SANJAY PANDITA
“Kahan Raja Bhoj, kahan Gangu Teli?”—“Where Raja Bhoj, and where Gangu Teli?”—is a familiar Hindi saying used for generations to describe two people who appear poles apart in status, wealth, influence, achievement or social standing. Raja Bhoj represents grandeur, authority and accomplishment, while Gangu Teli traditionally represents the ordinary person.
But society has changed, and perhaps it is time to look at this old saying differently.
The world of Raja Bhoj was a world of kings and subjects, palaces and ordinary dwellings, privilege and clearly defined social hierarchies. Birth, wealth, occupation and proximity to power largely determined a person’s position. The distance between a king and an ordinary subject was not merely economic; it was social and institutional.
Today, democracy, education and technology have transformed that world. A person born in an ordinary family can become a scientist, entrepreneur, writer, artist, administrator or national leader. Social mobility has created opportunities that earlier generations could scarcely imagine.
Yet one thing has not changed: our tendency to rank people.
The throne may have disappeared, but the psychology of the throne remains.
Today, the symbols of status are different. Political power, wealth, professional position, celebrity, corporate influence, luxury possessions and social-media popularity have become the new measures of importance. The modern Raja Bhoj may not wear a crown. He may be a politician, industrialist, celebrity, corporate leader or digital influencer.
The modern Gangu Teli may be the person standing unnoticed beside him.
This becomes particularly visible in the way society treats people according to their occupations and possessions. A person arriving in an expensive car may receive more respect than someone arriving on a bicycle. A celebrity can attract enormous attention, while a teacher who has educated generations may remain unknown outside his community. A successful entrepreneur may receive recognition, while the workers who contributed to that success may remain invisible.
We have increasingly begun to confuse visibility with value.
But visibility is not the same as importance.
A person may have millions of followers and little wisdom. Another may have no followers at all but possess knowledge that has transformed many lives. Wealth can provide comfort, but it cannot automatically provide character. Authority can command obedience, but it cannot guarantee respect. Fame can make a person known, but it cannot make that person great.
This is where the old saying acquires a new meaning.
Instead of asking, “Who is Raja Bhoj and who is Gangu Teli?”, perhaps we should ask, “Why do we need to rank human beings at all?”
The question has become even more important in the age of social media. Every day we are exposed to other people’s achievements, holidays, homes, careers, possessions and celebrations. We see the successful photograph but rarely the struggle behind it.
A young professional may feel unsuccessful because someone of the same age is earning more. A student may feel inadequate because another has entered a prestigious institution. Someone living in a small town may imagine that happiness exists in a metropolitan city, while someone living in a large city may dream of the peace of a smaller place.
We compare our complete reality with someone else’s carefully selected moments.
The result is dissatisfaction.
Every individual begins from a different starting point. Family circumstances, education, financial resources, opportunities and responsibilities influence the journey of life. Comparing two people merely by their present positions is like comparing two books after reading only their covers.
The same mentality is encouraged by consumerism. We are constantly told that what we possess is not enough. Our phone, car, clothes, house and lifestyle must always be upgraded. The message is subtle but powerful: something better is waiting elsewhere.
The same illusion operates in professional life. An employee may leave one organisation believing another will provide happiness, only to discover that the new workplace has different pressures. A person may envy an entrepreneur without seeing the risks and uncertainties involved. Someone working in the private sector may dream of government employment, while someone in government service may envy the earning potential of the private sector.
Everyone looks across the fence.
Everyone sees the greener grass.
Very few see the weeds.
This does not mean that change is unnecessary. Sometimes the grass really is greener elsewhere. People must leave unhealthy environments, pursue better opportunities and have the courage to change their circumstances.
The important question is: Are we moving towards something meaningful, or are we simply running away from dissatisfaction?
That question also helps us reinterpret Raja Bhoj and Gangu Teli.
The greatest danger in hierarchical thinking is that it confuses social position with human worth.
