27 / Cinderella
On finding love, in the most unexpected place
Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful girl called Cinderella. She had two stepsisters and a stepmother who did not bother her much. Her stepsisters were diligent and dutiful girls who helped their mother, studied hard and excelled at everything they did. They did not like going out and considered it a waste of time.
Cinderella, on the other hand, was nothing like her dutiful stepsisters. She had no interest in her studies and had not developed any hobbies. She loved daydreaming and would spend her time thinking of all the fantastical adventures she would have when she left home.
One day, Cinderella spotted a flyer in the newspaper which announced a grand party. She ran to show it to her stepsisters. “Look at this!” she exclaimed. We must go for it. “We have to study Cinderella!” they chided. “And you should be studying too, or else you will fail!”
Cinderella ignored them and ran to her stepmother. “Mother, look at this!” she exclaimed. “What is it now, Cinderella? Can’t you see I am busy?” Her mother sounded annoyed as she stirred a large pot of stew. “It’s a grand party, mother! A ball. I must go!” Her mother sighed. “I don’t care where you go and what you do, Cinderella. Take the house keys with you so you don’t disturb your sisters. They wake up early to study.” Her mother did not look up from her cooking.
Cinderella rushed out of the kitchen, her heart thumping in her chest and began her planning. A month later, she had stitched herself a beautiful black dress, borrowed make-up from her friend and shoes from her neighbour. She did not have a nice bag to carry, so she stuffed some money her father had given her into her bra and set out into the night.
“You look beautiful, Cinderella,” her neighbour exclaimed, smiling kindly. “The prettiest girl in the entire town.” Cinderella blushed and thanked her sweet old neighbour. “It’s all because you helped me. Thank you, aunty,” she said, giving her a fierce hug. “Be good but also have fun,” replied her neighbour, giving her a tender kiss on the cheek.
The night was warm and humid. By the time Cinderella reached the party, she was drenched in sweat. Her carefully straightened hair had curled up, and her armpits were wet. She wiped the tiny bead of sweat from her upper lip, stepped out of the taxi and stared at the grand entrance. A throng of people stood at the entrance. Suddenly, Cinderella felt shy and unsure. Had she made a mistake coming alone? She was going to turn back and go home when a woman bumped into her. Cinderella turned to apologise and found herself in front of the most dazzlingly beautiful woman she had ever seen. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
The woman laughed with her head thrown back. “Whatever for?” she asked, taking a deep drag from her cigarette. “I….” Cinderella did not know how to respond. The woman smiled at her. “Girls apologise too much,” she tutted, shaking her head. Then she peered at Cinderella and asked, “Have you come alone?”
“Yes.” Cinderella sighed, realising her foolishness.
“So have I! Well done, girl. Shall we go in together?”
“Do people go to parties alone?” Cinderella asked, surprised.
“Not at all! But that is what makes you and me the most special, doesn’t it?” the woman grinned conspiratorially, and Cinderella grinned back. Holding hands, they walked into the grand party.
The band was playing music with beats so infectious that Cinderella found herself moving. The woman got her a small glass with a green liquid inside. “Drink up,” she said. “Then we will dance!” Cinderella drank without question. The green liquid burned her throat, and then her entire body felt warm.
“Ready?” the woman asked her.
“Ready,” Cinderella nodded.
They entered the dance floor, and Cinderella began swaying to the music. As the drink took effect, Cinderella found herself immersed in the music. The woman had moved to the centre of the floor and was swaying with her eyes closed. She was magnificent and regal. Her body moved in rhythm to the music. Men turned to look at her, but she did not care for a partner. Cinderella had never seen a woman as bold as her. She did not know that women could be this way – easy, light, independent and fun.
Taking inspiration, Cinderella closed her eyes too and stood, listening to the beat of the drums, the hum of the bass and the deep voice of the singer. Soon enough, her feet began moving, and she let her body lead the way. She danced without a partner, moving across the floor with grace. People stopped dancing to watch her. Women giggled and men stared. At one point, Cinderella found herself with the woman, and they danced entangled in each other’s arms. The woman kissed her cheek lightly. “This is freedom, child. Enjoy it,” she whispered and then vanished amongst the sea of bodies on the dance floor.
Cinderella laughed. Yes! She thought. This is freedom. And it tastes delicious.
As the night wore on, the dance floor thinned. Couples retreated to get drinks, take a break and eventually go home. But Cinderella remained till the band played its last song. When the lights dimmed, she finally opened her eyes, sighed and headed out to get a taxi. Her feet hurt, so she took off her shoes, preferring to walk barefoot. She hailed a taxi just as the horizon was turning pink with the first light of the day.
“Excuse me, miss!” a voice called out behind her. Cinderella turned to find a handsome young man standing nervously. She waited for him to continue. “I just wanted to tell you that you are beautiful,” he said, shyly. “Thank you,” Cinderella responded, surprised that someone had noticed her. Feeling emboldened, he said, “Can I take you dancing another time? There is a great band playing this Friday at the venue next door,” he said, pointing to a smaller building up the street. “Maybe you will come?”
Cinderella smiled. A whole new world had opened up tonight. “I'll see you on Friday,” she said, getting into her taxi.
When she reached home, she found her stepmother in the kitchen making tea. Her stepsisters were studying in the verandah. No one noticed her. She hung the house keys quietly and slipped into her room, planning her outfit for her next night out. She had found love tonight. And she would find it again and again, in a world that did not care if she passed or failed.
These photos have been taken in my childhood home in Calcutta. The place where I learned to dream, day dream and go dancing.
Fairytale Series / No.2
Over the next four posts, I am exploring fairytales I grew up reading and, in turn, have read to my daughter. What I considered magical now lacks its lustre. The stories lead me to believe that homes were safe spaces, a prince would always rescue me, I would find a supportive community of friends, and there is always a happy ending. But what happens when we subvert the story? Does it hold relevance in today's world? Is there a need to rewrite the narrative so that our children may know how to protect themselves and learn to draw firm boundaries? And are there happy endings at all?
Naqab (Mask) explores the many masks I wear as an Indian woman. It is my attempt to unravel, and discover my deep-seated conditioning, biases, strengths and weaknesses, one portrait at a time.
The project will span a year, with one portrait every week.
Head here for the entire series.
If you liked this project, please consider sharing or recommending my publication. It would immensely help a new writer like me reach a wider audience.
I would love to hear from you! Drop in a comment and let me know your thoughts.
Loved this Samira. Got me thinking about my first impressions of these stories.
Really enjoyed this one.