Pondicherry was still French territory, one of the few remnants of their former colonial empire, which the Raj indulgently allowed to stay as being too small to bother with (later they would get short shrift from an independent India). But then the Tricouleur still hung in the sun outside a sleepy Hotel de Ville.
Danny, pleased to say that the last time I went to Pondicherry a few years ago, all the streets still have French names and the police still wear a gendarmes hat. It still is a quaint place.