A designation tells us what position a person occupies. It does not tell us what kind of human being he is. Wealth tells us what someone possesses. It does not tell us what someone contributes. Fame tells us how many people know someone. It does not tell us whether that person deserves admiration.
A wealthy person may be generous or cruel. An ordinary person may possess extraordinary compassion. A powerful official may misuse authority, while an unknown worker may perform an act of great courage.
Human worth cannot be measured by social status.
There is nothing wrong with celebrating excellence. Every society needs exceptional people—great scientists, writers, teachers, artists, entrepreneurs and leaders. Raja Bhoj can remain a symbol of accomplishment.
The problem begins when accomplishment becomes an excuse for contempt.
There is a difference between saying “this person has achieved something extraordinary” and saying “therefore this person is more valuable than others.”The first is recognition.
The second is arrogance.
Perhaps Gangu Teli, too, deserves to be seen differently.
Why should an ordinary person be considered inferior simply because he lacks wealth, fame or influence?
Most of society consists of ordinary people. The farmer grows our food. The sanitation worker keeps our cities clean. The construction worker builds our homes and roads. The driver takes us to our destinations. The mechanic keeps our machines functioning. The artisan preserves traditional skills. The teacher educates our children.
Their names may never appear in newspapers, but their work is indispensable.
If famous people disappeared for a day, society would survive. If millions of ordinary workers disappeared for a day, modern life would come to a standstill.
This should make us reconsider what greatness means.
Democracy has also given us an important principle: human dignity does not depend upon social rank.
Equality does not mean that everyone has the same profession, income or talent. A scientist and a farmer perform different functions. A surgeon and a carpenter require different skills. A judge and a driver carry different responsibilities.
But different responsibilities do not make one human being more worthy of dignity than another.
We can admire excellence without insulting ordinariness. We can respect wealth without worshipping it. We can acknowledge authority without becoming submissive to it. We can celebrate fame without confusing popularity with greatness.
True greatness often reveals itself through humility.
The higher a person rises, the more important it becomes to remember the people who helped him rise. Behind every successful individual are parents, teachers, mentors, colleagues, workers and institutions. No one builds a meaningful life entirely alone.
The real Raja Bhoj, therefore, should not simply be the person who stands above others. He should represent the person who combines achievement with responsibility, power with wisdom and success with compassion.
And Gangu Teli should not remain merely a symbol of inferiority. He can represent the millions of ordinary people whose quiet labour keeps society functioning.
This is particularly relevant in contemporary India. Technology and education have weakened many traditional barriers. People from small towns and modest backgrounds are reaching institutions, professions and audiences that were once largely inaccessible to them.
Yesterday’s ordinary person can become tomorrow’s celebrated personality.
Yesterday’s powerful person can become tomorrow’s forgotten name.
History repeatedly reminds us that social rankings are temporary.
What survives is contribution.
A ruler may be remembered for his administration. A scientist for a discovery. A poet for his words. A teacher for the lives he transformed. An ordinary person may be remembered by a family for a single act of kindness.
In the end, perhaps the greatest lesson hidden in the proverb is not about superiority at all. It is about responsibility.
If you possess wealth, what do you do with it? If you possess knowledge, do you share it? If you possess authority, do you use it fairly? If you possess fame, do you use your influence responsibly? And if you have risen from humble circumstances, do you remember those who helped you rise?
These questions give the old saying a new contemporary meaning.
The world will always have people with different levels of wealth, influence, achievement and opportunity. Social differences cannot simply be wished away.
But differences in social position should never become differences in human dignity.
Perhaps, therefore, the question should no longer be:
“Kahan Raja Bhoj, kahan Gangu Teli?”
Instead, we should ask:
“What makes Raja Bhoj truly great?”
And the answer should not be wealth, power, birth or fame.
It should be character, compassion, contribution and humility.
The true measure of a successful person is not how far he has risen above others, but how many others he has helped rise with him.
That is perhaps the lesson an old proverb can offer to a new generation: people may occupy different positions in society, but no position makes one human being greater in dignity than another.
The writer can be reached at sanjaypanditasp@gmail.com
