Delhi - Constituent Assembly Hall - January 5th, 1949
[After Debate]
The Constituent Assembly Hall buzzed with controlled chaos as delegates left after the day’s constitutional debates. The spirited argunts and Savarkar’s cultural concerns had served their purpose. The appearance of robust democratic discourse was firmly established.
Pri Minister Arjun hra walked through the crowd toward the main exit. Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel and his other cabinet mbers flanked him. His face showed quiet satisfaction. Even Indira’s unexpected intervention had remained within acceptable bounds.
The press corps surged forward as they approached the exit. Bulky microphones thrust toward him. Cara flashbulbs exploded in sharp bursts that lit up the scene before everything went dark again.
"Pri Minister, will the Constitution pass by January 26th as planned?"
"Any response to Miss Gandhi’s concerns about centralization?"
"How do you view today’s opposition argunts?"
Arjun’s security detail ford their protective wedge. He offered his practiced smile and noncommittal nods. His gaze swept dismissively over the sea of eager faces and raised notebooks.
Then a voice cut through the noise. It was clear, professional, and familiar, even though it was probably the first ti he had heard that voice.
"Pri Minister hra! How do you reconcile today’s democratic debates with the efficiency your governnt has shown in constitutional implentation?"
The voice struck him like a physical blow. His stride faltered almost imperceptibly. A tremor ran through his chest. He knew that voice intimately. He knew it from mories that were not quite his own but felt absolutely real.
His eyes snapped toward the sound. He scanned beyond his security periter. There she was. She was pushing through the journalist crowd with determined purpose. Shoulder length dark hair frad a face he rembered with perfect clarity.
A press badge hung from her neck.
Rhea Sharma.
’It’s her’, Arjun’s eyes widened when he saw her.
The na surfaced from depths of mories he had carefully kept buried. University libraries where they had debated India’s future with passionate intensity. Long evenings when they had planned to change the world together.
Her head had rested against his shoulder as they dread of an independent India. Their bittersweet parting when she left for London to study journalism while he stayed to pursue his own dreams. Both of them had known it was goodbye but hoped their paths might cross again soday.
All of it belonged to another man’s life and another man’s heart. But his mory made those experiences feel as real as his own breathing. The ability that he was so proud of was now like a curse.
Patel noticed the subtle change. He saw the minute stiffening of Arjun’s shoulders. He saw the way Arjun’s eyes fixed on one particular journalist, as if he knew her.
Rhea pressed closer. Her professional deanor did not quite hide sothing more personal in her gaze. She was studying his face with intensity that went beyond just journalistic curiosity. She seed to be searching for traces of soone she once knew.
"Pri Minister," she continued. Her voice carried careful modulation. "Your transformation from idealistic student to national leader has been remarkable. Do you think the weight of this new position has affected your fundantal beliefs about governance?"
Arjun realized what was happening. She was looking for him. Looking for the Arjun she knew.
How could she possibly imagine the truth? The man she had loved no longer existed. Soone else was wearing his face and carrying his mories like borrowed clothes.
The original Arjun’s feelings for this woman crashed against his consciousness like waves against a cliff. Deep, genuine love that had been set aside for duty and ambition. The pain of their separation.
The way she had looked at him during their final night together. Both of them had known it was goodbye. She had said, "Promise you won’t let politics change who you are, Arjun. Hold onto so part of yourself."
She had been asking for sothing that was now impossible to give.
"Miss Sharma," he said. He saw her eyes widen slightly at his use of her na. It was a slip that revealed he rembered her when protocol suggested he should not.
"I know that the responsibilities of being Pri Minister of India are quite heavy. This is especially true just after Partition. But they are not nearly enough to change the political views that made my foundation in this path. From the start, I believed in strong and decisive leadership. That is exactly what I plan to deliver now that I am PM."
Her pen moved across her notepad, but her eyes never left his face, trying to capture how much he had changed. She was noting the way he carried himself and the diplomatic nature of his responses instead of being completely frank.
"That is quite different from what you believed as a student," she said carefully. "You once argued that India’s strength would co from embracing complexity, not streamlining it."
Patel was listening from the side. He slightly opened his mouth in disbelief. Him? Embracing complexity?
