AUGUST 18 — Picture a bull let loose in a fine porcelain store, snorting, swinging its horns, smashing centuries of careful craft in a single blind charge. That’s Washington under Trump. And somewhere across the Himalayas, the dragon and the elephant — once clawing and tusking at each other on frozen ridges — are suddenly glancing at the wreckage and wondering if maybe, just maybe, they’d be better off sharing a drink than watching the shop burn.

For two decades, India and the United States had been edging closer, stitched together by the shared obsession of containing China’s rise. Washington loved the idea of India as the democratic counterweight in Asia — young, hungry, and ready to outgrow Beijing’s shadow. Modi was feted in Washington, hugged by presidents, paraded as the partner who could tilt the balance of power in the Indo-Pacific.

And it wasn’t entirely lip service. The Quad — India, America, Japan, and Australia — was revived from the ashes. Joint naval drills were staged in the Indian Ocean. Silicon Valley started seeing Bengaluru not just as a back-office but as the future. For a moment, it looked like the elephant and the eagle were ready to soar together.

Then came Trump, barrelling back into the White House like a drunk uncle at Diwali, red-faced and loud. Earlier this month he threatened to double tariffs on Indian goods to a gut-punching 50 per cent. The reason? Delhi’s refusal to stop buying Russian oil. Years of delicate courtship blown apart in a single tantrum.

Beijing smiles

For Beijing, this was the jackpot. Xi Jinping didn’t have to lift a finger — Trump was doing the work of driving a wedge between America’s two biggest Asian irritants. In Zhongnanhai, the schadenfreude must have been sweet.

And so the stage was set for a strange twist. Modi, who had spent years bristling against Xi, suddenly found himself thawing relations with Beijing. The ice cracked last October in Kazan, Russia, when the two leaders met on the sidelines of a summit. Since then, the traffic has only grown. Restrictions eased. Pilgrims allowed into Tibet again. Flights whispered back into existence. This month, Modi is stepping onto Chinese soil for the first time in seven years, sharing a table with Xi and Vladimir Putin.

Think about that tableau: an elephant, a dragon, and a bear — brought together less by friendship than by a shared irritation with Washington’s bull.

A tango in the mountains

It’s awkward. Almost comical. A dragon and an elephant trying to waltz — clumsy, lumbering, stepping on each other’s toes — but still moving, because the music demands it. Xi himself called it a “dragon-elephant tango.” Washington, from across the ocean, sees betrayal. Beijing sees inevitability.

But old wounds don’t vanish with one handshake. The 2,100-mile border remains jagged and raw. Remember 1962? When Chinese and Indian troops fought a war in the Himalayas that Delhi lost in humiliation. Remember 2020? When soldiers clashed in Galwan Valley, beating each other to death with clubs and stones on a desolate ridge, like something out of a medieval nightmare. That kind of blood doesn’t wash out easily.

And then there’s Pakistan — China’s “all-weather friend,” India’s eternal rival. For Delhi, Beijing’s embrace of Islamabad cuts like a rusty knife. Add to that India’s ambition to woo global manufacturers fleeing China’s chokehold, and you see just how combustible this relationship remains.

Yet here we are. Trump’s tariffs changed the tempo. And in a storm, even your old enemy’s shadow can feel like shelter.

Xi’s patience, Modi’s calculations

The Chinese press can barely contain its glee. The Global Times gloated that Modi’s upcoming trip proves Washington failed to lock Delhi into its anti-China chessboard. And they’re not entirely wrong.

Modi isn’t naive. He knows Xi is still building roads, railways, and military villages in the Himalayas — dual-use infrastructure that doubles as a border threat. He knows China won’t drop Pakistan. But he also knows his people need jobs, exports, and stability. Tariffs choke that lifeline. A smile from Beijing, however cynical, at least opens a window.

India has always loved the idea of nonalignment — a grand tradition born during the Cold War, when Nehru wanted Delhi to be the leader of the “third way,” refusing to bow to either Washington or Moscow. That spirit never truly died. It just went quiet, muffled by America’s courtship. But Trump, with his tariffs and tantrums, may have just jolted it back awake.

As Vijay Gokhale, a former Indian ambassador to Beijing, wrote recently: China now offers India a critical counterweight to “Trumpian disorder” — capital, technology, and a voice on climate. When Washington closes doors, Beijing slides one open.

The quad on the rocks

Here’s the real kicker: if the much-hyped Quad summit later this year falls apart, it won’t be China that killed it. It’ll be Washington. Trump’s blunt-force diplomacy has turned allies into subcontractors, and partners into pawns. For Delhi, that’s intolerable.

Xi doesn’t have to outmanoeuvre America. He just has to wait while America punches itself in the face.

History’s bitter echo

Asia has seen this before. Great powers come, strut, and stumble. Colonialists arrived with rifles and railways, then left in retreat. The Cold War drew maps in other people’s blood. And now, as Trump stomps through the china shop, the region is reminded of an old truth: survival often means dining with people you don’t trust, sometimes even those who once killed your soldiers on a mountain ridge.

That’s the drama unfolding now. The dragon and the elephant don’t love each other. They don’t even particularly like each other. But when the bull keeps thrashing, smashing every plate on the table, enemies start looking like dinner companions.

Dancing to Beijing’s tune

So the tea is poured in Beijing. Modi arrives, cautious but smiling. Putin leans back, pleased to be needed. And across the Pacific, Trump bellows, convinced that tariffs are strategy.

The elephant shifts closer. The dragon puffs smoke, patient and watchful. And the bull? It keeps tearing through the china shop, blind to the fact that the only thing it’s breaking is its own advantage.

Because in Asia, the music never stops. It just changes tempo. And right now, thanks to Trump’s chaos, everyone else is moving to Beijing’s beat.

*This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.