Raja means “King,” and in that state, the title of Raja was of course reserved for the owner of the state. Even the queen’s husband was not called “Raja,” but only “Prince,” “Raj-kumar,” just as poor Philip in England is called “Prince Philip”…not even “King.” Yet strangely he is the only man there who looks like a king. Nor does the queen of England look like a queen, nor does poor Prince Charles look like the proverbial Prince Charming.
The only man who looks like a king is not called a king, he is only called “Prince” Philip. I feel sorry for him. The reason is that he does not belong to the same blood line, and it is blood that determines everything, at least in their idiotic world. Otherwise blood is blood. In the laboratory, even a king or queen’s blood will not show up as anything different.
Both of you here are doctors, and one is a nurse, and the fourth is, although not a doctor or a nurse, almost both together, without a certificate, of course. You can all understand that blood cannot be the determining factor. Queen Elizabeth has the right blood – right, not according to the scientist, but according to the idiots. Charles is her son, at least fifty percent; he has the heritage. Philip is a foreigner, and just to console him they call him “Prince.”
In the same way, in that small state at that time, the woman was the head and she was called the queen, rani, but there was no raja. Her husband was only a prince “Raj-kumar.” Naturally she asked my grandmother “Why do you call this boy of yours Raja?” You will be surprised to know it was really illegal in that state to give the name Raja to anybody. My grandmother laughed and said, “He is the king of my heart, and as far as the law is concerned, we will soon leave this state, but I cannot change his name.”
Even I was surprised when she said we would soon be leaving the state…just to save my name? That night I said to her, “Nani are you mad? Just to save this stupid name…any name will do, and in private you could call me ‘Raja.’ There is no need for us to leave.”
She said, “I feel in my very guts that we will soon have to leave this state. That’s why I risked.”
And that is what happened. This incident happened when I was eight, and after just one year we had left that state forever…but she never stopped calling me Raja. I changed my name, just because Raja – “the king” – seemed so snobbish, and I didn’t like to be laughed at by everybody in school, and moreover I never wanted anyone else to call me Raja except my grandmother. It was a private affair between us.
But the queen was offended by the name. How poor these people are, the kings and the queens, the presidents, the prime ministers…what a lot! Yet they are powerful. They are idiotic to the maximum, yet powerful also to the maximum. It is a strange world.
I said to my grandmother, “As far as I understand, she is not only offended by my name, she is jealous of you.” I could see it so clearly that there was no question of doubt. “And,” I told her, “I am not asking you whether I am right or wrong.” In fact that determined my way for my whole life.