A President Visits

"Pussy cat, pussy cat where have you been?"

"I’ve been to London to see the Queen!"

When Clinton came to Mumbai, he walked among the people, smiled and waved. He even visited a local hostelry. And even though he came with a tarnished image, everyone wanted a glimpse of this goriya phirang and his very pretty daughter and, what is more, they got it.

Hubby had taken Bonnie, our collie, for a walk and it so happened that Clinton was on the opposite side of the road. Hubby was thrilled. When he returned, he remarked, “Bonnie saw Clinton!” She got to woof at him too. Such was the time, such was the tenor.

This weekend, another American President visits. Sanitisation, unprecedented security and a whole lot of dos and don’ts. A cohort of 500, two truckloads of weapons and a 900 tonne armoured automobile. All this for just a few minutes at select venues over two days. The city is in a tizzy! This morning, I noticed that the manhole covers had all been taped over. Every monsoon, these manholes invariably lack covers and the swirling waters suck people into their murky depths. In all my sixty years I have never seen a taped manhole cover in Mumbai. We are, it seems, expendable.

The roads have been swept clean, the kerbs painted and the pavements barricaded. The hawkers have been spirited away and people are discouraged from the casual stroll or shop-front sightseeing – a very Colaba occupation. The visiting President will see a ghost town and not this bustling, busy, noisy, smelly, larger than life, in your face, sometimes hostile but mostly welcoming city of mine. Pity.

Once a cat could look at a Queen and a collie could woof at a President. But this is a different time, this is a different tenor. And we must be neither seen nor heard.