Dear Mrs Windsor,

I write to you out of genuine concern about any embarrassment that your upcoming visit to India might cause. I am sure that you would like to put the best face on your trip, and would like it to pass without incident. Your humble Foreign Office suits are no doubt working overtime to ensure this, but they just don't have the training for this kind of misadventure. So I thought I should lend you a hand, and give you an Indian perspective.

Allow me to present your very own, very personal, one and only, traveller's guide to India. At no charge at all, if you should be concerned that this might make a dent in your massive feudal fortune. Is it really true that you are among the richest people on earth? Slavery and colonialism must have really profitable, eh? Not that it's your fault. Of course not. But I digress. Here's my guide:

If at all possible, you should remain in your castle. I've heard that English rulers are not used to exposure, and am concerned that you should suffer something serious. Why not send Mr Blair instead? India, unlike Britain, is a democracy both in spirit and letter, and he might have more success than you. At least he can mouth the usual platitudes about shared histories and democratic traditions, etc, stuff you couldn't say. Not that he would be right in saying it, I'm just guessing that a politician can lie better than you.

Incidentally, why are you going to India? I guess you invited yourself. I don't imagine anyone actually invited you. Although it is possible our nice PM did. He's very diplomatic, always polite and courteous. Very idle, too. A little like an English lord, you might say. Be sure to congratulate him on the 50th anniversary of our freedom. He sometimes forgets. And try to keep a straight face when you say it.

If, despite my caution, you do go to India, please take hubby along. He's a nice sort, unobtrusive, and smiles a lot, although it is not always clear why. And nobody can accuse him of ill-begotten wealth. Not directly, anyhow. A pity about Diana, you might have taken her along if things had turned out differently. Some folks say you don't really mourn her passing, but my condolences nevertheless.

Visit the President. He's a great man, the first untouchable President of our casteist society. It is usually no harm to drop in on the President, although no one has ever claimed that it is much use. He just stays in the background, boxing his shadow. Probably imagines himself knocking some MPs over, one can't blame him for wishing it. Perhaps you can compare Buckingham shadows with their New Delhi cousins. Shadows are all of the same race, you know.

The Indian government will organise a few flag-waving kids everywhere you go. Union Jack, naturally. Just wave back and smile, it's the right thing to do. More importantly, no one has thought of a better way to keep you occupied when you take off on jaunts like these.

Stay away from Amritsar. An old wives tale, which (since you are both old and a wife) I am sure you've heard tells it that a mean old mangy dog used to roam the streets there, killing children and women. Naturally, that has no bearing on your trip, I am sure the Indian police will protect you adequately. The problem lies elsewhere. It seems this dog used to belong to your Daddy, and some of his humble servants even gave him a medal for being so mean.

I'm sorry to have to bring this to your attention, after all, no one likes to hear their Daddy shamed in such a way. But I do so only with your safety in mind. Perhaps the local residents harbour some malice towards you. I have heard that some of them, when they think back to this beast, develop the worst animosity towards its master. Or, in this case, the master's offspring.

If you do go to Amritsar, don't go to the Golden Temple. It's a wonderful place to visit, I'm sure. But Sikhism is a very egalitarian religion, and your stately appearance might not go well with that. Some folks actually believe that all men are created equal. I realise this is not very British, and that alone can make you feel like a fish out of water.

If you do go to the Golden Temple, be sure to leave your footwear behind. In India, folks leave their footwear at the door in all kinds of places. Usually, you can be sure they'll be there when you come back. To be doubly sure, perhaps you can bring a couple of sentries to stand guard over it. Not that you should care about losing a measly shoe. I'm sure Ms Marcos can lend you a couple if necessary. She has lots of money too, in much the same way as you do. She probably has more shoes.

Most importantly, whatever you do, don't say you're sorry about anything. Mangy dogs are in the past, and don't let that get to the little voice in your head. You see, if you say you're sorry, then the locals will ask for compensation as proof. Then you'd have to pay up! Now that you've started paying taxes, you have to be careful not to let any untoward incidents further erode your amassed wealth. Or else your great-great-grandson might actually have to work for a living. Good grief!

The food can be spicy, which you may not be used to. It is bound to be tasty as well, which I am sure you are not used to. And if your host does not provide silverware, just tuck in. I doubt anyone will care. But don't giggle, some might think it imprudent.

If the itinerary gets too much to bear, call a time out. Go to a hill station. I've head Kodaikanal is still manageable. There aren't very many palaces to give you comfort, but I hear there is a three-storey building. At least, it will the only one in town, a little like a palace in that respect. Last I heard, the queen of this joint was in the joint.

Some folks will trail you all the way with cameras and such. Depending on how deeply you mourn Diana's death, you should love them or hate them. You shouldn't have too much to worry about from them anyway. You're not about to elope with Egyptian billionaires, or sunbathe at St Tropez in a half-undone swimsuit. At any rate, I doubt the sleaze mills will pay much for that kind of shot.

You do not need to bring any transportation, the government of my country will provide a gleaming white Morris, 1964 vintage no less, for your every convenience. If it feels a little like a carriage, especially as it reaches top speed, you'll notice the effort that has gone into recreating the royal atmosphere for you. There's no rush anyhow, in India everything moves slowly. On a good day, you can outrun the Shatabdi. Maybe that's why there's so many of them.

There, that should get you going nicely. Oh, there's one last thing. Leave the crown behind, this is not Scotland. Or even Canada. Worse still, someone might recognise the jewels.

Ashwin Mahesh

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