Oh my! Someone’s in top form,” chided Lady Flora as she spotted Sir PM walk towards her at their new meeting adda—the Cooperage bandstand—since maintenance work was still underway at the Horniman Circle Garden. He blushed at her compliment. Sir PM was dressed in a new three-piece tweed suit and seemed genuinely happy. She was looking equally spectacular in her all-white ensemble, Sir PM had noticed. Even before she could enquire about his spiffy appearance, he began, “My Lady, I couldn’t wait to inaugurate my new suit, and so I decided to give it a test-drive. Actually I’ve got two made, since it’s back-to-back celebrations” he smiled, adding, “August 15, as you know is our Independence Day, and luckily, this year, our New Year falls on the following day; how convenient! Okay, enough of my rambling…what’s the occasion for your resplendent look?” Lady Flora replied, “I am as Indian as you are, Pheroze. This is my freedom week collection—all shades of white and off-white, because it’s the colour of free India according to me.”

Sir PM was mighty impressed with his friend’s thinking, and just as he was about to suggest heading to one of their favourite Irani halts for some refreshments, she said, “You know, but I feel that most city folk haven’t fully experienced this freedom …” Sir PM nodded, yet he held back from making a comment, and instead, waited for his friend to explain. “I feel for our common man; the hardworking, tax-paying middle-class city dweller who is still not free from countless woes despite giving so much to the city. I feel they’ve reached a point where they work on autopilot—trying to make it big in the city for themselves, their children, their parents, but what do they get in return? A pathetic public transport system that’s been used and abused. An unbearably long commute and bad roads, congested trains and stations, that only add to their struggles. High rents and higher costs of living. Is bagging that coveted window seat on the Virar fast their small joy for the day? Does owning a 1BHK in a far-flung suburb remain a pipe dream; and forget about that secondhand car. This is just the burgeoning middle-class…” she trailed off. Sir PM was even more impressed by now (and also embarrassed) that despite being more ‘local’ than his friend, these concerns of his dear citizens had got brushed under the carpet somewhere along the way.