1. The Empty Hall
It was nearing 3:30 a.m. when the last of the ministers departed from the Council Chamber.
The corridors of South Block had fallen silent; the echoes of typewriters and voices had dissolved into the hum of the rain.
Only three people remained: Prime Minister Anirban Sen, Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, and Dr. Saraswati Sinha.
The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, the map of India still pinned on the wall — its jagged borders glowing under a desk lamp.
The scars of partition still fresh; hundreds of princely states still scattered like islands.
Anirban shut the chamber door.
> "Now that the well-wishers are gone, let's talk about what really matters."
Patel raised an eyebrow.
> "You mean Hyderabad."
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2. The Question of Hyderabad
Anirban walked to the map and tapped the Deccan with his pen.
> "We have to bring the princely states into the Union before December.
We cannot afford fiefdoms in a democracy."
He looked at Saraswati.
> "You know what your father intends."
Her expression was unreadable.
> "Yes. He's preparing to sign a standstill agreement with Pakistan.
He believes he can buy independence with pearls and politics."
Patel leaned forward, his voice gravelly.
> "The Nizam's private militia is no child's toy. The Razakars will shed blood if cornered."
Saraswati's eyes hardened.
> "Then we corner them with something stronger — shame and spectacle.
The Nizam's legitimacy rests on religion and aristocracy. Both crumble under public defiance.
Let me handle Hyderabad. But I'll need full authority and no interference from the Congress old guard."
Anirban smiled faintly.
> "You'll have both. Create your drama — but make sure history applauds it."
---
3. Purging the Party
Patel chuckled.
> "You sound more like a general than a prime minister."
Anirban turned to him, serious.
> "We can't build a modern state with men still drunk on empire and entitlement.
Half the Congress leadership is still bowing to English grammar instead of Indian reality."
He paced the room slowly.
> "We need to clean the party. Remove the sentimentalists, the soft hands, the ones who mistake speeches for policy."
Patel folded his arms.
> "You'll face revolt, Anirban. The party built this freedom."
Anirban stopped and faced him.
> "And I intend to keep it free from them."
---
4. The Drama of Reform
Saraswati's calm voice broke the tension.
> "You wanted drama, Prime Minister? Then make the nation gasp — not with war, but with reform."
Both men looked at her.
She continued, measured and bold.
> "Announce a Right to Education. Every child — regardless of caste, creed, or gender — must study till age fifteen.
Build schools in villages before temples of marble.
Make teachers our soldiers."
Patel frowned.
> "You'll ignite fury from both orthodoxy and industrialists. Who will feed the families when their children are in classrooms? Who will fund it?"
Saraswati smiled faintly.
> "Let them rage. We'll feed them with policy and pride.
And I have a plan — Pension Fund for teachers, infrastructure fund for school, universities, scholarship, research fund. And I am already applying it my institutions.You'll see."
Anirban's eyes gleamed.
> "You realize what you're proposing, Doctor? A revolution wrapped in bureaucracy."
> "Exactly," she said. "Sometimes it's safer to change the world by making it think it's filling a form."
---
5. The Pact of Three
The rain had stopped. Outside, the eastern sky began to pale — the first dawn of an independent India.
Anirban extended his hand.
> "Then it's settled. Patel will handle the iron, Saraswati will handle the intellect, and I'll handle the intrigue."
Patel grasped his hand.
> "And together we'll handle history."
Saraswati joined them, her fingers cold but firm.
> "Let this be our quiet oath — India will not be a begging nation. Not in science, not in soul."
They stood in silence as the light of morning spilled through the high windows.
Three figures — the statesman, the scholar, and the strategist — bound by an oath no parchment would record.
---
6. The First Sun
As the first rays touched the tricolor over Raisina Hill, the guards outside saluted.
Delhi was waking up to freedom.
But inside South Block, a new India was already being designed — one of education, steel, and will.
Anirban turned once more to the map and whispered:
> "Before December, the map must be whole.
Before the decade ends, the mind must be free"