m just a poor old Fairy Godmother, emphasis on the Mother than the God I must say. My magic isn't strong enough to control all the testosterone-charged "children" that creep out of their playpens in the dead of night!”
“But I would be back by midnight!”Sundari implored, losing a little of her customary optimism.
“Midnight! Anything can happen by midnight. I can’t have you running around during broad daylight, let alone in the middle of the night, on these roads with barely one glass slipper to defend yourself with! Are you crazy?”
Sundari wailed now seeing all hope of a glamorous ending gallop away into the ever-deepening twilight, “But how will I ever meet my Prince Charming if I’m locked up within these walls? How will I ever get my happily-ever-after ending?”
“What’s the big hurry? Being locked up in a palace is no less dismal than being locked up in this tawdry little house. In fact it may be worse; you need to keep your face away from the paparazzi in addition to everything else. No, it’s no fun, really. Believe me, my girl, you’re actually better off just the way you are!”
“But that’s not the way it’s supposed to end!” wept poor Sundari.
“No, that’s not the way it’s supposed to end, but when fairy tales become horror stories we have to keep revisiting and rewriting the ending! I’m very sorry my dear, but no balls or parties for you," the Fairy Godmother said firmly as she extricated herself gingerly from the wobbly seat. As she reached the door, she turned back and said, "As for happily-ever-after endings, whoever said it had to have a Prince Charming?”

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