And none lived happily ever after

Twice upon a time, there was a king, or at least someone who was supposed to be a king. But he was under the spell of the Queen [or, hold on, was that the aloof lady with the dwarves doing her every bidding? Well actually that is another story, so let's continue with the tale]. Once upon the first time, the people wanted the Queen [okay, let's keep the dwarves in low profile for the time being, as is fitting for this royal family] to sit on the throne, but the Queen, giving heed to her magical inner voice, put her sagacious, trusty, old nobleman on the throne. The old man reigned well and everyone thought they would all live happily ever after. The people were happy, the peasants rejoiced and the rich men of the countryside too were contented.

Then…

Once upon the second time, the sagacious, trusty old nobleman sat on the throne again. But this time, the air was not all salubrious. The Queen's dwarves were getting impatient, having been prevented from their traditional work of digging in dark, secretive coalmines and filling their sacks with jewels and gold. The Queen, indulgent of her dwarves, gave them free rein. And as the dwarves made merry, the sagacious, trusty old man on the throne also decided to keep his eyes closed. The Queen came one day, saw the old man on the throne with his eyes closed, and put a spell on him to ease his pain. Soon after, Prince Charming walked by, saw the old man asleep on his chair and decided this was all utter nonsense. So he put the old man in a glass coffin, and put a notice on it that said, "Sleeping Beauty". At once, the lights dimmed, the riches turned to tatters, the gold became base metal, and around what was once the magnificent UPAlace, there grew a great unpenetrable forest of gnarly trees whose branches looked like bony, greedy, grasping fingers of two hundred evil politicians. The entire UPAlace fell into a deep slumber.

Into this great, unpenetrable forest rode the knight in saffron armour. The knight, hailed as a hero by his people and by himself, promised deliverance. He was dressed in beautifully-tailored robes [though none had told him that the mettle of his armour had never been tested in true battle, though that again is another story]. And strangely, the sword he carried seemed a part of his tongue, but he used it adroitly to cut down anything that came in his way.

The knight fought his way to the great portals of the now decrepit UPAlace. He knew he was close to success now. He remembered what his mother, now long forgotten, had told him when he was just a lad sitting beside the embers of his tea shop. "You will be king one day," she had intoned. His saffron fairies had swooped down on hearing this and touched his tea kettle with their magic wand, changing it into a sceptre. Then they had touched his khaki shorts with their magic wand and lo and behold, it turned into a snappy, short-sleeved kurta set.

The ambitious knight stood at the door of the great, decrepit palace. He was about to cut down the locks on the door with his tongue-sword, when he was distracted by a strange light that seemed very much like limelight. He saw that the light was being reflected off a dusty mirror hanging on the gates. Remembering the tales of yore, he stood before the mirror, and, his voice trembling with excitement, shouted, "Mirror, mirror on the door, am I the one who is going to soar?" As he waited, the mirror seemed to brighten. And after that all he could see was a roiling sea of black clouds, none of which had a silver lining.

Free Run is a fortnightly look at alternate realities joel.rai@bsmail.in