25 August 1947 – 3:45 PM
Parliament House, New Delhi
The heavy rain had passed. The monsoon clouds were thinning over Raisina Hill, leaving the capital washed and gleaming under a pale evening light. The fountains outside Parliament shimmered, their waters catching the last gold of the day. Inside, the session had resumed after a brief recess — and yet the mood was more charged than it had been all morning.
Prime Minister Anirban Sen leaned back in his chair at the Treasury bench, fingers interlocked, as if gauging the pulse of a restless nation through the hum of debate that rolled like low thunder through the chamber.
Only two days had passed since Independence's legal framework had begun to take shape through acts, ordinances, and arguments. India was, in every sense, being written into existence.
The House Clerk struck his gavel.
"Next agenda item: Health and Welfare (General) — Continuation of Address by the Honourable Minister of Health and Welfare, Rajkumari Amrit Kaur."
The chamber fell quiet.
Rajkumari Amrit Kaur rose again. The afternoon sun through the high windows framed her in light. She held a stack of handwritten notes — though those who knew her knew she rarely read from them. Her speeches came not from paper but from conviction.
> "Honourable Prime Minister, esteemed Members," she began, "I spoke earlier of hospitals, of patients, and of our dream for a National Health Authority. But health is not built in hospitals alone. It is built in every meal, every medicine, every grain that enters our homes."
She glanced across the hall; even Opposition benches listened intently.
> "Our citizens are not dying merely from disease — they are dying from the absence of trust. They cannot trust the doctor, because he has no medicine. They cannot trust the medicine, because it may be counterfeit. They cannot trust the food, because it is adulterated. What kind of freedom is that?"
Her words cut like tempered steel.
> "Under British administration, India was treated as a field for profit, not as a body to be healed. The so-called pharmaceutical trade was a jungle of unregulated agents. Morphine diluted with chalk, quinine mixed with brick dust — these were not exceptions but routine. And when patients died, the blame fell on poverty, not poison."
Gasps and murmurs rippled across the hall.
Anirban Sen raised a hand to still them.
Rajkumari continued.
> "So I propose the creation of an authority — Central Drugs Standard Control Organisation, or CDSCO. It shall be the sentinel of our pharmaceutical system. No drug shall be manufactured, imported, or sold in this Republic without its registration, inspection, and approval."
> "It will license producers, monitor quality, and maintain a central pharmacopoeia — a standard of purity written not in profit but in science."
Her voice rose slightly.
> "Each province shall have laboratories under this organisation, testing the medicines before they reach the people. Let every Indian child's first dose of medicine bear the seal of trust from the Republic of India."
The chamber erupted in applause.
A few MPs rose to join their hands — even those usually cynical of bureaucratic expansion.
But Rajkumari was not finished. She waited for the applause to fade, then spoke again, her tone softer but more dangerous.
> "And now, to food — the first medicine of all."
The hall quieted once more.
> "Food adulteration is not new, but its scale today is monstrous. I have seen rice mixed with stones, ghee with animal fat, milk with chalk water, and sugar whitened with bone dust. It is not merely theft — it is a silent assassination of our people's health."
An MP from the Bombay Presidency shouted, "Madam Minister, but how will the government test every grain? It's impossible!"
She turned toward him sharply.
> "Then, Honourable Member, we shall build the system that makes it possible."
Laughter, nervous and respectful, rippled across the benches.
> "I therefore propose the creation of another authority — Food Safety and Standards Authority of India, or FSSAI. It will oversee every consumable item in the Indian market. It shall set the standards for nutrition, hygiene, and safety. Every mill, every bottling plant, every oil press shall answer to it."
> "Each province shall have its Regional Food Testing Laboratories, reporting to the Central Authority. Our citizens must know that when they eat, they do not gamble with death."
She looked down briefly at her notes.
> "The FSSAI will work hand in hand with our National Nutrition and Food Security Commission — as proposed in the August 23 session — ensuring that food security, quality, and health march together."
A pause, then she added:
> "And all these bodies — the NHA, CDSCO, FSSAI — will fail without one more foundation stone: Research."
The word hung in the air.
> "For decades, India's medical research was governed by an association — the Indian Research Fund Association, or IRFA. It served loyally, but it was a colonial instrument, directed from London. Now, we must rebirth it as a sovereign organisation, answerable only to the people and the Parliament."
She looked toward the Speaker's dais.
