The air in the plenary hall smelled like expensive espresso and the quiet desperation of middle management. It was your standard AI summit. We had the usual suspects: venture capitalists looking for the next thing to overhype, politicians pretending to understand neural networks, and a sea of Patagonia vests. Then the clothes started coming off.

It wasn’t a wardrobe malfunction. It was a protest. A group of activists decided that the best way to cut through the buzzword-heavy drone of "innovation" was to show some skin. In a country where the political classes usually only agree on the temperature of their tea, the reaction was swift, coordinated, and hilariously prudish.

"Not appropriate," the BJP camp shouted. "Ashamed," echoed the Congress allies. For a brief, shining moment, the bitterest rivals in Indian politics found common ground. They weren’t uniting over data privacy laws or the total lack of a safety net for workers displaced by automation. No, they found unity in their shared horror at a bit of semi-nudity.

It’s a classic distraction. We’re currently pouring 10,372 crore rupees into the IndiaAI Mission—a massive pot of taxpayer money meant to buy compute power and build "sovereign" models. That’s a lot of zeros. You’d think the politicians would be arguing about where that money is actually going or why the $1,500 delegate passes didn't include a seat for any actual ethicists. Instead, they’re arguing about the morality of a bare chest.

The protest itself was a messy, low-tech middle finger to the high-tech circus. While a keynote speaker was busy pitching a vision of a frictionless future, the protesters were reminding everyone that humans are inherently high-friction. We’re soft, we’re vulnerable, and we’re increasingly annoyed by the tech-bro insistence that everything can be solved with a better API.

The "shame" expressed by the political elite is a curated performance. It’s easier to clutch pearls over a protestor’s outfit than to answer questions about why the government’s latest facial recognition rollout has the accuracy of a coin toss. It’s a convenient pivot. One minute you’re being grilled on the stage about algorithmic bias; the next, you’re the moral guardian of the nation’s modesty.

Let’s talk about the friction. The summit was supposed to be a victory lap. A chance to show the world that the "Silicon Valley of the East" is ready to compete with Sam Altman’s trillion-dollar dreams. But the reality is grittier. We have a massive divide between the people writing the code and the people who will be governed by it. The protesters were likely shouting about labor rights or the environmental cost of cooling massive server farms in a water-stressed country. But nobody heard the message because they were too busy looking for a towel.

The optics are terrible, sure. But they’re terrible for everyone. The BJP looks like it’s stuck in the 1950s, the Congress allies look like they’re trying too hard to prove they’re not "too liberal," and the tech giants just look confused. They wanted a sterile environment to talk about "disruption," but they got actual disruption. Not the kind that increases shareholder value. The kind that makes you uncomfortable during your catered lunch.

The irony is thick enough to clog a server fan. These summits are built on the idea of "disrupting" every industry from healthcare to trucking. But the moment someone disrupts the social decorum of a five-star hotel ballroom, the "disruptors" call for security. They want to change the world, they just don't want the world to talk back.

The outrage will fade. The politicians will go back to their usual bickering. The activists will probably get a court date. And the AI mission will keep chugging along, fueled by billions of rupees and a total lack of public oversight.

The delegates went back to their panels after the ruckus. They talked about "guardrails" for the rest of the afternoon. They weren't talking about guarding against the loss of jobs or the erosion of truth. They were talking about guardrails for the protestors.

It makes you wonder what’s actually more obscene. A protestor with their shirt off, or a room full of people pretending that a $10 billion investment in chatbots is going to fix a country that can't even agree on what a human body should look like in public.

I checked the schedule for tomorrow. There’s a panel on "Building Trust in AI." I wonder if they’ll mention the police line outside. Probably not. It’s hard to build trust when you’re this afraid of the people you’re supposedly building for.

It’s just another day in the tech-policy meat grinder. Everyone is offended, nothing is solved, and the coffee is still lukewarm.

Will the next summit have a dress code, or just more security?