introduction
It was November.
A gentle chill had seeped into Delhi's air, deepening noticeability as soon as daylight faded. Outside the luxurious mansion of Narendra Trivedi, situated in a VVIP colony of South Delhi, the atmosphere today was far from ordinary.
Heavy security was deployed at the tall iron gates. Inside, several vehicles were parked across the porch and lawn of the mansion. Drivers and security personnel were moving about in swift, hushed coordination. It was unmistakably clear that an important—and perhaps secret—meeting was underway inside.
This was the critical juncture following the elections when national politics reached its most delicate phase. The Lokjan Rashtriya Party had secured a victory, but the real game had just begun—the scramble for cabinet positions. Every prominent leader was busily carving out a strong position, locked in a contest of strategy and political maneuvering.
Just then, a slight stir occurred at the small gate of the mansion. The gate opened, and two girls stepped inside—Simran and her friend Riya.
Simran's college hours had already ended. She had dropped by the home of her friend Riya, who lived in the same colony. Now, both were walking back into the mansion premises together.
Simran was wearing a pink salwar-suit with a multi-shaded dupatta draped around her neck. Her large, beautiful black eyes were highlighted with dark kohl.
Her hair was tied at the back, with a few soft strands falling across her face.
Just above the right side of her upper lip rested a tiny black mole, standing like a subtle guardian of her grace.
Walking beside her, Riya spoke in a low voice,
"Looks like a major meeting is taking place today."
At that moment, a raised voice rang out from beneath the trees in the lawn.
"Tell me this... why hasn't this work been done yet?"
The voice was heavy and commanding.
"If I have to sit down and get it done myself, then why have I kept you all?"
The tone of the phone conversation was such that the person on the other end was likely measuring every breath before answering.
Pausing briefly, he spoke again,
"Those who don’t listen to me... I'll show them what I can do. Who is that officer? I'll deal with him myself. Who dares to ignore what Gursher Brar says?"
Riya's gaze instantly turned toward that direction.
"Oh my God..." she murmured softly, "how handsome he is."
Simran looked over.
A crisp white kurta-pyjama with rolled-up sleeves, expensive brown shoes, a heavy wristwatch on his wrist, and a gold kada on the other. Two men stood at a respectful distance nearby, waiting for his call to end.
However, Simran's attention did not pause on his attire, but on his manner of speaking.
She made a subtle face.
"Didn't you see how he's talking?" she said in a hushed tone. "It feels like he’ll intimidate the person right over the phone."
Riya giggled and said,
"He looks good even in anger."
"You find every second guy good-looking," Simran replied flatly and kept walking forward.
Though their voices were soft, the words "intimidate him" floated through the air and reached his ears.
Lowering the phone from his ear, he turned his head slightly.
For a split second, their eyes met.
Neither of them knew that this glance was not meant for a mere second, but was a collision shaped for the times ahead.
Right now, it was only a brief encounter—an unfamiliar exchange of looks that seemed to return to its place without saying anything.
Yet who could have known that moving forward, these two very people would find themselves inextricably bound together?
Neither of them realized that this momentary glance was far more than a coincidence.
And neither knew that destiny was about to tie them into a bond where their own choices would hold no sway.
Simran, without offering any reaction, ignored him and walked ahead with Riya.
The man stood there for a few seconds watching them, then without a word, put the phone back to his ear and moved toward the interior of the mansion.
And inside that very mansion, the biggest power plays were being crafted.
Today's meeting was no ordinary political gathering.
Behind the bustle inside Narendra Trivedi’s residence lay a carefully devised strategy. High security stood outside, while inside the office, senior leaders were immersed in serious deliberations.
The Lokjan Rashtriya Party had recently won the elections. The government had been formed, but the real struggle had now commenced—the allocation of cabinet portfolios.
The biggest issue was the Ministry of Home Affairs.
Narendra Shastri was the strongest contender for this position. Party President Nirmala Shastri also favored him, considering his solid hold within the organization.
However, the real power center of the party was Aryaman Shastri, who was also Nirmala Shastri's son. His influence in both the government and the party was so formidable that no major decision could move forward without his consent.
Aryaman was currently not in favor of giving the Home Ministry to Narendra Shastri.
It was with a full understanding of this complex political web that this meeting had been planned.
The key link of this meeting was Sitaram—a seasoned, veteran leader known for stepping in to create balance and pave a way forward whenever political or administrative decisions hit a stalemate.
It was Sitaram who had arranged this entire meeting, confident that stalled decisions could be moved through dialogue.
Narendra Trivedi’s strategy was clear—through Sitaram, he wanted the support of Gursher Singh Brar, who was close to Aryaman Shastri.
Gursher Singh Brar was an influential MLA from Punjab. Most importantly, he was considered exceptionally close to Aryaman Shastri.
In essence, this meeting was not a direct confrontation, but a diplomatic channel designed to reach Aryaman without creating friction.
Inside the mansion, every face appeared calm, yet every mind was consumed by its own political calculations.
Sitaram sat right there—composed, experienced, and steadfast.
And amid this quiet setup, a momentous decision was gradually taking shape.
