Maharaja in Mandi

Backtracking slightly, we had a one-day, one-night stopover in Mandi before Dharamshala. Mandi is a quiet, modest town where the Region’s Maharaja resides. There, we stayed at the Raj Mahal- a palace turned hotel…where the Region’s Maharaja resides. COOL! Chetan had also taken the liberty to organize dinner with His Highness. EVEN COOLER! But first, we met another interesting character whilst strolling around town:

He was the most defeated looking donkey I’d ever seen.

‘Deb, no! Don’t take a picture of the poor thing!’ Clo was horrified at the pathetic state of the donkey. Traffic flowed around it while it stood there static, wondering where the grass was. Cars honked, bicycles dinged... the donkey didn’t even blink. Then a huge bus came along. Unable to drive around it, the bus horn blared. The donkey’s ear twitched but still made no effort to move. The bus driver threw his hands up, put the bus into gear and rear-ended the donkey and STILL it only took a couple of steps. I expected it to lay down, roll on to its back and beg, ‘Please.’ Chetan explained that donkeys in India are equal to stray dogs. Once the owners are done with them, they simply abandon them. I don't get it; why wouldn't you want to save your ass? There are so many rogue, flea-infested donkeys roaming the streets and needless to say they’re treated with much less respect than their Moo-ing counterparts. I reckon you’d have to have done something real bad in your past life to come back as a donkey in India.

So, what does one do, say or expect when meeting a Maharaja? Ceremonious trumpets to announce his arrival? Bows and kissing of the feet? Dialogue through an interpreter who not only translates but censors inappropriateness?

We all sat in our best-dress in the lush garden restaurant, furnished with ornate stone tables and chairs adorned with velvet cushions. Before we’d all gone to get ready for dinner, Chetan gave us a short synopsis about His Highness:

Although his title remains, the Maharaja no longer holds official political power. But he still commands the respect of the people of the region. Because of his popularity, he is constantly consulted by the government to help make final decisions for passing laws and bills. There are dates and stuff to his reign and royal lineage…but I’m not so good at remembering those kinds of details.

As the tour group arrived for dinner in dribs and drabs, there was this old dude in a checkered short-sleeve shirt, sitting with Chetan at the end of the table, casually chatting away. I breezed on by, smiling politely with acknowledgement, saving my bigger, brighter smile for His Highness. Then Chetan called me back and introduced me to Mr. Sahib- the Maharaja of Himachal Pradesh. I was struck by the informality. The Maharaja held his hand out without rising from his seat and without implication that I should be bowing down or something. We all sat there around the dinner table with an air of awkwardness, all not knowing what do in the presence of royalty. And then Maharaja Sahib said:

‘I have a question of legality for you regarding where you are from.’ Everyone sat up ready to answer as best as they can.

‘Can a widow’s husband remarry his wife’s sister?’

‘That’ll be the sister-in-law…so yes, he can.’ I reasoned.

‘In the West, we can remarry whoever we want as long as they’re not blood related.’ Tom offered.

The Maharaja scratched his chin, ‘but…how can he remarry if he’s dead?’

There was a pause. And then we all threw our heads back in laughter and slapped our foreheads. A widow’s husband! Duh! The Maharaja had shattered the ice and everyone was put at ease. Fortunately for me, I thrive in social events that involve riddles and lame jokes. But unfortunately, the Maharaja has been around for longer and knew all the riddles I tried to tell:

‘If a plane crashes on the border of-‘

‘You can’t bury the survivors.’

‘Oh… alright then, how far can a dog-‘

‘Halfway!’

‘Oh…’ and so on and so forth.

But my shining moment came when I solved one of his riddles! All by myself! I’m so smat!

I really enjoyed Maharaja Sahib’s company; his presence was a non-dominating one, but he still knew how to capture attention with his lighthearted humour and down-to-earth attitude. I prefer that over trumpets and feet kissing any day.