A gift for the royal MIL

I''m not a Mumbai Dabbawalla, so I won''t be presenting a traditional Maharashtrian saree to Mrs Camilla Parker Bowles, the 57-year old bride-to-be. Nor will I give Prince Charles a Peshwa Pagdi embellished with pearls (heavens, no! What with those jug ears?). Instead, I''m seriously considering a gift for the Royal mum-in-law - the queen herself. And this is what I wish to give her: a crash-course at Ektaa Kapoor''s Saas-Bahu factory.Seriously. If a billion people can be taking their cues from such addictive soaps, maybe Britain''s rani could also learn a trick or two about bahu-management.
I''ll definitely check with Ektaa whether she has a slot for the coming season, if so, I shall register Elizabeth instantly. I mean, look at the way Her Majesty is behaving right now - it''s downright silly. She really shouldn''t be sulking and boycotting her own son''s wedding. Which calculating or cunning saas would do something so obvious? Ms Kapoor would write a far better script for Queenie, certainly a shrewder one. As of now, Lizzie is coming out smelling of dead rats not roses. Her behaviour is churlish and far from sporting. Maybe she treats her hounds and horses a whole lot better. Poor little Charlie Boy. He has waited for over 30 years to make an honest woman out of Camilla. And now mum decides to ruin it all by staying away from the nuptials. Tch! Tch!
In Ektaa''s book, this sort of transparent behaviour by a mother-in-law would be a no-no. MILs are supposed to be master strategists, always on top of the action, ready to strike, but not reveal their game plan so blatantly. Kapoor''s saas would do it differently. She''d first play super-martyr and get the world''s sympathy. She would fall ill at the opportune moment (life-threatening affliction, naturally), and then compel the defiant son to postpone the wedding. The Bahu-to-be, would counter plot and do something drastic.
In Camilla''s case, about the only drastic action I can visualise, is falling off a horse, and the horse breaking a leg. Now, that would definitely get the MIL''s attention. At this point, the glum groom would stage his own side show by disappearing from the face of the earth. Will he hide out in Argentina (and play a bit of polo incognito?). Or is he really and truly dead meat? Has an avalanche got him on a ski slope? Or is he in Mumbai, hanging with his newly-acquired dabbawalla pals?
With the world''s attention focused on these new developments, a fresh story graph would be introduced. The royal mum would heave her ample bosom and dispatch the King of Faux Pas (her consort), to iron things out with Royal Courtiers. He, of course, would make yet another royal mess, offend everybody and return sans solution.
Meanwhile, Camilla would call off the engagement, return the rock on her finger, and go back to shooting partridges in the company of her ex-husband. Taking that as a signal from the Rottweiler, queenie would recover miraculously and announce a statue at the Trafalgar Square in memory of her late daughter-in-law, Princess Diana. Hearing the news, our bonny Prince would surface at Heathrow with a gorgeous new blond on his arm. Incredulous subjects would gape and ask the sort of questions Brit tabloids love to front page.
Is it Diana''s double? A long-lost twin separated at birth? Only Camilla (and the Queen, of course) can tell for sure. The impostor is finally exposed. The blond turns out to be Paris Hilton shooting for a new reality TV show. The real Prince is found talking to the plants in his own backyard (nobody thought of looking for him there). The queen leaps out of her deathbed, gags Prince Philip, summons Camilla and Charles to the palace and performs the saat-pheras herself. The dabbawallas are most disappointed. The bride wears the Peshwa Pagdi, the groom opts for the saree. And they live happily ever after.