Living through fairy tales!

As the lights go dim I retire into my bed with visions of daily living running through my head. In a few moments, I am transported into the world of dreams. Dreams where I see cackling witches sitting on dusty brooms and speeding off into misty skies, of pretty princesses locked up in high towers and ugly toads turning into handsome princes the minute they get released from their wicked spells. As the morning sunlight slides through the thick window blinds with a slight twinge I realize that my fairy tale dream has come to an end. These dreams have filled me with warmth as soft and gooey as marshmallows. They say dreams are the mirror to your soul and I cling on to them, because they stir something deep within me making me believe that my soul belongs someplace else; from a long forgotten era, wrapped up in fantasies of enchanting stories from faraway lands.

For instance I find the tale of “The Pied Piper” fascinating and bewildering at the same time. With his red pointed shiny hat, a tiny beard twitching at his chin and a cape loosely thrown over his shoulders he makes a very queer picture. But he has immense prowess stacked up inside him as he succeeds in banishing an entire colony of rats from the city of Hamelin. Hypnotized, rats from all nooks and corner; big fat ones, skinny ones, some having their tails standing erect all jump and scuttle to the strain of Pied Piper’s flute. He finally leads them to the sea, where they all perish. But poor Pied Piper gets a raw deal when the people of Hamelin do not stick to their end of the bargain. As part of revenge he leads all the kids from the city; golden haired girls with rosy cheeks and boys with pearly white teeth and shiny shoes to a merry trail of dance and music. The whole fairy tale has this unreal fantasy woven around it as the children flounder behind Pied Piper following him in a trance. In my many childish fantasies I had come to think of myself as one of the kids clambering on to the hill top, happily rambling behind Pied Piper as he takes us to the mouth of a huge dark cave. Beautiful visions are assured that once we enter the cave, we shall all topple to the other side of life which promises blissful joys, colourful candies, a forest where honeybees have lost their stings and where horses wore eagle’s wings and finally a garden which is a paradise blazing with sweet scented roses.

And then there is my eternal favourite fairy tale character “Rapunzel” seated atop a lonely chamber, all by herself, ensconced in a fortress so tall, which is impossible for any man to scale it. In this story, I do not envision myself as Rapunzel for her beauty is one which no living mortal can surpass, but I could be a mere bystander maybe a tiny mouse living between the ruined walls of the tall tower, playing hide and seek with day and light, watching Rapunzel’s love story unravel before me. In my fantasy, my face is plastered to a tiny hole as I literally stay there morning, noon and night watching her every move with my beady eyes. I am mesmerised with her beauty. Her skin is so pale and translucent; it glows when the flames from the firewood embers casts its gleaming specs, her quivering mouth has the deepest set of red lips and finally her hair. Beautiful long tresses falling like a golden sheet of finely spun gossamer yarn, casting a shadow of glittering yellow all around. She has a voice so divine, that even the birds outside the fort stop chirping just to listen to her melodious singing. It is filled with melancholy and pain of being trapped inside the tower, but it is this very soulful singing that one day entraps a handsome royal prince riding in the woods, making him stop by and fall in love with her. As the days go by, every evening, Rapunzel lets down her golden braid so that her lover can use it as a rope to climb up and visit her. There is something so clandestine and charming about the whole romance from that era that it takes my breath away. Maybe there is a tragic ending out there but I shut my mind towards it.

And who can forget little Thumbelina. No taller than the size of a little thumb, she portrays a picture of a delicate elusive little maiden. Her bed is cushioned with soft blue leaves, enclosed in a walnut shell and rose petals aid as her blanket. Her perilous journey begins when one day she is whisked from her comforts by a large ugly toad who insists she marries his equally ugly son. She manages to escape only to land up at a mouse’s house who introduces her to his friend a dark, shortsighted mole. The mole falls in love with Thumbelina and wants her to become his wedded wife. Thumbelina’s life is in doldrums and this is the part where I envision myself coming to her rescue in the form of a friendly swallow. With my wings outstretched I let her nestle at the croon of my neck and together we manage our escape from the dark tunnel. Soaring over snowcapped mountains and beautiful hilltops we finally reach a warmer place where I drop her into a little blossoming flower. Here, she finally finds her man of dreams the King of the Angel Fairies who is as tiny as her. 

In all the above tales, I do not see myself as the main protagonist. At times, I am only a mere onlooker in the back run watching the sequence of events unfold around me. These fairy tales will always be surrounded with an age old beauty that shall never get dull with the passage of time. There will be stories told of ogres and the fiery dragons being run over and trampled by handsome princes, magical goblins hidden in beautiful scented flowers, tiny dwarfs acting as soldiers and protecting pretty princesses, fairy angels springing up and spreading their special charms. So the good will always triumph over the evil and as long as these tales continue to stir magic into my soul and fantasies are spun around them, every minute of living becomes worth it.

So dream on; tell me who your favourite fairy tale character is?