A Normal Day in New Delhi, 2032
New Delhi in 2032 thrummed with the energy of a global powerhouse, India now the world's third-largest economy with a per capita income of $11,000.Connaught Place(place in delhi) buzzed under the morning sun, hover-carts steaming with masala chai, electric rickshaws humming through crowded streets, and holographic billboards flickering with news. Above it all, Rashtrapati Bhavan's domes gleamed, a monument to power in a restless nation. Rashtrapati Bhavan's domes shimmer under a futuristic skyline. Inside the Prime Minister's residence, Rudra Veer Singh (32) prepares for his day, dressed in a deep blue coat, symbolizing the egalitarian ideals of Ambedkar, with a small tricolor pin on his chest glinting with his commitment to unity.
He sipped black coffee, his dark eyes fixed on a news . The anchor's voice cut through: "In 2032 also, the Supreme Court of India has declined to acknowledge same-sex marriage, deferring the issue to the government." Rudra's jaw tightened, fingers gripping the mug. "Uff, these conservatives," he muttered, frustration sharp in his voice. A memory stirred of Arjun's laughter, bright and fearless, from a 2028 protest. The pain of his loss clawed at his chest. He set the mug down, adjusting the tricolor pin as if to anchor himself, and buried the emotion.
Priya, his aide, stepped in, clutching a digital tablet.
"Sir, the cabinet meeting's in ten minutes. The Indo-China summit is priority border tensions are escalating, and they're challenging our economic leverage."
Rudra nodded, his stoic mask returning.
Priya handed him a dossier, a holographic image of Chinese President Li Wei Jun flickering above it. Rudra paused, studying the man's sharp cheekbones and mischievous smile. At only twenty-seven, Wei Jun looked like trouble wrapped in charm.
"This is the man stirring the border?" Rudra asked, Priya nodded.
He tucked the dossier under his arm, Wei Jun's image lingering in his mind as he strode out.
The cabinet room buzzed with tension, ministers' voices clashing over trade sanctions and the Line of Actual Control. Rudra sat at the head, his blue coat a quiet declaration of justice, his piercing gaze silencing the chaos. A hawkish minister pushed for military action, but Rudra cut in. "In 2032, with India as the third-largest economy, recklessness invites ruin. We negotiate from strength, not impulse," he said, his voice steady and commanding. The ministers stilled, his authority absolute. As the meeting ended, Priya mentioned the Lhasa summit, vital for India's $11,000 per capita economy. Rudra's fingers brushed the tricolor pin, his thoughts drifting to Wei Jun's smirk in the hologram, a strange warmth stirring beneath his discipline.
Across the globe, Beijing glittered under a neon-lit skyline. In a sleek office, Li Wei Jun(28) lounged in a tailored silk suit catching the light. He scrolled through a social media feed, chuckling at memes about his latest press conference. A news alert flashed about India's Supreme Court ruling, noting its rise to the third-largest economy with a $11,000 per capita income.
"India's catching up, but still stuck in the past," he smirked,
though his eyes snagged on Rudra's name. He pulled up a video of Rudra's recent speeches which are sharp, commanding, the blue coat striking, the tricolor pin a bold accent. Wei Jun leaned forward, captivated by the intensity in Rudra's dark eyes.
"Well, aren't you interesting," he murmured, a playful glint masking a deeper pull.
His advisor, Chen, interrupted. "Rudra Veer Singh is a tough negotiator, sir. India's economic rise makes him even more formidable. Don't underestimate him," Chen warned.
Wei Jun's smile widened. "Oh, I won't. Let's see if he can keep up," he replied. He replayed Rudra's speech, noting the quiet strength in his posture, the tricolor pin gleaming. Something stirred in Wei Jun, a curiosity he hadn't felt in years.
Later that day, a secure holographic call connected Delhi and Beijing to set Lhasa summit protocols. Rudra sat in his office, the blue coat vivid against the stark walls. Wei Jun's hologram flickered to life, his smile all charm.
"Prime Minister Singh, I hope India's ready to play fair in Lhasa, 2032, with your shiny new economy," Wei Jun said. Rudra's lips twitched, almost a smile.
"President Li, fairness depends on China respecting boundaries, not testing our $11,000 per capita strength," he replied. Their words were sharp, diplomatic, but their gazes locked a moment too long, a spark of something unspoken passing between them.
Wei Jun teased, "Nice pin. Patriotism suits you."
Rudra's reply was cool but pointed: "It's a reminder of what I stand for."
The call ended, yet Rudra's heart beat faster, Wei Jun's playful smirk etched in his mind. In Beijing, Wei Jun stared at the blank screen, unsettled, replaying Rudra's steady voice.
That night, Rudra retreated to his study. He opened a drawer, revealing Arjun's faded photo. A memory from 2028 surfaced Arjun's whisper, "We'll change the world," as their hands brushed in secret. The Supreme Court ruling replayed on the hologram, and Rudra's fingers grazed the tricolor pin. "You'd have fought for this, Arjun," he murmured, grief softening his voice. His thoughts drifted to Wei Jun's teasing tone, the way his eyes seemed to pierce Rudra's armor. A flicker of warmth stirred, unbidden, and he shut the drawer, whispering, "Duty first."
In Beijing, Wei Jun hosted a state dinner But later, alone on his balcony, the city's neon lights reflected in his eyes. A memory from 2030 surfaced his brother's exile. "You left me to carry this alone," he whispered, guilt heavy. His thoughts wandered to Rudra's blue coat, the tricolor pin, the unyielding resolve in his voice. Wei Jun's smirk softened. "You're not like the others, are you?" he said to the empty night.
As dawn approached, Rudra and Wei Jun boarded planes to Lhasa, worlds apart yet bound by the same anticipation. Rudra's face remained unreadable, his blue coat a symbol of his ideals. Wei Jun's smile hid a growing curiosity.