Once upon a time....

“Didi, I met Cinderella” my four year old cousin gushed happily as he sat admiring the colorful pages of the fairy tale. “Ya right, Cinderella is not real, it’s just a stupid story”, his seven year old sister piped in. “You are lying” he shouted back.
Thus started their argument which inevitably led to one crying loudly while the other sat making faces. After much coaxing and a bribe of chocolates both resumed their model behavior acting the prim and proper children they are. Their fighting forgotten now in the exchange of chocolates.
But my mind began to drift to my childhood days when Cinderella, Sleeping beauty, Aladdin were real people and not mythical characters created by some long forgotten grandma for the bedtime rituals of little children whose imaginary minds are not quenched by real incidents or naughty pranks, whose untainted souls struggle to accept realty but with unquestionable happiness accept these magical stories. I still remember the days when I used to sit up in bed reading these stories, happily unaware of the late hour, my mind drifting gaily beside Sleeping beauty’s bedside, flying on Aladdin’s magic carpet, running beside Cinderella as the clock strikes twelve or climbing up Jacks magical beanstalk. When sitting in school, listening to the same explanations about why the numerator is lesser in value than the denominator or staring at the biology diagram for an hour (an endless amount of time), these very stories provided relief and respite, a break from the monotony of classes into the world of fairies and castles. The mystery of why peter pan never grew up seemed more intriguing than fractions or biology. The time when I used to think that short people were snow whites seven dwarfs .That feels like a long time ago, yet even today Harry Potter is dearer to me than all the other books I have read, maybe because the child in me still craves for all those imaginary quests.
Real or not, Cinderella, Snow white, Sleeping beauty, Aladdin and Peter Pan were my childhood companions and I was happy and contented to believe in them. I cherish and treasure them.
And if that makes you think I am an overgrown girl, so be it!