Viciously ejected from the melee by a policeman who considered my tripod a weapon, I climb a tree and hang on for dear life while my lens barely catches Sunita wave -- the real item this time -- to a sea of young hands. Meanwhile, the well-baked Gujarati janta has thrown the formerly mentioned discipline to the winds, and is now up in autograph-wanting arms, clamoring for a piece of Williams. Finally, me and fellow cameraman rejoice, comes the speech. I tighten my grip, now perched on a shaky chair - honestly, very little solid ground is available to any of us - and Sunita speaks to the kids.

She gives the crowd a five minute talk, punctuated by long pauses. Not just for her Gujarati interpreter, but, like you'd imagine Bono would have to, she has to keep stopping for deafening applause. Yes, Sunita's rockstar-like reception has been fantastical, a logistical nightmare as fans have completely latched on to her star. Wow.

Fast forward to a couple of hours later, and Sunita is expected at Nehru Nagar to commemorate the statue of her late cousin, Hiren Pandya. This time -- as the speakers play inappropriate, vaguely 'patriotic' songs like It happens only in India and the Sarfarosh theme -- the crowd is everywhere, spilling precariously out of nearby rooftops and covering the road so completely that only one thin-lane of traffic (instead of three) is available. So sardine-like is the scenario that Williams has had to abort at least two attempts at entering the venue, her car forced to circle round and round till the crowd settles. It doesn't, and the police finally squeeze her through for a rushed couple of seconds, as she garlands the statue, waves to the throng, and vanishes in an exhausted huff.

One day in Gujarat, and Sunita Williams could not have been more overwhelmed. Phew.