> "I therefore propose the establishment of the Indian Council of Medical Research, or ICMR. It shall house within the Ministry of Health and Welfare and oversee a network of specialised research institutions — in virology, oncology, nutrition, and tropical medicine. It shall direct the scientific study of our nation's diseases, our diets, our DNA."
Her tone turned reverent.
> "We must no longer wait for Cambridge or London to tell us what fevers our people die of. We must study ourselves, heal ourselves, trust ourselves."
For a moment, even the ceiling fans seemed to slow.
Then, from the benches, came a skeptical voice — Mahavir Tyagi, the old soldier-MP from Dehradun.
> "But Madam Minister," he said, rising, "you propose three new authorities — NHA, CDSCO, and FSSAI — and a research council besides. How will we pay for this? The treasury is already thin. Will we tax the farmers further?"
The chamber stirred again. Finance always provoked unease.
Rajkumari smiled faintly — the smile of someone ready for battle.
> "No, Honourable Member. We will not tax the farmer; we will heal him. The funds shall come from the MediFund for now, whose creation this House approved earlier today. The LICI shall invest the citizens' premiums, and a portion of its profits shall be dedicated to healthcare infrastructure and research."
> "For too long, the profit of Indian life has gone to foreign hands. Now it will circle back to our own."
Anirban Sen nodded approvingly. "Let that be entered into record," he said quietly.
The Speaker struck his gavel.
"The proposal of the Honourable Minister to establish the Indian Council of Medical Research, the Central Drugs Standard Control Organisation, and the Food Safety and Standards Authority shall be recorded and referred to the Committee on Public Health for formal drafting of legislation."
The chamber broke into applause again — but this time, it was less ceremonial and more genuine. There was something new in the air: structure, foresight, purpose.
As the session adjourned for the day, the golden light of dusk spilled through the long corridors of Parliament. Clerks scurried with files; reporters rushed to telegraph their summaries; and the ministers, weary but charged, prepared for the next task — to act.
---
Later That Evening – Prime Minister's Office, South Block
It was past 7:00 PM. The air smelled faintly of petrichor and cigarette smoke. A storm brewed again over Delhi, faint flashes of lightning flickering beyond the sandstone arches.
Inside his modest office, Prime Minister Anirban Sen sat at the long teak table, surrounded by the few people he trusted most.
Present were:
Rajkumari Amrit Kaur, Minister of Health and Welfare
Saraswati Sinha, Minister of Education
B.R. Ambedkar, Minister of Law and Justice
R.K. Shanmukham Chetty, Finance Minister
Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, Minister of Home Affairs
Jagjivan Ram, Minister of Labour
V.T. Krishnamachari, Principal Secretary to the Prime Minister
The room was dimly lit; a hurricane lamp flickered on the side table as power fluctuations continued across the city. On the wall behind Anirban hung a simple map of India — newly redrawn, still unframed.
He spoke softly, but his tone commanded attention.
> "We have approved ideas in Parliament. Now we must build institutions. The people are watching, and the world is listening."
He turned to Rajkumari first.
> "Rajkumariji, your proposals today were bold — and necessary. The NHA, CDSCO, FSSAI, ICMR — these will form the spine of our welfare state. I want the executive orders drafted and signed tonight."
Rajkumari nodded, opening her folder.
> "I have them ready, Prime Minister. Drafts vetted by the Law Department."
> "Good," he said. "The sooner these bodies are formed, the sooner we can begin recruiting scientists and administrators. Independence means little if our citizens still die without medicine."
patelji grunted in agreement.
> "The Army hospitals in Punjab are overcrowded already. Civilian doctors are few. We'll need coordination fast."
Anirban turned to Saraswati Sinha, seated beside him.
> "Saraswati, you and Amrit will need to work closely. The Ministry of Education must oversee the creation of medical universities and training institutes under ICMR. Research and teaching cannot be separate. And also did you Prepare the draft for UGC to be reconstitute"
Saraswati, still the youngest in the room, nodded respectfully.
> "Yes, Prime Minister. I already prepared the draft and we can begin by upgrading the existing medical colleges at Calcutta, Madras, and Bombay into national teaching institutions under joint charters."
Rajkumari added, "And create All India Institute of Medical Sciences to be our model for the the World."
The Prime Minister smiled faintly. "Yes. One day, AIIMS shall stand as the beacon of Indian medicine."
He turned to the Finance Minister.
