Amalgamation

Once upon a time, in a land not far from here, lived two people who couldn’t be more unlike. There were tales spread far and wide and there was an entire section of humour dedicated strictly to the impossibility of them getting along. Reality and Fairytales. They never agreed on anything and often disregarded the other’s way of life. Tired of this endless fight, they agreed that the only way they could decide who was truly superior was to go out in the real world and let the people decide. So they entered young impressionable minds and old, resigned imaginations.

Reality and Fairytales. They never agreed on anything and often disregarded the other’s way of life.

For children, fairytales held more significance than fruitless dreams, fantasies and a rather satisfying pastime.

Reality, no more than a concept they would ‘understand when they got older’, a foreign dark world which fairytales relentlessly rivalled.

Fairytales told them several things during these years. It was a simpler time then. Good persevered, evil was brought to justice, the prince always got the princess and all stories had a happy ending. The promise of Santa along with the fear of Pinocchio’s nose was enough to make them behave for days at an end. No matter what, there was always the correct thing to do and the only thing that was to be done was to have the willingness and ability to do it.

Childhood innocence — a classic example of a battle in which Fairytales have emerged victorious since centuries.

However, winning a battle does not qualify to winning the war. Reality fought back. Childhood turned to adolescence, shattering the simplicity of the time which adults worked so hard to protect. It was then that the people were made to choose. On the one hand was the idealistic and beautiful world of fairytales and on the other was the bitter reality. Polls were repeatedly taken and decisions were always inconclusive.

Until a point I was forced to choose otherwise, I held on to my precious crown until it shattered with my glass slipper. The clock struck 12. The bell rang in my ear as Santa deserted me for yet another year. As it turned out, Red Riding Hood wouldn’t have survived the wolf in the real sense. Fairytales were the pleasing construction of imagination and wishful thinking. Reality, however, seemed like the truth. How was I to choose?

I realized I didn’t have to. Black and white was just a game Reality and Fairytales devised to make us believe there needed to be a clear difference between choices. They were so consumed in their fight with each other, they forgot about the possibility of getting along. They forgot the difference between conflict and compromise.

Fairytales teach us that despite our circumstances we should stand up for what we believe in. Make us believe in the possibility of happiness in the life of a pauper before we turn into royalty. Impress upon us the importance of imagination in times that seem bleak. Most importantly, they conserve hope despite predicaments. Hope, which is the very essence of Reality’s existence.

At the brink of adulthood, Fairytales and Reality ended a long drawn out war with a truce.

As Reality had predicted, it wasn’t without consequences and as fairytale had predicted they lived happily ever after.