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- Rajvanshi Estate, Calcutta -
- August 14, 1936 -
The Rajvanshi Estate stood as a silent colossus in the heart of Calcutta, its sprawling halls now the center of the most important discussion in India's history. For decades, revolutionaries had met in secret, planning their rebellion in hushed voices, always fearing discovery. But now, the battle was no longer in the shadows.
For the first time, the leaders of India's many factions—those who had once agreed only in their opposition to the British—sat in a single room, not as allies, but as men uncertain of what came next.
Mahatma Gandhi, clad in his simple white dhoti, radiated calm, but his eyes were sharp, his mind keenly aware of the power dynamics at play. Beside him sat Jawaharlal Nehru, his expression tense, fingers tapping against the polished wooden table. Across from them, Sardar Patel leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, waiting.
Subhash Chandra Bose, freed from his British captors by Aryan's forces, sat upright, keenly observing his surroundings. His sharp gaze moved between Surya Rajvanshi and Anjali Rajvanshi—the two figures who had long orchestrated the underground resistance. He had trusted them before, knowing that they fought for India's freedom. But now, the revelation that their son was Maheshvara—Aryan Rajvanshi—made the stakes infinitely higher.
Vinayak Damodar Savarkar, another man who had suffered in British jails, rested his hands on the table, his face unreadable. He had fought for a strong, independent India, but never had he imagined one with a single, god-like protector.
And then, there was Mohammad Ali Jinnah, his demeanor measured, but his presence here spoke volumes. He was a man of law and politics, not a warrior, but his ambitions for the future of India were just as fierce as those of the revolutionaries.
The tension in the room was palpable.
At the head of the table, Surya and Anjali Rajvanshi sat, their expressions composed. They had faced the might of an empire, suffered losses, and built an underground resistance feared even by the British. But today, they weren't here as leaders of the BSS. They were here as parents.
And then, the doors opened.
Aryan entered.
He did not wear the blazing armor of Maheshvara, nor did he radiate the overwhelming cosmic presence that had shaken the skies of India days ago. Today, he was simply Aryan Rajvanshi—clad in a simple kurta and trousers, his blue eyes calm but unwavering.
The room fell silent as he took his seat. He did not speak immediately, letting the weight of his presence settle over the gathering. When he finally did, his voice was steady.
"I know why you are here," he said. "You want to know what I intend to do with this country now that I have revealed myself."
There was no hesitation. Nehru was the first to speak.
"Aryan," he said, his voice measured, "India has fought for its freedom with the dream of self-rule. A government for the people, by the people. A democracy. And now, you declare yourself the ruler of this nation. Can you blame us for our concerns?"
Aryan did not react with anger. He had expected this.
"I never declared myself a king," Aryan said simply. "I declared myself the protector of Bharat."
Gandhi spoke next. His voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable firmness beneath it.
"And what does that mean, Aryan? A protector is still a ruler if his word is law. What is to stop your unmatched power from overriding the will of the people?"
Aryan leaned forward slightly. "My power exists to ensure that Bharat is never again ruled by foreign hands. That its people are never again subjugated. I have no desire for a throne, no desire for blind obedience. But I will not allow the sacrifices of our people to be wasted on corruption, division, or foreign influence."
Sardar Patel, ever the pragmatist, narrowed his eyes. "And who decides what corruption is? Who decides what influence is acceptable? You?"
A heavy silence followed.
Subhash Bose finally spoke, his voice firm. "I do not doubt your intentions, Aryan. I have seen firsthand what you have done for this country. But every great ruler starts with noble ideals. Power corrupts, even when wielded by the righteous. If you do not wish to be a king, then what do you want to be?"
Aryan exhaled slowly, looking at each man in turn.
"I want to be the shield," he said. "Not the crown. Look at it logically—if I truly wanted to misuse my power and place my selfish interests above the welfare of the people, I could do so effortlessly, whether I hold an official title or not, and none would be able to stop me from doing that. But I don't want that, and I won't allow any other force to do the same."
They considered his words carefully. The logic was undeniable. More than that, they were reminded of something crucial—Aryan, despite his power, had remained grounded. That was no accident. It was a testament to his upbringing, his parents, and his own sense of responsibility.
However, Jinnah, who had remained silent until now, finally leaned forward. His dark eyes held none of the reverence that some of the others had for Aryan. To him, Aryan was not a savior. He was a force that could rewrite history in a way Jinnah had not foreseen.
"And what of those who do not wish to be part of the Bharat you envision?" Jinnah asked. "There are those who do not see themselves in your India. Who want a separate nation."
The air grew heavy.
Aryan met Jinnah's gaze without flinching. "Partition is not the answer," he said. "Dividing the land will only invite further divisions. It will not be the end of conflict—it will be the beginning of endless bloodshed."
Jinnah's expression did not change. "And if the people demand it?"
Aryan's eyes darkened. "Then I will show them the cost."
A chill ran through the room. It was not a threat, but a warning.
Savarkar, who had been observing quietly, finally spoke. "I believe you to be a responsible person, Aryan. However, answer my curiosity—do you truly grasp the gravity of being the ruler of India? You say you do not seek to rule, yet you will not allow partition. You say you will not impose your will, yet you will act against corruption and external forces. That is still power, Aryan. You may not wear a crown, but you are shaping the future of Bharat by your very existence."
Aryan nodded. "Yes. I am fully aware and prepared for that."
Another silence.
Finally, Anjali Rajvanshi, who had been silent until now, spoke. "Then the question is not whether Aryan will have power. He already does. The question is—will India accept it?"
Gandhi studied Aryan for a long moment. "You believe in your cause. That much is clear. But belief is not enough. There must be a system. There must be a future beyond you."
Aryan nodded. "Then let us all create one. Together."
The leaders looked at one another. The had long since realised that they didn't have the power to stop Aryan to do what he wanted, and could only persuade him through negotiations. And, seeing him to be reasonable enough to cater to their thoughts and suggestions, they finally accepted his actions, sighing in some relief.
For the first time, there was no hostility in the air—only the weight of a decision that would shape history.
The fate of Bharat was no longer a question of freedom alone. It was a question of what kind of future they would build.
And Aryan Rajvanshi would be at the center of it.
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