It had been over nine years since the day she handed over the reins of her kingdom to the gentle-as-a-lamb Silent one. While he kept busy with his 1300 speeches, her council of wise men turned the flying Maharaja into a sitting Pauper, improved the education system and industry to generate more unemployment, introduced legislation to make rotten foodgrain even more scarce, gave the economy a Greek makeover and bestowed upon countrymen the right to be silent. She had assigned the wisest one, Sir Foot-in-Mouth to groom the Prince to become the king of beehives and Boss of small things. He had been sent to the homes of the poorest of the poor, made to lick their runny daal clean, sleep on their charpais and swat the same mosquitoes. He was made to give fiery speeches and convince his ignorant subjects that he was the right one. He rode far and wide, to sing the greatness of his Mom’s reign. Such were his convincing powers that his subjects promptly elected other corrupt leaders to steal their own money.
What greater way to greatness than letting him fumble and bumble, make a royal fool of himself and be applauded for it! The council of wise men sang the Prince’s praise, danced around him and stuck out their tongues at the Silent one.
Sadly, the path to greatness is also strewn with old farts who love walking out of the Parliament at every opportunity. The most painful thorn was the evil chieftain of G-State, Sir Finding NaMo. Like an annoying Puppy meant to be run over by a speeding BMW, he was always trying to snap at the Prince’s delicate bum.
The secret survey came up with such startling secret findings that it broke the Queen’s heart like a delicate porcelain vase falling from a great height. It stated that the number of her kingdom’s subjects who wanted the Prince as their Clown King were exactly equal to the number of people who thought that the Silent one was the greatest ruler of all.
She quietly walked into her secret chambers and started counting the gold coins she had accumulated, to make the greatest investment in her biggest investment – her Rising Son. Like any doting Mom, she wanted the best for him irrespective of what a billion people may say. So, she made a quick purchase online. She bought Samoa Islands, an idyllic getaway in the Pacific and declared him the King of Coconuts.
Coconuts make ideal subjects who mind their own business and don’t stress much about others, being hard nuts to crack, yet tender and sweet inside. An utopia where no man or woman goes hungry because there’s plenty of fish for all. And her Prince was terribly fond of Sushi. She sighed in relief – he could now spend the rest of his life in his Speedos and not worry about living up to any idiot’s expectations.
Later in the evening, she called her council of wise men, Sir Salmon Khushi, Sir Foot-in-Mouth, Sir Capslock Sibal and the Silent one, to her Royal Chambers. With tears in her eyes and a song in her heart, she shared her good news with them. As a token of her appreciation for their lifelong loyalty, she had especially handpicked them to accompany their suitable king to Samoa islands. The news was greeted with pin drop silence, followed by loud thuds as the heavyweights hit the floor. With a Monalisa smile playing on her lips she said – I know you are fainting with delirious joy. I have even more! Oscar will be greeting you at the airport with coconuts and garlands, dressed in a grass skirt.
My Happy Prince is now happier on The Unreal Times