>> We are at the security check at Mumbai International Airport to catch a flight to Montreal via Frankfurt. It isu00a01 am. Outside there has been chaos and cacophony as departing passengers, sundry bystanders, airport personnel and all the flotsam and jetsam that comprises Indian travel — jostles for elbow room on the narrow strip of pavement that makes for the departure gate. Inside is only relatively better. The airport looks badly in need of an overhaul, but the queues are a bit more orderly and the staff divested of its usual agro. And then suddenly as we wait our turn at the handbag X-ray an unexpected ray of light: the grim officer manning the desk breaks out into a huge smile, leaps to his feet and bounds up to shake the hand of the guy ahead of us. “Sir!” he exclaims displaying a lot of teeth as a crowd gathers around. “Sir, which is your next film? Is it with Salman bhai?” We glance at the person these words are addressed to. Besides looking like a swarthy fresh faced 20 something, he appears unfamiliar and embarrassed “No it’s with... mumble mumble,” he replies. Who was that, we ask the officer whose smile vanishes the moment the gent passes through the gate. “No clue,” he replies. “Some actor-shactor’. Ah Bollywood. How do we love thee! Let us count the ways.