CINDERELLA WITH A TWIST

Meera looked at the luxury cars that sped by, and the regal princesses that got down from them in their high heels and low-neck dresses. Some wore floor-length gowns that sparkled in the shining lights of the hotel lobby, while others wore chick knee-length dresses, that showed their bare muscular legs.

She looked at her own rags, torn at places, and often held together by mismatching cloth pieces. She rubbed the skin on her cheeks and dirt clogged underneath her nails. How smooth those girls' skin must be, she envied. I'm so dirty and brown. She scorned herself. At 18, you are nowhere near those rich girls.

Her shelter, a tin sheet held by four poles and covered with used curtain cloth, was just a few meters away from the five-star hotel. Meera often peeked in from far to see the fairytale life inside it. But within her own overcrowded home, things were stray and strewn carelessly, and nothing was shiny and neat. How she wished her life could transform.

Living the fairytale life, just for one day, would be something to die for, she thought.

As if some superpower had heard her, a shining light appeared beside her and waved its wand around her. Immediately she had a silver glittering gown on her and a matching tiara on her head. With another wave of the wand, her face glowed as if scrubbed with the best of the face creams. It was no longer brown and dirty. Even her hands and feet and the whole body looked so fair and smelled nice.

With another wave of the wand, her hair was done with a wavy touch, and she had a matching pair of silver sandals and a purse.

She looked up at the light, trying to make out the outline of an angel. Today she was the Cinderella she had read in the tattered stories books that her school gave her when she was young and happier.

And a voice from the light whispered to her, "Go in, go into the hotel and enjoy the evening. It's seven in the evening now. You have time till midnight before which you must be back."

And the light disappeared, and a gleaming black Benz car stood in front of her. She got in and was taken straight to the lobby of the hotel.

She tried to behave just as she had seen the other ladies do. She got out when the security guard opened her car door, nodded her head in acknowledgment, and climbed up the hotel stairs with confidence. 

Inside the ballroom, she was dazed by the many chandeliers that made the hall look like a palace. The waiters served hot cheese balls, sandwiches, chicken lollipops, tandoori paneer cubes, and more. A variety of juices and other beverages flowed from the dispensers and the jugs. There was more food than what her whole family had eaten in their lifetime. 

She was ravenous and wanted to gorge on everything available there, even slip some into her bag to take home. But instinct told her that that was not how beautiful, cultured ladies behaved. And so, with much effort, she restrained herself, politely taking a plate, refusing second or third helpings, and chewing slowly so that it made her look perfect on etiquette, and the food lasted longer as well.

She looked on eagerly at the events going on. It was a cultural evening program. There were panel discussions on various topics going on, film stars were there promoting their latest movies, and a lot of budding politicians made their way in and out.

She settled down to watch a discussion between an eminent writer, a film critic, and a businesswoman. They were discussing the topic - How to improve the participation of women in the economic sphere. Half an hour into the session, she was surprised when her hand shot up when the question-answer round began. Her voice and knees trembled as she stood up, the mic held firmly in her right hand to ask the question - "Why do we never discuss men's roles when talking about women's empowerment?".

The panelists were floored by the way she put the question. She was appreciated and applauded. 

She attended some of the other sessions also and impressed the panelists and the audience with the depth of her arguments and questions. She was also surprised by how much she could think as well as speak with confidence and boldness.

Many members of the audience approached her for casual talk and in-depth discussions, and she handled them coolly. She was helping herself to a plate loaded with fluffy naans and rotis, and the most aromatic curries, when she heard a clock tick somewhere. That's when she remembered the fairy's warning. Your magic will wane by midnight. It's prudent to be back before that if you don't want to be thrown out unceremoniously.

She turned around to try to find the clock in the room. It was right up there above food counter no: 4, and the long, minute hand and the short, hour hand were inching their way towards 12. A few more minutes. She thought she'd gobble some food. Almost immediately she decided against it. Food was not everything. She had gained so much this evening, she didn't want to spoil it all with the last-minute hustle and acting like a glutton.

So, she politely kept the plate back, nodded, and smiled at people who greeted her on her way back and made a graceful exit in the same car that had brought her in. She didn't want to be another Cinderella, losing her glass slippers.

A few minutes out of the gate, the clock struck twelve, leaving her in her former self, near her dilapidated home.

But what she carried back with her was a resolve to be successful, no matter what, just so that all those luxuries that she'd had for the last few hours could be commonplace in her life. And above all, she loved the respect and aura that she could command if successful, and that was something she wanted for a lifetime. No hurdles could stop her now. And no more self-pity, only a steely resolve to conquer the world.