A strange and totally unexpected thing happened to me in Mumbai last week. Walking from the Gateway of India to Flora Fountain, I fell. The pavement was dreadfully uneven, full of holes, and I had stumbled on one and was lucky not to suffer a serious injury. After the fall, my wife was so worried that as we went round Mumbai, she held my hand, making me feel very old indeed.

I mention this because I am a Midnight’s Child, born seven months before India won freedom, and lived in Mumbai until I was 21. During this period, that road, and much of South Mumbai, was my regular haunt, and I cannot remember worrying about the condition of any pavement. I did occasionally fall but that was when playing cricket at the Oval Maidan. I would have dismissed any talk of Mumbai’s streets being too dangerous to walk on as nonsense. Now I agree with a Mumbai friend that in the city, you must always walk with your head down, eyes glued to the pavement, to make sure you do not fall.