INDIA: Call Us Mister

There had been no such excitement since Independence Day in 1947, no such pomp since George V, King and Emperor, summoned the princes of India to pay him homage at a royal durbar in 1911. An army of cosmeticians did over New Delhi. Whitewash and fresh paint suddenly beautified the twelve miles from the airport into the city. Unsightly shacks were torn down, red gravel was spread like rouge over rough paths and disheveled roads, and a multitude of women of low caste swept every inch of the main highway with hand brooms. If the visitors would only visit enough of the city, went a popular quip, New Delhi might quickly lose all its slums.

Red Soviet flags flew everywhere. Street names with an "imperial'' flavor were changed, such as Queensway, which became Road of the People. Forty thousand schoolchildren rehearsed for days their roles as spontaneous greeters. Free special trains from the Punjab and Uttar Pradesh poured peasants in to swell the city crowd; other thousands arrived by foot, by bullock cart or by camel.

A season's harvest of roses, marigolds and other flowers were gathered for the occasion, moving Prime Minister Nehru to warn: "I have myself been repeatedly hurt a bit by the throwing of flowers. I should therefore particularly request that no flowers, garlands or bouquets be thrown at our guests." The guests-to-be themselves also issued an advance request -they wanted to be addressed as "plain Mister," would be "satisfied with common dishes," and wanted to be treated exactly equal.

Smiles & Salutes. Perhaps one million Indians were massed at the airport or lined the twelve-mile route when a twinengined Soviet transport, escorted by eight Indian jets, arrived in Delhi. Out stepped Nikolai Bulganin and waggled a light straw hat. Behind him came Nikita Khrushchev and waggled a light straw hat. A wave of onlookers broke over steel barricades and had to be beaten back by police swinging steel-tipped staves. Garlands formed nooses about the necks of the visitors, and an aimless cheer resolved itself into an intelligible chant, "Nehru! Bulganin! Khrushchev!" The celebrities chatted. Nehru had heard that Bulganin wears a bulletproof vest in public appearances. "I do not," said Bulganin. "Feel me." Nehru good-naturedly poked an inquiring finger at the Russian's chest. Then Bulganin turned to the crowd and raised his hands high in a happy prizefighter's salute.

Nehru bawled into a microphone in Hindi, "Shut up!" and the crowd obeyed. Said the Premier of Russia: "Long live friendship!" Said the Prime Minister of India: "We are getting to know each other." Then guests and host piled into a green 1938 Cadillac convertible, once the possession of a maharaja, and rode past the festive, sweets-sucking multitude.

Gesture to Gandhi. The Indian leader, a tough if not ruthless foe of Communists within his own country, spared no effort to make international Communism's top dogs feel welcome and among friends. He arranged for them 18 days of sightseeing, state banquets, formal receptions, folk festivals.