“His name meant Prince, but he was anything but princely in appearance, with his oil-splashed vest, his untidily knotted longyi and his bare feet with their thick slippers of callused skin. When people asked how old he was he said fifteen, or sometimes eighteen or nineteen, for it gave him a sense of strength and power to be able to exaggerate so wildly, to pass himself off as grown and strong, in body and judgment, when he was, in fact, not much more than a child.”

The first physical description of Rajkumar presents him as a walking, talking contradiction in terms. His name is an ironic paradox–the boy named as a prince, who lives as a poor orphan in the shadow of a palace. He is a foreigner, speaking in “heavily accented Burmese” and belongs to neither Burma nor India. His feet are coated in calluses, allowing him to ignore the minor pains and irritations that he might step upon.

He inflates his self-worth through exaggerations, a trait that will serve him well in the business world. But ultimately, he remains not much more than a child. Though Rajkumar is shown to be capable of a great deal, the author makes sure to remind the audience that he is little more than an innocent boy about to embark on a journey that will take him across numerous countries.

“For a few coins they would allow their masters to use them as they wished, to destroy every trace of resistance to the power of the English […] How do you fight an enemy who fights from neither enmity nor anger, but in submission to orders from superiors, without protest and without conscience?”

In this passage, Ghosh explores the nature of those who side with the colonial power. It is through the words of Saya John that he conveys this message: a recollection, retold as a lesson to Rajkumar. The audience takes the place of Rajkumar, listening to the older man who has more influence in this field.