The Royal story: A decade and counting…

The story begins in 2001…
The Information:
Yours truly got a call just a couple of hours after midnight from a friend. You never feel good getting a call before dawn, unless you’re in your prime teenage. The phone ring is always eerie (mobile phones were not in the range of entry-level job holders then), if you’ve just hit the best part of the sleep. And it was a male friend. Nothing friendly about the call, no greetings exchanged. A shock: “Did you hear about what happened at the palace?” Now you don’t expect a Royal palace to be a topic of ice breaker, that too, at such a time.
That’s enough to dispel thoughts about your friend being lunatic, because he’s a fellow journalist. Journalism is a serious business. A year into journalism – that too in the country’s best read English daily – makes you feel that you have to be an expert on whatever happens in the known universe (although I was primarily supposed to be know-all in Sports). The news was sketchy and we did not really figure out at the moment that we were talking of a massacre. The sleep, that had started only a few hours ago was nowhere in sight. After all, it was an issue about the Royals. And then you think, you were near the place of incident (Thamel), only a few hours ago. “How did I miss something then?”, a question makes rounds in your head. No answers.

A Royal Pain

Francis Joseph Charles I, Austrian monarch in early 20th century, said just after ascending the throne,” What should I do? I think the best thing is to order a new stamp to be made with my face on it.”
To yours truly, this explains what the Royals are. For whom, the most important thing is, of course, themselves. And history proves yours truly right, more often than not. One thing is for sure, the monarchy – world over – was never busy thinking about people. For the Royal bunch, it was always, I, me and myself…
And the people… err… the subjects suffered.