1. The Hour of Power
The clock struck 2:00 a.m., 15 August 1947.
Rain lashed against the windows of South Block, the scent of wet earth seeping through the corridors.
Most of Delhi slept under a canopy of fireworks and freedom songs—but inside the Prime Minister's Council Chamber, history was being quietly rewritten.
Prime Minister Anirban Sen stood near the great teak table, arms folded, eyes sharp.
Files marked Confidential were scattered before him: Junagadh, Hyderabad, Kashmir, Defense, Economic Transition.
Aides hurried in with fresh typewritten copies of the Cabinet List, whispering nervously.
He looked up.
> "Where is Nehru?"
The silence that followed was thick.
A junior aide stammered, "Sir… the Deputy Prime Minister is, um, attending the celebration with his circle at the Imperial Club."
Anirban's jaw tightened.
> "Celebrating while the Republic hasn't even begun to breathe. Good. Then we will begin without him."
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2. The Unfinished Nation
Inside the chamber sat Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, calm but watchful, C. Rajagopalachari, and a few provisional ministers from the interim government.
Cups of untouched tea steamed under the ceiling fan.
Anirban spoke first.
> "Gentlemen, today we have inherited a body without bones.
Our departments are unaligned, our education system medieval, our scientific institutions colonial relics.
If we do not build a mind for this nation now, the next century will be a repeat of subservience—only with different masters."
He paused, then added, his tone colder:
> "And I will not have rhetoric substitute for reason."
Patel's lips twitched into a faint smile. "You mean Nehru's poetry."
Anirban did not answer, but the silence said enough.
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3. The Question of Education
Anirban turned to the folder marked Education & National Science.
He read aloud, "Proposed minister: Maulana Abul Kalam Azad."
He looked around the table.
> "A brilliant scholar, yes. But our children need engineers and physicists more than philosophers. We have speeches, gentlemen. What we lack is steel, circuits, and satellites."
A few ministers murmured; Rajaji frowned.
Patel leaned back, studying the young Prime Minister.
> "If not Maulana, then who, Anirban?"
> "Someone who understands both machine and mind," Anirban replied. "Someone who can teach the daughters of India to build, not merely to recite."
Patel chuckled softly.
> "There is one such person. But her name will raise eyebrows in every where."
> "Name her."
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4. The Stranger in White
The heavy doors opened.
A woman entered—tall, poised, dressed in a simple white sari with a blue border.
Her hair was pinned neatly, her gaze steady but unreadable.
Patel rose.
> "Gentlemen, this is Dr. Saraswati Sinha, founder of Indraprastha University and Saraswati Vidyapeeth for Girls."
Murmurs spread.
The name was familiar in Delhi's academic circles—but the woman before them carried an air beyond academia.
Anirban saw the way she carried herself: grace tempered with steel, humility masking intellect.
Patel continued, his tone measured.
> "Double PhD and M.Sc. in Mechanical and Electrical Engineering from MIT.
Double degree in Law and Finance from Stanford.
Twenty-six years old. Speaks six languages.
And"—he paused—"born in Hyderabad."
Rajaji's brow furrowed. "Hyderabad? You mean—"
Patel cut him off.
> "Yes. The eldest daughter of the current Nizam. But she renounced her titles, her wealth, and her faith when she walked out of the palace years ago. The city calls her the Renegade Princess. I call her the future."
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5. The Appointment
Anirban regarded her in silence for a long moment.
Finally, he spoke.
> "Dr. Sinha, do you understand the risk you invite by standing here? Both your family and their allies in Pakistan will consider you a traitor."
She met his gaze calmly.
> "Then let them. I would rather be a traitor to a dying past than a hostage to ignorance."
A faint smile touched Anirban's lips—the same look he once had as a professor hearing a brilliant answer.
He turned to the assembled ministers.
> "Gentlemen, history is watching. Let this government begin as a government of merit, not of compromise. From this moment forward, Dr. Saraswati Sinha is appointed Minister for Education, Science, and Technology."
Patel nodded approvingly. "A new ministry. And a new kind of India."
---
6. The Quiet Pact
As the ministers signed the formal papers, Saraswati leaned closer to Anirban.
> "You dismissed the Maulana and offended the poet in the same night. You will make many enemies before sunrise."
Anirban smiled faintly.
> "Enemies are proof that we've started doing something right."
Outside, the first light of dawn slipped through the rain clouds over Delhi.
The tricolor fluttered above the Red Fort, and far below, the people cheered for a freedom they could not yet see the shape of.
Inside South Block, the shape of that freedom was already changing—forged by a man who remembered the future and a woman who had betrayed the past.