Two Fairies

I had turned six, my cousin Peggy was nine. Our families were invited for the opening of a heritage hotel near Jaipur. The road to the palace was narrow with vast cover of mustard fields on both sides. Peggy drew stars on the foggy glass window of the car. When her hands got too cold she put them in the pockets of my jacket.

The hotel was on top of a hill. The outer walls were festooned with bright marigold flowers and inside the lobbies were lined with glittering Christmas trees. Everything from furniture to tea spoons was expensive. The dining area was buzzing with chatter. And Peggy in her frill frock, camouflaged perfectly with the shiny red floor of the hall.

The elders sat at some distance from where we were playing and a beautifully dressed woman came with a bowl of candies. She was giving them to all the kids. We both took one each and the woman remarked, good girls.

When she left I asked Peggy, is she the princess?

No, she is not wearing a tiara, she said and tore the toffee wrapper. Come let’s look at the Christmas trees.

And that’s when I saw them hanging. Tiny fairy dolls, with thin nacreous gowns. All the ornamentations on the tree were glorious, but we were awestruck by the fairies. I gulped down my candy. Peggy like always noticed my wonder and said, you look like you have met the princess. Want one?

Candy?

No silly, one for you and one for me. She quickly plucked two fairies and put her hands in my jacket to warm.