Friday, May 20, 2011

At His Majesty’s Service

He was a simple lad with some would-do talents. He caught the fancy of a lesser prince when royalty visited his village. He ended up an important but never-the-less a minor king. Now nearing ninety, though no longer the reigning king, he still retains enough royal grace and the sting too. The exteriors are silken. The talk, the faculty he is still in nearly full possession of, is almost the same. The walk – very little of which remains, is not too bad. The manners – well, the king still clings to the old folly, that he has the divine right. The way he arranges things on his table and elsewhere in his room, he considers as an infallible divine orderliness whereas it appears to me as pet mannerisms of an old man.

The rod – yes, he has a bit of it still. Many of his junior peers would still strike some blows for him. His name kindles respect among many, most of whom had lived away from him or lived with him for short periods. The scepter – he wants to be known as just. Tries to couch his likes and dislikes in a lofty package.

Loyalty, the heady drug the king injects his subjects with, which makes them ready to die for him, ready to be there in passive alertness, which makes the king stand apart from rest of men around him. He tries it still.

He had inherited the king’s robes. Done some justice to them. It is wearing thin now. Will he ever get wise to the simple joys and sorrows of his true common self? We can only wait and hope!

Arogya Bhavan
4.55 p.m. 24 Nov. 2008

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