Why I'm not looking forward to seeing Modi in Dubai
Each July, I visit home: New Delhi, India. Home is where you feel safe, protected. A place where you unwind, unwatched. On my last visit, I was stranded at the Indira Gandhi International Airport for an hour because the private taxi services were short of cabs, waiting for the cabbies to return from their last visit. They were willing to squeeze in a client or two, but only under special circumstances. There was a long queue for the prepaid taxi service and I was warned by everyone not to take one of those, irrespective of the time of day.
It was a long wait to reach home. The next evening, I was to visit my friend in Gurgaon and she again told me not to sit in any cab: “Take the Metro. Come in the noon and I will drop you back before the sun sets.” I was dropped. I visited CP for some work and my former colleagues (male) insisted that I stay back an extra hour so that they could drop me home. My "regular" salon stylist in south Delhi suggested that I take an early appointment for a facial because she had opted for an early shift so as to be able to be home by five. “My mum worries a lot,” she said. My dad and mum didn’t let me drive alone to Big Chill, Khan Market for an evening meal. I stepped out, but only when I was accompanied or chauffeured. They drove me to the airport when I was taking the return flight. “When did things change that much?” Only a couple of years ago, I had worked night shifts in a newspaper daily and felt safe. I watched late night movie shows and my parents never panicked if I missed a call. Now, I felt I was being watched by known and unknown eyes.
Fast forward to today when I am at home - my second home - Dubai.
“Are you attending Modi’s event?” That’s the question on everyone’s lips and minds here. The non-Indians are intrigued by the hysteria and the Indians are well, excited and anxious, amused and bemused. A couple of hours ago, photo-shopped images of the Burj Khalifa dressed in the colours of tri-colour went viral. Whilst the likes, shares and comments followed, I stood staring at the world’s tallest building – there was no sign of saffron there. Local newspapers and portals tell me that more than 55,000 NRIs have registered to watch the Indian prime minister at the cricket stadium today. I haven’t. “Is it because it is a weekday?” I was asked. I assumed it was a poor attempt at cracking a joke and allowed myself to feel really important: I will not meet the PM unless it is a weekend! Mr PM, drop by on a Thursday evening or for a Friday brunch. This morning, the pressure of paying a visit only increased. Acquaintances from world over have posed the same question to me, a few have even asked me if I am aware of the names of the dishes in the special Gujarati meal prepared for the PM by chef Sanjeev Kapoor. I have been polite enough to share links of the "news" item with them. Incidentally, I did the same for Shahid Kapoor and Mira Rajput’s wedding.
It was close to three years ago that I moved to Dubai and that is when I was told that I will feel at home in DXB in no time. “It’s India! With safer environs.” It sounded like an ideal home - like the one I believed I was leaving behind. Just like I had been told, I found my space soon enough, as well as the stores that sold MDH masala (spices)! I missed India, but it didn’t transform me into a patriot. Instead, it gave me the energy to start a digital magazine for the NRIs, one that talks of the colour, culture and chaos of India. And that’s where the root of this pressure - to jump at a "stereotypical" NRI situation - comes from.
We have never had a PM who is this accessible, who can be befriended on Facebook, who tweets and doesn’t shy away from taking selfies. “He even took out time to meet the Indian workers in UAE,” someone remarked. People even have access to his childhood pictures! It is phenomenal. Yet, I am not going to be among the thousands who will watch him deliver the grand Modi speech. Because while I do miss home and the connect to all things Indian and most certainly can get a cab to drop me to the venue, to hear him speak, I can’t help but think whether I would be able to do the same if I had to see him in Delhi.
So till we meet next, Mr PM, I wish you a safe stay.