Before she knew it, Cindy was on stage with the other pretty young things. She was a natural. Her sweeping and swabbing had toned every muscle in her body and the judges had to call in the riot police during the swimsuit round.

Cindy, the fetching young orphan, becomes a rich and famous cover girl in author Rupa Gulab’s reinvention of the popular cinders to castle fairy tale.

Once upon a time, there lived a fetching young orphan called Cindy. She shared a home with her stepmother and stepsisters who were as nice to her as stepfamilies can be. They made her give them room service meals, sweep and swab till not a speck of dust was visible through a microscope and do the usual odd jobs like threading their moustaches and administering bikini waxes.

One day, there was a flurry of excitement at home because the Prince announced that the Ms Planet contest would be held in the castle’s ballroom. Cindy did so want to go instead of watching it on TV but her stepfamily laughed cruelly at her and said servants were not invited. They went on a series of fad diets (Fit for Life, Herbal Life, General Motors, Atkins and South Beach, to name a few) to shed their excess pounds. Unfortunately, they weren’t very successful, and on the night of the ball they had to squeeze themselves into their wildly expensive designer wear. One of them even ripped the bodice apart when she sneezed and raved and ranted till Cindy hit upon the idea of putting it right with safety pins, just like a daring Versace original.

After they sailed out leaving behind wafts of Estée Lauder, a sorely disappointed Cindy wept buckets (three and a half, to be precise) till there was a knocking at the door. She prayed that it would be her fairy godmother but it turned out to be a vacuum cleaner salesman. Cindy got a flash of inspiration: she asked him for a free demo and got the house spick and span before her stepfamily returned. Then she packed him off and got ready for the Ms Planet ball.

Wearing a crisply starched apron over her clothes, she entered the palace through the back door and introduced herself as one of the cocktail waitresses on duty for the do. Armed with a tray of smoked oysters on crackers, she circled the crowd clockwise and anticlockwise, taking good care to avoid her stepfamily. Several times she looked up to see the Prince staring at her with great interest and felt her heart thud violently against her ribcage.

After Cindy had completed a few rounds with her tray, the Prince brazenly approached her and offered his services as her agent. He practically ordered her to participate in the contest since her body and her looks (in that order) made her a sure-fire winner. She eagerly agreed and was then escorted to the green room where international make-up artists, hairdressers and designers worked their magic.

Before she knew it, Cindy was on stage with the other pretty young things. She was a natural. Her sweeping and swabbing had toned every muscle in her body and the judges had to call in the riot police during the swimsuit round. But her biggest success occurred during the question round: when asked to name the person she admired most in the world, she promptly said it was Mr Clean, her favourite detergent mascot, because he got deep-rooted stains out of the fabric of the world.

There was a stunned silence and then everyone in the audience got to their feet and applauded because it was such a pleasant change from Mother Teresa and Joan of Arc. The moment her name was announced as the winner, Cindy suddenly realised that she had left the iron on at home and rushed off the stage leaving one mock alligator leather slipper, but no forwarding address behind, in her haste.

The next day, all the papers on the planet had her on the cover. An international hunt was on. Prada even sponsored a Hunt the owner of the slipper contest. The Prince, however, decided to do a spot of detective work on his own. He went from door to door with the slipper, claiming that the person who fit into it would be richly rewarded.

Meanwhile, Cindy was being force-fed French fries, full cream milk, cheese, chocolates, red meat and carbs by her stepfamily as punishment for participating in the contest and having such a beautiful body. The Prince came knocking just as they were cramming a double cheeseburger down her throat. He instantly recognised her and rushed to her rescue by gallantly shoving his finger down her throat.

After ordering the stepfamily to mop up the mess on the carpet, he took Cindy’s hand, gazed deeply into her eyes and said, “I’d love to marry you.” Her eyes lit up till he added, “But I’m gay and in love with a designer. All I can offer you is a contract as an international supermodel.” She accepted and became a rich and famous cover girl. Thereafter, she released a video called The Household Chores Workout, which knocked Jane Fonda and Cindy Crawford off the top of the celebrity exercise charts and became even richer. So she lived happily ever after, dating Formula 1 drivers, Hollywood actors and ageing rock stars even though she couldn’t marry her Prince.

Moral: Not all Princes become Kings. Some become Queens.