Part of Ring Road blocked; Dhaula Kuan to International airport teeming with policemen; men and women being kicked out beyond the side-lanes. My taxi was stopped at Munirka, some eight kilometers from the airport. The driver sweated and cursed in solid Punjabi. The airline assured me over the phone not to worry, my flight would be late by at least four hours. At least, she emphasized twice.
There was no way the driver could run away with my modest baggage – the road before and behind were packed like a box of shrimps ready for export from Kochi. So I decided to get down and investigate.
Curious as hell though somewhat wary of his hand over a revolver that seemed ready to jump out of its holster, I asked a police Sub Inspector what the melee was all about.
“Don’t you know?,” retorted the S.I. “Modi-ji is visiting India”.
I made a quick count with my fingers. “So what is special about it? He visited India seventeen times since he became the PM eleven months ago.”
The S.I. glowered at me for a moment. Then he frowned and began to count with his fingers.
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