Maree—‘I will take over here because he is going to be in there a long time and besides I don’t think there is a camera hanging over my head. I don’t have to talk as if I am a movie director explaining a scene to an actor which in this case is always my Boss – His Royal Highness, Prince Ravee Singhjee. Paranoid and schizophrenic and many other things rolled into one frivolous, pampered and flirtatious ghost ridden self.
Me? Oh I am a happy soul. What else can I be? I am lucky to be alive. An orphan educated by a procession of American, European and Indian nuns a bit like his royal highness but only in my own poverty stricken way. I always touch my Bible to ward off bad luck and thank my stars. I would have been a rag-picker or a prostitute if my unknown benefactor had not left me wisely at the footsteps of the orphanage. I have a core of Christianity encapsulated by all the religious influences in the orphanage. The Hindu gardener. The Muslim cook. The Sikh bus driver.’
‘Sister Angela knowing my bookish inclinations thought she was doing me a favour by sending me off as a secretary who later also became a driver for this royal personage who calls himself a writer. He did indeed become famous for a short time when he wrote lyrics for Punjabi songs when he lived in Lipatia as a young man. He shifted to Chandigarh where an English Ghost grabbed him. Bhader blames Ravee and says, ‘you must have piddled under a banyan tree.’
Sample from Maree and the Prince–