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Jacob’s Notes

The story goes that 200 years ago there was a Maharajah, a King, whose daughter suffered a terrible illness during the course of which she went blind. The royal physicians were powerless to help her so the maharajah sent word throughout the kingdom of his daughter's illness in the hope that a cure might be found. Doctors and holy men came from near and far. Month after month potions were made, incantations were muttered but none could help the girl. Finally, when it seemed that there was nothing more that could be done a doctor named Kaliyilal, from a far away village, came to the palace. He sought permission to treat the princess. Kaliyilal applied a poultice to the girl's eyes. He asked that the bandage remain in place throughout the night. In the morning when the poultice was removed the princess could see. The maharajah was overjoyed. Kaliyilal was showered with gifts, gold and land. What's more, to ensure that Kaliyilal's knowledge was passed on, it was decreed that his descendants would never pay taxes as long as they were doctors. And for 200 years, even though the tax exemption has lapsed, there has always been a doctor in the Kaliyilal line.

I'm a descendant of that line. I never made it to medical school but this piece of family history infuses this play like garlic and chilli flavour cold pressed oil. I dedicate The Pickle King to the memory of my father, Dr Kaliyilal Luke Rajan.

Jacob Rajan