My Cinderella Wears Caligae

It was a hot summer afternoon in Bangalore. I was in a rush to reach Indiranagar and, after a long negotiation with an auto-rickshaw driver, finally managed to get in. Just as I settled down, another young woman slipped into the seat beside me.
She was all decked up in a blue party gown, her hair neatly done, her makeup subtle. Only her shoes felt out of place,they didn’t quite match the rest of her attire. They looked sturdy, almost practical,built more for walking than for a ballroom.
“Can we share the auto, please?” she asked hesitantly. “I’ll get down before the Indiranagar bus stand. I’m in a hurry. We can split the fare.”
“Sure,” I replied.
Trying to make conversation, I smiled and asked, “Costume party?”
“I’m Cinderella today,” she said instantly, returning the smile. Then, after a brief pause, she added softly, “But I have somewhere more important to be.”
As we spoke, I learned she was from Mangalore and worked at a well-known IT firm. She was calm and composed, her bright, sparkling eyes outshining even the shimmer of her dress.
Soon, we reached Indiranagar. She paid her share and got down. I expected her to head toward a café or a club. Instead, she walked toward an old building with broken black iron gates.
As she pushed the gate open, a group of children rushed towards her,laughing, calling out, all dressed in colorful costumes. She bent down to their height, her gown brushing the dusty ground, her mismatched shoes steady against it.
The auto had already started moving, but I leaned out just enough to catch the name on the fading board:
St. Mary’s Blessing Home.
For a moment, I sat there, watching the scene fade behind me.
Had I just met a real-life Cinderella?
And perhaps it is time we let go of fragile glass slippers,embrace sturdier caligae,and walk forward without waiting for magic. Maybe the modern Cinderella doesn’t wait for a fairy godmother.
Maybe she becomes one.