Mumbai is about to get louder. It’s not just the usual chaos of the financial capital; it’s the sound of a French motorcade and the heavy thud of a dozen "strategic" folders hitting a mahogany table. Emmanuel Macron is back in India, and Narendra Modi is playing the host again. They’ve done this dance before. In Paris, in Delhi, and now in the humid heat of Mumbai. It’s a masterclass in the "strategic autonomy" two-step—a way for both men to tell the world they don’t need a permission slip from Washington or Beijing to do business.

The optics will be flawless. There will be handshakes that last five seconds too long for comfort. There will be talk of "civilizational ties." But look past the marigold garlands and you’ll see the real friction: a massive pile of unfulfilled promises and some very expensive hardware.

Take the Jaitapur Nuclear Power Project. It’s the tech world’s version of vaporware. This plan to build six European Pressurized Reactors (EPR) on the Maharashtra coast has been "imminent" since 2008. That’s seventeen years of press releases. The sticking point isn't the physics; it’s the liability. France’s EDF doesn’t want to be on the hook if something goes sideways, and India’s civil liability laws are a nightmare for any foreign firm with a balance sheet to protect. They’ll likely sign another "Memorandum of Understanding" today. In tech terms, that’s just a "Coming Soon" landing page for a startup that hasn’t raised its Series A.

Then there’s the defense kit. The Indian Navy wants 26 Rafale-M fighter jets to sit on its new aircraft carrier. It’s a multi-billion dollar deal that France is desperate to ink. But the friction here is "Make in India." Modi wants the blueprints, the tech transfer, the whole kitchen sink. Macron wants to protect the intellectual property of Dassault Aviation. It’s a classic tug-of-war between a buyer who wants to become a competitor and a seller who’s tired of being treated like a hardware store.

Don’t expect much honesty about the price tags, either. We’re talking about figures that would make a Silicon Valley VC blush. The estimated cost for those jets and a few more Scorpene-class submarines is hovering somewhere north of $6 billion. That’s a lot of taxpayer rupees for hardware that everyone hopes will just sit in a hangar gathering dust.

The "tech" portion of the visit will inevitably pivot to AI and semiconductors. Everyone is talking about chips these days. India wants to be the world’s back office for silicon fabrication, and France wants to pretend it’s still a global tech hub despite its penchant for over-regulation. They’ll announce a "roadmap." They might even mention "digital sovereignty"—a phrase Macron loves because it sounds fancy while basically meaning "we want to tax Google."

But there’s a grit to this relationship that you don't see with the US. When Modi goes to Washington, it’s a lecture on human rights wrapped in a trade deal. When Macron comes to Mumbai, it’s just business. France doesn't care about the domestic politics of its customers as long as the checks clear and the "strategic partnership" keeps the American influence in check. It’s cynical, sure. But in a world where everyone is picking sides, India and France are trying to build their own side.

There’s also the space angle. ISRO and CNES have been buddies for decades. They’ll talk about joint satellite launches and maritime surveillance in the Indian Ocean. It’s the one area where the collaboration actually yields results you can see on a radar screen rather than just in a budget report. It’s low-drama, high-utility, and remarkably quiet compared to the jet engine deals.

Tonight, the dinner in Mumbai will be lavish. The speeches will be filled with platitudes about a "multipolar world." But the reality is simpler. India needs high-end Western tech without the moralizing, and France needs a massive market that isn't China. It’s a marriage of convenience where both parties are already looking at the exit strategy.

As the motorcade clears out and the Mumbai traffic returns to its usual state of permanent gridlock, the question remains. How many of these "strategic" deals actually result in a finished product, and how many are just expensive ways to keep the diplomats busy?

We’ll see if any concrete actually gets poured at Jaitapur this decade, or if we’re just waiting for the next sequel to this particular photo-op.