"Student idealism serves its purpose," Arjun replied smoothly. "But governing requires maturity. The complexity you ntion can also lead to fragntation of our nation. That is why streamlining complexity while ensuring that diversity exists is the best possible path."
Rhea scribbled notes. Her expression was thoughtful.
Before she could ask another probing question, his security detail moved him toward the exit. As he passed by her, Arjun caught one last glimpse of Rhea watching his departure. Her gaze was fixed on his back as he moved away.
They approached the car. It was a Rolls Royce Wraith that had been gifted to the Governnt of India by the British Crown as a ceremonial keepsake. The driver stepped forward and opened the rear door. Arjun slipped into the soft leather seat quietly. His mind was still occupied with the recent turn of events.
Patel got in beside him. The doors closed with a quiet thud.
The car pulled away from the Assembly Hall. Its engine ran smoothly through Delhi’s busy streets.
For a few minutes, both n sat quietly. They watched the city through the windows.
Finally, Patel turned to look at him with a slight smile. "That Miss Sharma asked so sharp questions back there."
Arjun nodded. He was still watching the street. "She has clearly done her research."
"Indeed. Though I must say, I was surprised by her second question regarding your student days. What she ntioned does not quite match the Arjun hra I have worked with." Patel’s tone sounded amused.
Arjun felt a flicker of concern but kept his voice casual. "University idealism, Sardar-ji. I believed a lot of things back then. Many of them have changed since then."
"Ah yes, the wisdom that cos with responsibility," Patel agreed. "Still, she seed to have quite detailed knowledge of your student views. More than most journalists bother with."
There was sothing in Patel’s tone. It was not suspicion exactly, but curiosity. Arjun realized he needed to give him sothing real. Sothing that would satisfy without revealing too much.
"We knew each other at university," Arjun said simply. "She was a friend. We used to debate politics quite often."
’’Was’ huh?’, Arjun paused.
He seed to be thinking about the distant past. "The last ti I saw her was when she was going to London to study journalism after college graduation. I had not seen her since then."
Patel’s eyebrows rose slightly. "A friend. That explains it. An old friend eting after such a long ti must have been unexpected."
"Very," Arjun nodded. For the first ti in the conversation, his response was completely genuine.
Patel was quiet for a mont. Then he added with the casual tone of soone making an observation. "She looked at you as though she was trying to find the young man she once knew. That is quite rare to see between ordinary friends."
The comnt was perceptive but not accusatory. Arjun replied, "People change, especially in politics. Perhaps she was surprised by how much." He seed to ignore the second half of the question.
"Perhaps." Patel settled back in his seat. "Though from what I observed, she seed more concerned than surprised. Old friends often worry about how the people they once knew change with the passage of ti."
The silence stretched comfortably between them for a while. Arjun found himself thinking about Rhea’s questions and about the way she had looked at him. The original Arjun’s feelings stirred in his chest. Love and the bittersweet ache of seeing soone who had once ant everything to him.
"You know," Patel said quietly. His voice was gentler. "Whatever history you had with Miss Sharma, it is clear she cares about what you have beco. That kind of personal interest can be dangerous for soone in your position."
Arjun sat silently. He was still looking out the window. How could he not know this already.
"Emotional attachnts make you vulnerable," Patel continued. "They can be used against you by enemies. Or worse, they can affect your judgnt when you need to make hard decisions. As if that was not enough, it also puts their life in danger as well.
So, a Pri Minister like you cannot let personal feelings guide him."
There was a reason why Patel said Pri Minister like him. Because his way of governing is bound to attract trouble. To him, and those who are close to him.
That said, the irony was crushing for Arjun. Patel was warning him against feelings that were not even his to begin with. These were feelings inherited from a soul that no longer existed. They were dangerous because they felt so real.
"I know, Sardar-ji," Arjun said. He smiled. "Personal matters will not interfere with my duties to India."
Patel nodded approvingly.
The car stopped at the Pri Minister’s residence. The driver opened the door. Arjun stepped out into the Delhi afternoon. He was carrying the weight of two n’s lives and the knowledge that one of them had loved Rhea Sharma enough to affect the other.
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[A/N: Extra Chapter tomorrow. Seriously, I thought it will be one Chapter today, but I just saw it at 400 stones]
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