Family history can be cool. As proof, I cite the inscription on a trophy found among my late Grandma Wilson's things:

The Simla Open Tennis Tournament
1913 Men's Doubles
1st PRIZE
Presented By
RAJA SIR HARNAM SINGH K.C.I.E.
Won By
E.R. Gray
G.M. Coates

Dr. Ernest R. Gray, a dentist, was my great-grandfather, Great Granny Gray's husband. He died long before I was born. Great Granny Gray was my closest foreign-born relative, hailing from England. Ernest Gray was an American, but lived for many years in Imperial India, where he met, courted, and married Maude Pudaphott, the future Great Granny Gray, and also where they had my recently departed Grandma Wilson (born Priscilla Gray). She was a stubborn New England Yankee, but she'd been born in India. Perhaps I am so fond of Kipling because my family is only two generations removed from the Empire?

It's quite the contradiction: I am fiercely proud of my Irish Catholicism (hell, my name is Michael Patrick), but also fiercely loyal to England. England may have turned her back on Rome, but I cannot turn my back on her. "There'll always be an England"

I am uncertain as to for what K.C.I.E. stands, but I would guess Knight Commander of the Indian Empire. I wish I was a raja. (As the BTW boys know all too well, in Risk the Black Raj is to be much feared.)