Unlike everyone else in Fairyland, things were going great for Cinderella. From growing up with her stepfamily, covered in cinders, to ruling over her own little pocket of queendom. Alas, the Prince had died. A tragedy, really. He’d tripped on one of her blue glass slippers, tumbled straight out of the palace window, and, well, that had been that. So much for happily ever after. Social media had been abuzz with gossip for months after.
PAH!
But Cinderella was happy. She hadn’t particularly wanted to marry the Prince. Or actually marry at all. But what was one to do but go with the flow? He hadn’t been a bad husband, just a little vain and flighty. C’mon, who marries a woman after one dance? And what if he had met other women with tiny feet before her?
But no complaints. Cinderella had her Fairy Nani, who had retired from magic, except for a few spells here and there to enchant Cinderella when she was bored. Mice stayed mice. And pumpkins used to be pumpkins, to be turned into sabjis or soups. And she was no longer in danger of reliving that humiliating moment when she found herself sitting on a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight.
Never again. Mainly because pumpkins had gone extinct.
Cinderella brushed her ashy hair for the 100th time and smiled at herself in the mirror. ‘Looking good,’ she winked at herself. As she wafted down to her throne room, a page came running and said, ‘Your Highness, Your Highness. Did you hear?’ She stopped and pointed at the window.
Cinderella raised an eyebrow at the page. ‘Page 42, calm down! Where’s the forest fire?’ She smiled at the girl kindly.
Page 42 swallowed nervously. ‘Umm, Your Highness, there’s a Twittering Troll here, for you.’ She again pointed at the window.
‘Who is the troll from?’ Cinderella snapped. All that time by the fireplace in her father’s house had made Cinderella have a quick, hot temper. It rose as quickly as it fell.
‘It’s from, oh, it’s from…’ The page twisted her hands in alarm. Cinderella turned towards the window and scowled at the Twittering Troll.
He waved his club, and then stared dully as it slipped out of his warty hands. He dug into his ear and retrieved a gross-looking waxy scroll. ‘Do you think,’ he grunted. ‘Cinderella has something to do with all this changing climate? #FossilFuel #Cinder=Carbon, get it, get it? LOL.’ It was from No White.
The troll belched loudly, picking up his club and thumping away, leaving a seething Cinderella behind.
‘How dare she,’ Cinderella cried, her voice rising along with her temper. Her green eyes flashed with anger. ‘How dare she!’ She stomped into her throne room, glared at the sentries and ministers and swooshed up to her throne. ‘You…’ she said, pointing at one of the sentries. ‘Get Fairy Nani. NOW!’
Two sentries ran out faster than the others.
Fairy Nani flew in two minutes, six seconds later, looking displeased. She had been watching a rerun of her favourite show, which involved six friends and a coffee shop, and just as one of them had ordered pizza with anchovies, she had been summoned. Grumpily, she stared at Cinderella over her spectacles, and her translucent blue-silver wings fluttered menacingly as she folded her arms over her soft belly. ‘What now, Cinderella? Why are you angry…’ She didn’t add ‘again’ but she muttered it under her breath.
‘THEY’RE SAYING I’M RESPONSIBLE!’
Excerpted with permission from When Fairyland Lost Its Magic, published by Harper Collins Children's Books (November 2023, Rs 499).
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