The scene at the Queen Elizabeth Conference Centre which was hosting a reception for the Indian Prime Minister Atal Behari Vajpayee was typical of events organised by the High Commission. It was bustling with friendly commotion and teeming with ladies disguised cleverly as walking jewellery shops.
Twenty breathless women struggled to (mis)match names on invitation cards with names on badges as queuing guests piled up slowly in ordered chaos.
I was escorted to a table with a senior correspondent from the Malayala Manorama, India’s largest circulating newspaper. The correspondent was travelling with Vajpayee and proudly proclaimed, “There are 29 media persons travelling with the Prime Minister.”
I was completely taken aback – if the media delegation numbered 29, surely the Prime Minister’s security agents, intelligence support, policy advisors, administrative staff and others would add up to at least 100. And of course, it was the Indian tax-payer who must have footed the entire bill. But then, Kings and ministers should always travel in style.
Vajpayee arrived at the reception to thunderous applause and spoke eloquently about the Indian government’s commitment to the country’s security concerns. “Only we can help ourselves, no other nation will do our job for us,” he said.
Referring to the recent drought in India, Vajpayee explained that India still had plenty of foodgrains in stock and did not require any imports. “I remember the days when wheat was transferred from the ships standing in our ports to the stoves in our kitchens. Thankfully, the green revolution started by Indira Gandhi changed all this and India became self-sufficient in food grains,” he said.
Vajpayee explained that although he had been a political opponent of Indira Gandhi, he had never opposed anything that was decidedly good for the country. “I manage to do a lot of good for the country, but people still continue to oppose me. I don’t know why they do it though,” he joked.
The Indian Premiere said that India was a nation of 1 million people, had a cultural history tracing back 5000 years, and possessed a pool of scientific and technical talent that was the best in the world. Yet the country had not failed to tackle the question of poverty.
Vajpayee praised the overseas Indian community and said, “Indians who reside abroad always reach the top. But in India we are not able to repeat this performance. When I see that the British Government has honoured many Indians as Life Peers in the House of Lords, I feel very happy. Any Indian who achieves honour and recognition in any part of the world always makes me feel proud. But it is important that overseas Indians continue to retain their links with India and never forget their motherland.”
Vajpayee received a standing ovation from everyone. Well, almost everyone. Three Muslim guests sitting with Ibrahim Master, the President of the Lancashire Council of Mosques, actually sat through and refused to clap or stand up. One of them actually put his fingers to his ears and shook his head as his fellow guests thundered on in a loud applause.
As I stood up to join in the applause, my hand brushed accidentally against the shoulder of Surendra Tandon, son of the super-rich G Tandon. He got up in anger and peered down at my badge to read my name with a pointedly condescending stare. Deciding that I was not a VIP or a person who really mattered much, he continued looking at me with disdain and scorn. I smiled as I took in the wig he was wearing to hide his lack of hair. He adjusted his wig neatly with both hands, perhaps to make sure his bald patch was not showing and decided to ignore me with meticulous detail.
The High Commissioner, Ronan Sen announced that the Prime Minister would recite a poem that he had recently written. I joined boisterously in the clapping, but Tandon who had obviously decided that I was a pest who must be exterminated immediately, turned around, adjusted his ill-fitting wig, scowled hard at me, and snorted, “You are clapping so loud you are actually hurting my ears.”
I thought it was my turn to ignore him with meticulous detail. As Vajpayee left the podium, my resolve failed miserably. I could not help noticing that Tandon was still checking his wig to make sure it was still in place, and stifled my smile. The head of a country had left, but the head of Tandon was still checking its place. Hair-raising stuff for some. Hair-saving stuff for others.