Beginnings

In the beginning, there was me – and there was her. In the beginning, we were two.

Then, in the new beginning, there was me. Life was simple then. I didn't need to worry about where I would sleep, or what I would eat. A few days without meals, was something I was used to. Cold floors, and nursing wounds were the routine. There were no beds where I stayed.

That was then. Now, there was her. There was him as well. He was unimportant. He was the problem. I looked up and saw him slouch - his slothful belly and mournful mouth sinking incessantly into the mouldy, stained couch. He was sipping on a dark bottle of dark beer – something cheap no doubt, and was gazing spellbound at the TV

“What you looking at?” You would think that he came straight out of the States if you heard him speak with his nasal accent.

I reverted my gaze hastily. This was not the time to test the waters. I had to think about her. I had to sit this out for another hour. One hour and he would be snoring and nothing would wake him up.

It never failed to impress me. How I would blare music, silently sneak out of the door for a breath of fresh air and escape. And there he would be grinning, as he looked out the window, daring me to leave.

I did,once. Leave. A few days back, and now there was me. She had gone, but there was another. There was me – and there was her. Only.

I wish I hadn't picked up the phone that day. But they called to say there had been an accident. I was almost delirious with joy. I couldn't believe my luck.

“Is he dead?” My voice was barely a whisper as I tried to repress the quivering happiness that was gripping me.

Two hours later, there was a rotund, over-bribed, rough-tongued policeman walking me to see her lifeless, bony, beaten up body.

“The baby is fine.” I stared at the lady who was attempting to be nice to me.

“Is he dead too?”

“She must be in shock”, “poor thing”,

“ Is he dead too?” I knew I shouldn't have shouted. Everyone was ogling at me. And then, there was the pat on my shoulder. I was forced to turn. I endured the hug.

“I'm sorry baby!”

I knew better than to respond.

“She was drinking again, and I couldn't stop her from taking the car!”

He had killed her. I knew it. I could smell it on him.

I see it in his eyes, even now. This creature that I had to get away from. There was a cry from the room above. I ran up and put my hand over her mouth, forcefully. She quietened at once. She didn't cry often. She already knew that noise was bad. She looked at me now, and I laughed with her, quietly.

Before, there was only me. Now we are two.

I waited for the comforting sound of that first snore. I picked her up and walked down to the empty kitchen. There was no food. There wouldn't be. I didn't care. I wanted water. I drank and I drank. I gave her some too. She needed milk. I gave her water.

I walked back up. I decided to let the light in and opened all the curtains. The sunshine was glaring. 

When she died, I was almost happy. For her. I think of her now. She must have felt the same way I did. At the beginning there was only her – and then there was me. That's why she left me something.

The snoring had stopped. I walked down again, with her. He lay there, still sleeping. No more noise escaped him. The cheap bottle was replete on his breathless paunch.

I smiled.

In the beginning, there was only the two of us.

The problem I have with fairy tales is...

Nothing. I have no problem with fairy tales. I love fairy tales. I do have a problem with a bunch of people talking about the problem with fairy tales:

"Fairy tales tell our daughters to believe that a man will rescue them. Fairy tales create a baseline for determining beauty. Fairy tales this and fairy tales that."

I'll tell you what, fairy tales are simple and lovely stories that interpreted the right way can show people that there is a wonderful world out there, if we can just reach out for it.

Now, many would argue that the big-eyed, blonde hair princess stereotype the concept of beauty. I beg to differ. The princess characters are beautiful more because of their personalities. So why not focus on that. Let's see, strength of character, sense of loyalty, a will to persevere, the ability to learn from mistakes, humility, grace and selflessness. Aren't these what we should be focusing on?

Oh, all these tales, or most of them have heroes. And yes, they often seem to rescue maidens caught up in a whirlwind of events. But stop a minute. Are not the tales more about finding love and friendship, true love and true friendship? Is it not more about reaching out to the people closest to your heart? Is it not the culmination of the characters true strength that results in them finding love? Yes, perhaps the answer is that simple. Sure, fairy tales are about love and pretty things. They are also about characters with strong foundations, choices and life in general.

It is not for us to judge these stories or write them off as a bad influence, it is for us to interpret them and engage the people we influence to see the beauty that is fairy tales. 

I am no psychologist. I am not even a parent creating reading hazards for my children. But I grew up loving (and still do) fairy tales. From sweet Cinderella, vibrant Belle, loyal Rapunzel, the extremely brave Ariel, to the patient Aurora (just to mention a few!), are heroines and their stories (and hundreds more)who have shown me the joys of different worlds, the depth and quality of character and beauty beyond materialism! I do not think that a man will rescue me from my problems. I am independent and have a will to succeed. I like to do creative things - Belle made me want to read, Cinderella made me want to make pretty things, Rapunzel made me less vain about my hair, Ariel - Ariel taught me about the ups and downs of life and Aurora taught me to be patient!(Again this is to mention a few!) I do not make friends based on looks, or judge based on skin colour or hair length!So forgive me, but I will stick to reading fairy tales, enjoying them and sharing their splendour!