Confound the Cinderellas and the Snow Whites who reign our infantile imagination! Those are the ones advising us to wait for the right man, one day, he would come galloping on a white horse and "claim" you. Till then, sit tight, learn all the activities that might help you serve him (better known as "accomplishments" in a girl) and when he arrives, thank your stars while the "happily ever after" scrolls daintily up from the bottom of the screen. Sighs! no one talks of the after scenes, because then fantasy risks getting real, and reality is ugly, often "fantastically counter-productive", if I may. Anyways, there are instances of what happens after the "happily ever after", but sadly, the issue is dealt in hushed voices and furious whispers! No one prepares you to bear the impact when reality strikes. You are left to smart under the blow, and fend for yourself. When you actually are able to grip the monster by its horns, you realize, all this while what you expected to be a fairy with a halo and sylph like wings, is actually this horrid thing staring right into your "charmed" eyes. I have my heartfelt sympathies if it has happened to you, you have my shoulder to cry upon, and I'll be more than glad to gently pat your fantasy-ridden little head which is in a tumult keeping the presentiments in mind. You have my awed applause, and reverence, if you lend me your shoulder, because I am one of those many women, who wait and pine away for a galloping horse than never appears in my line of sight, for a call that never comes, for a man that never existed. I am one of those many women, who stay enshrined in an ivory castle, looking out the window for a Lancelot or an Odysseus to come and "claim" me (as if I am showpiece on a mantle, waiting to be claimed), and weave my future dreams on an enchanted weaver, and live a life doubly removed from reality. Maybe thats why it hurts so much to fall without the safety net, from the lofty heights of imagination and fantasy, on the hard hitting reality.
But then, when you are done whining and cursing Cinderella and Snow White for their good luck and for duping you into the make-belief of the shared good-luck of all woman folk, there comes a moment of revelation, that it all ends when you put your foot down and squash it under your heel. You only wait until you wish to. Penelope was stupid to have waited for her husband fighting the decade long Trojan War, and rejecting suitors! What was her lot, after all? A discontented husband who found that the youthful bride he left before the war is now aged, and to be fair lets grant that was a hard hitting reality too (why must men not have their share of weird fantasies?). So he feels he's being caged and trapped and finally sets on to another decade long sea voyage, and poor Penelope, waits again!
I think, we are a result of the choices we make. If today I choose not to wait any longer, and plunge head long into life, and take it as it comes, who stops me from living. Why must I long for a man to come? I'd rather anxiously wait, if at all I have to, for the people I am yet to meet as life progresses. Its astoundingly strange how the unnoticed advent of people influences our life, and its often pleasing on a hindsight to gauge the changes that occurred when we weren't aware of them. How pleasant to dwell all night long into those mysterious forces that work strangers into our life fabric, knitting together two threads into one. Waiting, or anticipating robs the sheen. Doesn't even the quantum theory says something on similar lines, observation alters the result? Well then, its time you, me and every Penelope here takes the Grand Fall and while we are mid way, lets shriek, lest fill our stifled lungs with gushing air, and enjoy what it means to be free ... from all the waiting, weaving senseless dreams and feverishly believing in them, freedom from inhibitions, from moral codes that apply to only us, lets for once, tell the men what they miss when they are terribly late!
As for me, when I have children and they happen to be daughters, I am reading them no fairy tales, so that they harbour no silly notions of white horses that turn out to be lame mules, of Knights in Shining Armours who are no better than retards in tin foils, and no ivory castles to incarcerate them! I'd rather tell them how women made their own choices and did not grudge the consequences that didn't turn out well, because at the end, its something they wanted to do at a particular time, and they did it! Nothing else matters! Absolutely nothing!