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Our furniture had still not arrived-a day of negotiations about the duty payable lay ahead at the Delhi customs office where the container was broken open and inspected-and we camped on office chairs and fold-up beds, wrapped in blankets.
The Indian story was also in a state of suspension, waiting for something to happen.
At the Ministry of External Affairs, in the red sandstone majesty of Sir Herbert Baker's Secretariat buildings, a bright young official on a new economic desk assured me that India's finances were strong enough to take the strains.
At a party of intellectuals' young academics and filmmakers in rough cotton kurta-payjama suits scoffed at the prospects for satellite TV.
The only constraint on local producers like Reliance was the government's licensing of their capacity, or where they built their factories.
To jack up his capacity, Ambani had become a big political fixer.
The image was of grim, dark-brown peaks surrounding a harbour of brilliant blue, a host of merchant ships tied up to moorings, and a busy traffic of launches and barges.
Word of the Ambani family and their company Reliance Industries had spread to Hong Kong as prime examples of this brash new India which might finally have its day, courtesy of the changes the Gulf War symbolised.
Everything about the Ambanis, in fact, was a good magazine story The young couple's courtship had been a stormy one, ready-made for the Bombay show-biz magazines. She had been a film starlet, featuring in several of the Hindi-language films churned out by the hundreds every year in 'Bollywood'-most including improb- able violence, song-and-dance routines, and long sequences with the female leads in wet, clingy clothes.
Ambani had got into polyester manufacturing in a big way, and got huge numbers of Indians to invest in shares of his company, Reliance Industries.
In India, the home of fine cotton textiles, it seemed that people couldn't get enough polyester.