2 Minute Worlds

When we were kids, stories were magic. Grandma said, “Once there was a king…” and that was it. We believed. Didn’t matter which country, what job he had, whether he paid taxes or not. Kings were kings, princes were princes, and princesses always looked like they’d just walked out of a shampoo commercial.

We never interrupted. Never asked for background checks. We just sat there wide-eyed, thinking, Wow, there’s a palace somewhere with golden staircases and a lot of mangoes.

But today’s kids? Different species altogether. Start a story: “Once upon a time there was a king, he had three sons—”

And immediately they’re like: “What were their names?”

Names? I don’t know. No one ever asked Grandma. She could’ve said Prince One, Two, and Three and we’d have swallowed it whole. But now you invent some names—Ali, Bilal, Kamran—and try to move on.

Then comes: “Didn’t they have a sister?”

Okay fine, suddenly there’s a princess. Welcome to the story, Madam Princess.

But the interrogation doesn’t stop. Next: “Which class were they in?”

“Did they go to school in a van, or did their dad drop them off?”

“How much pocket money did they get?”

By this point, you’re not telling a fairy tale anymore, you’re writing their family census. You give up, hand the kid a mobile, and say: “Here, play Candy Crush. That’s your bedtime story.”

Now whenever kids ask, “Can you tell us a story?” it really means: “Pass the phone, uncle.”

The king, the queen, the prince, the princess—forgotten. The only royalty they care about now is Clash of Clans.