'I had a memorable trip. It was a jaldi-jaldi trip'

Archana Masih in Bombay

"Where is my wife's seat?"

The Israeli president begins his formal appearance in Bombay with a gentle query. The ushers are quick to take the cue and the lady soon finds herself seated beside him.

A few minutes later, His Excellency holds his wife's bag as they both listen to a kid explaining a Physics experiment. Ezer Weizman is a prominent advocate of peace in West Asia, he is also a concerned husband.

The president was inaugurating the launch of computer aided simulators for educating children in India. "You hold one handle of the scissors, I'll hold the other," says the president to Israel Asher, the Israeli partner of the product being introduced in India in partnership with the Shogun group.

"If Mohammad cannot move to the mountain, the mountain is moved to Mohammad," says Asher explaining the security reasons behind shifting the entire range of the to-be-introduced educational products to the venue.

Security. The razor sharp precision of the Israeli security personnel is legendary. They are oblivious to the pleading photographers. "SECURITY ... SECURITY ... SECURITY please move!!!" They remain unaffected -- an immobile monolith of kibbutzim (could have been Mossad-dumb) stare unrelentingly at the gaggle of photographers.

As the lenspeople vie for position in a six foot square area, the man ahead, incharge of the security of his country's president is unmoved by their plight, a bunch also trying to do their own job.

"I'll test my mechanical knowledge from here," says President Weizman tapping the mike and gives a soft nudge to Asher. Israel Asher first met Weizman, as a general in the Israeli military services where Asher once served in a technical capacity. The president goes on to express his pleasure at the increasing rate of literacy in India. "I saw the Light Combat aircraft," said Weizman, "achievements like this are an indication of a nation's self sufficiency."

The security is are annoying, yet impressive. The president's security, by his own people, proved an exercise of professionalism not witnessed by the city press circuit in a long time. That they were fine specimens of this global village is obvious, but the smoothness with which they carried out their task was a pleasure to note.

Wired for sound. Each member of the security team had this translucent, telephone-like cord curled behind their left ear. Like in books and movies, they seemed to mutter stupidly onto the back of their hands or empty palms.

They are even a curt lot. A senior Indian security officer thought they were unco-operative. Nevertheless, he is not blind to their rationale. "After all, they just suffered an assassination last year," he says.

The Gateway of India: Bombay's enduring legend. And a ritual for visiting dignitaries, and commoners. The majestic structure on the mighty Arabian Sea is the president's next halt.

Security again. Curious tourists, regular hangers-on are all briskly shuffled away. Till what remains are a few crows and sniffing security staff. No amount of persuasion can sway the lads from kibbutz. All what comes from them is polite refusal from entry into the cordoned area.

The president spends less than seven minutes at The Gateway. Disregards his security and walks back to the Taj Mahal hotel on the other side. With casual ease he meets the people thronging the area. Tourists, drivers, shengwalahas (peanut vendors).

Seeing a lone photographer, peering through her lens he asks, "Whom do you represent?" "No one was informed of my schedule?" he follows. The photographer shakes the president's hand. "Hello," he says.

Suddenly, getting closer to the President no longer remains a problem. He smiles and shakes hands with several people. He will be leaving India in the night. In the final leg of his trip, President Weizman yet again remembers Bangalore with special fondness - the city where he spent a few months as an Royal Airforce pilot.

"Oh, I had a memorable trip. Yes, it was a jaldi-jaldi (quick) trip," he says with a chuckle. "Garam paani (hot water)." Grasping the last remnants of his once spoken Hindi, Ezer Weizman slowly walks on.

Inputs and Photographs: Jewella C Miranda