Fairytales and so on

Fairytales are a funny thing. We can probably hold them responsible for most the hare-brained notions of Prince Charming in whites which haunt young ladies world over. But, even so, I cannot help but believe that we live in the hope of that fairytale we’ve held on to for a long time turning into reality. If it doesn’t happen, well, we quickly dismiss it as being something we never really (in actuality) ever hoped for. But that isn’t true. And such cynical points of view are adopted in the eventuality that it doesn’t happen. What I am looking at today is, what when it does? Despite it being something we look for all our lives, do we recognize and give it its due?

It is ever so rarely that you stumble upon something so precious and cherished that it makes everything worth its while. Life presents the most beautiful gifts it has on offer in the funniest packages. You find them when you least expect them, and you probably even start with ignoring or avoiding them.

She met someone. The meeting didn’t register as anything particularly important for either of them. Eventually, they discovered a distant familial tie, but that wasn’t what gave rise to the spark. Speaking of which, for over a year she did not even agree they had a spark. When they met for the first time, they were both very different people (from each other and from what they’ve become today). Quite story-book like in that she was enthusiastic and showering her affections everywhere, basking in the attention paid from several other quarters, while he was quite, intriguing, cynical and had his own following of charmed or interested people. They rarely spoke in the first few months of their acquaintance, and whatever little they did was due to his initiative. For her, it was like the half-serious, light-hearted friendships she had with almost everyone else. For him, well, it was soon discovered that it was love. Hot and cold followed. When they spoke, they spoke for hours, about everything under the sun, about things which were ever-so mundane, yet could be discussed at great length. And when they did not speak, the gap could last months. But he did not give up on the feeling, and she, well, she wasn’t even really thinking about it. A phase of turbulence in her life made her jolt out of her merry little teenage soap. Relationships became serious, some died. He started assuming more and more importance, little by little. Before she even knew it, she was more dependent on him than on anyone else around. And vice versa, I think. A fortunate or unfortunate distancing made her sit up and take notice of how much he had started to mean to her. Steps were taken to remedy the distance. Maybe unfairly so, but it seemed important then. And it worked out well. Another messy affair followed. He survived, and so did she. And then love grew. Not from his end (that was already ‘there’, so to speak), but hers. Although it would be much prettier if I described it to simply have ‘happened’ one fine day, with her waking up in the morning and feeling in love. It wasn’t quite that simple. It developed in stages, grew over the tribulations they wrestled with, found life in the many tears shed by both of them over various things, strengthened when they faced negativity together, blossomed over beautiful conversations and summer-evening walks. She did not feel love overnight. It was a feeling which was moulded by several factors. It was an attraction developed not in a hurry, but through a series of irresistible meetings. The chemistry was not in a spark but in a slow fire that they both had to feed richly, for a long time, with expensive items like their own emotions. A lot of things followed from that point on- significant events, which for some reason seem insignificant in the context of this initial progressive realization of their own individual dreams.


It is important for us to keep our eyes and ears open and pay attention to when a dream of ours is taking shape, for it happens ever so quietly, unexpectedly, and noone from heaven sends you a signal that this one is the one. It is important to take note and work on the dream, for dreams are only vague outlines. It’s the reality that you pour into it which makes it the fairytale. If you make a mistake, think that this one is the one, and turn out to be wrong, or even if you’re right, and things simply don’t work; well, then, I suppose you can shrug your shoulders and move on. But at least you’ve tried. Without leaving scope for ‘if only’ type whinings. If you’re really brave, you’ll probably muster up the courage to dream again. Most of us will then be ready to make the compromise and do what we’re told to.


I cannot say for sure when the fairy tale began. To tell you the truth, she realized much, much, much later that this was that dream. It required much more effort than the dream had said it would. The fairytale sort of just happened, this, it needed to be made to happen. But somewhere, the line between fairytale and reality blurs, in that one forgets which picture is more beautiful, more perfect.

And this, for now, is all that is important.