> "Chetty, the MediFund and Pension Fund — we must formalize their custodianship. Prepare the constitutive documents for the Pension Fund Regulatory and Development Authority and the Life Corporation of India. We must also authorize SEBI and IRDAI to ensure capital and insurance markets do not become another jungle."
Chetty adjusted his glasses. "I have the drafts, Prime Minister. But there is resistance in the civil services. Many of the senior ICS officers want to retain the old British departmental structure."
Anirban's tone hardened.
> "Then replace them. Independence is not for decoration. If they cannot serve a free India, they will serve retirement."
A murmur of approval circled the table.
Jagjivan Ram, ever the pragmatic voice, added,
> "The workers' unions are restless, Prime Minister. If the MediFund and LICI promise health coverage, we can negotiate peace. The labour strikes will reduce."
Anirban nodded.
> "Then make sure they understand this. We are not building charity; we are building sovereignty through welfare."
He rose and walked toward the window, where rain streaked down the glass. His reflection was faint, spectral.
> "For centuries, we have been subjects. Now we must learn to govern — to regulate not only the people but the systems that govern their lives."
He turned back, eyes glinting behind his spectacles.
> "From this day, the Republic shall have 6 new instruments of power:"
He began to count them on his fingers.
> "One — LICI, to secure our people's lives and capital.
Two — PFRDA, to ensure old age and retirement with dignity.
Three — SEBI, to safeguard the integrity of our markets.
Four — IRDAI, to regulate insurance and prevent speculation.
Five — ICMR, to lead our scientific understanding of life itself."
Six— UGC, to lead our Higher Education
> "And under them, CDSCO and FSSAI — our guardians of purity and trust."
The room was silent. The only sound was the slow rhythm of rain outside and the distant rumble of thunder over the Yamuna.
He walked back to his desk, signing each executive act one by one — the pens scratching across parchment, a sound that seemed almost ceremonial.
When he reached the final document, the Executive Order Constituting the Indian Council of Medical Research, he paused.
He looked at Rajkumari and said quietly:
> "Let this be remembered, Rajkumari — in a land where so many died of neglect, this is our vow that every Indian life matters."
She bowed her head. "History will remember, Prime Minister."
---
Midnight – The Moment of Signatures
By midnight, as the clock struck twelve, the lamps still burned in South Block. Clerks moved like ghosts, stamping seals, recording entries, tying red ribbons around newly bound files.
One by one, the acts were signed:
Executive Act No. 19 of 1947 — Establishment of the Life Insurance Corporation of India (LICI)
Executive Act No. 20 of 1947 — Formation of the Pension Fund Regulatory and Development Authority (PFRDA)
Executive Act No. 21 of 1947 — Authorization of the Securities and Exchange Board of India (SEBI)
Executive Act No. 22 of 1947 — Constitution of the Insurance Regulatory and Development Authority of India (IRDAI)
Executive Act No. 23 of 1947 — Creation of the Indian Council of Medical Research (ICMR)
Executive Acts Nos. 24 and 25 — Formation of CDSCO and FSSAI under the Ministry of Health and Welfare.
Executive Acts Nos. 26 — Creation of University Grants Commission under the Ministry of Education, Science and Technology.
The rain had ceased. The night was silent, save for the faint sound of temple bells somewhere across the city.
Anirban Sen placed the final seal on the ICMR document.
He exhaled, the weight of the nation visible on his shoulders.
> "Six pillars, Saraswati," he murmured, looking toward the young minister beside him. "Finance, Insurance, Markets, Education , Pensions, and Medicine. They will not stand tall immediately — but they will endure. Long after we are gone, they will be the bones of India's sovereignty."
Saraswati nodded, her eyes reflecting both exhaustion and awe.
> "And someday, Prime Minister, when the children of this land live long, learn freely, and retire without fear — they will not know our names, but they will live our work."
Anirban smiled faintly.
> "That is the only immortality I seek."
---
Dawn – 26 August 1947
As dawn broke over Delhi, the rain-washed city glimmered under the pale orange sky. The flags atop North and South Block fluttered gently in the early breeze.
In the quiet corridors of government, the files rested — sealed, stamped, and sent to the Gazette for publication.
And somewhere in near future there will be a modest clinic in Old Delhi, a nurse will gave a small child a dose of quinine — the bottle stamped for the first time with a new mark:
"Tested and Approved – Central Drugs Standard Control Organisation."
Thats when people will understand Republic was already beginning to breathe.