1. The Quiet After Dawn
The meeting had stretched through the night and into the early hours of 15 August 1947.
The rain had stopped, and the corridors of South Block glowed faintly in the first warmth of dawn.
Dr. Saraswati Sinha gathered her papers and bowed slightly.
> "Prime Minister, Sardarji — I'll have my proposals ready by upcoming parliamentary session. The foundation stones must be laid before the speeches."
Anirban nodded.
> "Make sure your words are as sharp as your ideas, Doctor. The press will be hungry."
Patel gave her a gentle nod of respect.
> "You remind me of a young Kamla Devi—only with a blueprint and a blowtorch."
Saraswati smiled faintly, then turned and walked out into the corridor.
Her white sari trailed like a streak of light against the shadowed floor.
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
The room suddenly felt older, heavier.
---
2. Between Two Generations
Patel leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply.
He looked at the map of India, at the glowing outlines of the still-united princely states.
> "You know, Anirban," he said after a pause, "I'm not easily impressed by youth. But I see now why Subhas spoke your name to me before… before he vanished from our necessary future steps."
Anirban's eyes lifted sharply.
> "Netaji spoke of me?"
Patel smiled faintly, a rare warmth breaking through the stone of his face.
> "He said: 'If ever Bharat survives its freedom, it will need a man who can command both steel and silence.'
He told me about a young strategist from Bengal — one who could think like a general but move like a ghost."
Anirban looked away, suppressing a shiver.
He remembered those days — not from this lifetime, but from the life his soul carried: the underground work with Subhas, the coded radio messages, the secret peacekeeping networks in Bengal.
---
3. The Shadows of Noakhali
Patel continued, his tone low and respectful.
> "When the Noakhali riots broke out last year, the reports I received from Bengal were… unbelievable.
Villages that should have burned were silent.
Women who should have been victims were protected.
You used the RSS cadres — men who were ready for violence — and turned them into human shields. You pacified the entire district in ten days."
He leaned forward.
> "And you did it without a single bullet, without a single public headline. Only a handful of fractured bones and minor wounds. No deaths. No rape. No massacre."
Anirban's jaw tightened.
> "Those people didn't need revenge. They needed someone to believe their anger could serve a purpose. I gave them work — rebuilding houses instead of burning them."
Patel nodded slowly.
> "All documented, meticulously. You wrote every statement, every witness account. That's why when you stood for the Prime Minister's election, I knew you weren't just another orator. You were a planner. A surgeon for chaos."
---
4. The Memory of Calcutta
The old lion's eyes softened, remembering.
> "And during the Direct Action Day, you use Subhas network and moved them like thunder and shadow. Calcutta could have drowned in blood, but you two cut the streets off like arteries before the poison spread."
He chuckled quietly.
> "You fooled even the British police. The Governor thought it was luck that the violence stopped at fractured bones and broken windows. But it was no accident."
Anirban's mind flashed with the memory — radio codes whispered in darkness, Netaji's voice calling from a safehouse, the cold air of a night when Bengal could have died but didn't.
---
5. The Lost Alliance
Patel's tone turned wistful.
> "Subhas is in East Bengal now — commanding his own peace teams. The INA men who returned from Burma are now his civil guards. He says the region will calm before mid-September. If that happens, East Bengal will join India peacefully. No Pakistan to the east, and there is a high chance that all of south east asia will be joining India. Imagine that."
Anirban smiled faintly.
> "He'll manage it. He always believed discipline could do what politics never could."
Patel nodded.
> "And now I see why he wanted you here, why he recommended you to me. He said: 'Patelji, when Gandhi's dream becomes a nightmare of compromises, find Anirban Sen. He'll know where the steel lies.'"
---
6. The Unspoken Truth
A long silence filled the room.
The morning light crept across the map of India, touching Delhi, Bengal, Kashmir — and Hyderabad.
Patel rose slowly, adjusting his shawl.
> "When you won the election in the Assembly, and Gandhi tried to make Nehru the Prime Minister, I thought there'd be blood in the party. But you handled it — without insult, without defiance. You made Gandhi believe it was his own decision."
He placed a hand on Anirban's shoulder.
> "That's when I knew, beta — you're one of a kind. You're not just the future of this government. You're the insurance policy of Bharat."
Anirban's eyes lowered, humbled yet haunted.
He could feel two timelines overlapping — the future he remembered and the past he was now responsible for.
> "If destiny gave me this burden, Patelji," he said quietly, "then I'll carry it until it breaks or builds the nation."
Patel smiled, the proud, weary smile of a man who'd fought too many battles but finally seen a worthy successor.
> "Then let's make sure it builds, beta. The British left us a broken spine. You, me, and Subhas — we'll make sure it stands tall before the decade ends."
---
7. The Dawn of Destiny
Outside, the horns of the first Independence Day parade began to sound.
Patel walked toward the door.
> "Get some rest, Prime Minister. You'll need it. Today, the world meets India. But tomorrow, India meets reality."
As the door closed behind him, Anirban stood alone before the map — his reflection merging with the borders of the newborn nation.
He whispered, almost to himself:
> "Sir, I hope you're listening. This time, we won't lose her again."