Kishore Singh: Prodding the Prince

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Are you supposed to genuflect before royalty? Bow? Or, in the Indian tradition, prostrate on the floor? Sadly, Prince Michael of Kent puts all such speculation to rest as he extends his hand to shake mine.

Disappointingly trite after all that hoo-ha about the Queen being miffed because some lowly commoner had dared to touch her shoulder and steer her into a banquet hall some years ago.

But then these are sad times, when the Prince's own daughter is dating one of the natives and might even marry him despite her mother Princess 'Pushy' Michael's disapproval of such mongrel co-habitation.

Alas, the Prince will not comment on such activities as his daughter's matrimonial prospects, or those of his cousins Charles and Camilla.

"The Prince will not respond to personal questions," I've been warned before being granted an audience "for seven-ten minutes, right?" Right luv, but what is one to speak to a Prince about if not his personal life?

But the Prince has several agendas, not the least of which is his concern for the tiger population in Ranthambhore and the human population in India, more or less in that order.

For the former, he's part of the foundation that helps the park financially, diverting a little away from the tigers to help maintain a hospital and a primary school in the village.

For the latter, once again, he's part of another foundation that's devoted to discussing the ills of AIDS in even the the smallest villages.

But royal blood will be imperial. A room has been set aside for the interview, but lunch has been long and leisurely and well washed with champagne, requiring a quick visit to the washroom.

But the Prince cannot be kept waiting for such delicate matters, and assistants are despatched with summons. "The Prince has arrived," someone rat-a-tats on the door. Oh, well.

And princes will have their way. The piped music is ordered shut; he sits with his back to the window. "I may reply on the Prince's behalf," warns his aide, indicating again that the conversation is to be general.

Severely limited "" who wants to discuss tigers or AIDS after a lunch of pressed duck and enzee lamb chops? "" I ask His Highness about his relationship with India.

"I have a great deal of affection for it," the Prince mumbles, "and admiration because of the potential of business you have here. There is a good deal we can learn from it."

"Really," I ask tartly, "the nation of shopkeepers will learn about trade from us?"

But the Prince isn't affronted. "You have a flair for business," he confides, "and independent thinking." Indians from India and other parts of the world "" he mentions Uganda "" who set up corner shops have grown their businesses through entrepreneurships.

"Indians in England are very self-effacing," he mentions.

But since I'm just a pesky reporter, he mentions other societies and trusts with which he's associated. "But what about India?" I ask again. "You have important aspects of your culture," the Prince condescends, "the best example being the English language which you speak more purely than we did in India fifty years ago."

"Is that because we've stagnated?" I ask, but a Prince will not be stopped by such lese majeste. "You've kept family values and a strong spiritual side," he concludes.

"Er," I probe, "any special friends in India?" "I have a lot of friends," the Prince responds austerely. "Such as?" I push, hoping to discover his views on his daughter's Anglo-Indian matrimonial alliance.

"He has," confirms his aide, "many friends who are personal and whom he does not wish to name," signalling the end of the interview.