The Covid-19 lockdown had crossed 45 days. Delhi and the surrounding areas were simmering in heat. The mercury must have touched 35 degrees Celsius as I stood under a shade near a provision store at 11 in the morning. My wife had stopped there to purchase some essentials on our way back from a doctor's clinic. I watched with interest the drill of permitting only a limited number of visitors inside after spraying some liquid on their hands. The guard at the door stood next to plastic trays with milk in polythene packs and bundles of bread exposed to raw air next to a drain. As per a popular view, the number of Covid-19 victims in India is low because of our superior immunity acquired through the habitual consumption of contaminated and poorly preserved food. "So be it," I thought.

The shop had a narrow strip of a footpath in front, on which stood a reporter and his companion: a cameraman with a stand-mounted cellular phone. I had ignored them on our arrival minutes ago and had firmly refused the guard's request to face the reporter. I had no desire to brave the sun and was least interested in striking a conversation with a complete stranger next to a drain.

Finally, the reporter walked towards me while speaking in Hindi, "Aur Aaiye Ab Jaante Hain Ek Bujurg Se 'Make In India' Ke Baare Mein Unke Vichaar" (Let us now learn about the views of an elderly gentleman about 'Make in India'). He was dressed in plain clothes with no identity tag. He didn't introduce himself, didn't waste time on preliminaries, and shot in Hindi, "Have you decided to buy only Indian goods on the basis of the Prime Minister's call?"

"I am not sure I would refuse the Covid-19 vaccine even if it is made in a foreign country," I responded.

"We are not talking about medicines, we are talking about other goods," he clarified, the conversation continuing in Hindi.

"I am still not sure that in the present times I would be able to buy a decent laptop that is completely made in India," I answered.

Not liking my answers, the reporter started walking away even as I talked about the world's transformation into a global village. He thrust the microphone before another person who was in the process of disembarking from his motorcycle, asking "We have seen many people buying earthen pots (matka) today. Have you stopped using the refrigerator in response to the Prime Minister's 'Make in India' call?"

The person mumbled something about preferring matka-water in summers, but my mind had already strayed away. Was the reporter ignorant about the Rs.1 trillion consumer durable industry in India? Did he feel that refrigerators are not made in India? Had he never heard the names of Godrej, Voltas, etc., and did he not know that the Indian subsidiaries of many international companies manufacture refrigerators in the country? Or, was he indulging in toad-eating and creating an incorrect impression in spite of knowing the facts? 

Both ways, the conduct of the media person was irresponsible. If people believe in him, they will hurt 'Make in India' by shunning refrigerators. If they don't believe in him, the channel will lose credibility and viewership, which will again hurt 'Make in India'. The call is not to stop consumption but to enhance work in myriad sectors ranging from automobiles to space, I argued in my mind.

My wife emerged. We started walking towards home. "I met an idiot today," I told her.

And then I realised, the reporter would feel the same about me while deleting my byte and completing the story. "So be it," I thought, for the second time in less than 15 minutes.