– Sept 21–Oct 5, 2015
"A Whisper Reaches Delhi"
The early autumn of Delhi carried with it a strange duality—dust and gold. The boulevards near Lutyens' Delhi shimmered under a fading September sun, yet the air still smelled of hot asphalt and lingering monsoon damp. Rickshaws rattled along Rajpath, honking with impatient zeal, while luxury cars with tinted glass moved like predators through the chaos. The city was alive, restless, and humming with ambition.
Hidden among this restless energy was Arjun Rao—the humanoid android created by the MC, his synthetic skin now almost indistinguishable from real flesh. Arjun had begun weaving his threads into the fabric of India's bureaucracy, and his next steps required precision.
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The First Move
Through a carefully engineered introduction from a mid-tier industrialist connected to the corridors of power, Arjun secured a slot in a closed-door infrastructure meet scheduled at the Vigyan Bhawan. The guest list included bureaucrats, corporate leaders, and most importantly, a whisper of a possible audience with Prime Minister Narendra Modi—though nothing was confirmed.
The MC, cloaked under layers of anonymity, didn't enter the hall as himself. Instead, he sat high in the back, just another quiet observer in a sea of suits and khadi. His eyes scanned the dais, watching the subtle exchanges of glances and the weight behind each handshake.
He wasn't here for recognition—he was here to measure the room.
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Arjun's Performance
Arjun Rao, dressed in a sharply cut navy suit, moved like someone born into power. His handshake was firm, his smile calibrated, his voice calm yet tinged with urgency.
When his turn came to speak, he unfurled a vision of connectivity—a seamless India where the North-East, so often forgotten in infrastructural maps, would stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the metros.
> "We have the technology," Arjun said, his voice steady, "to carve paths where none exist. The mountains are not obstacles—they are guardians waiting to open their gates. Bharat InfraWorks is ready to begin where others hesitate."
The room shifted. Senior bureaucrats, seasoned in decades of cautious proposals, exchanged glances. Some smiled politely, dismissing him as yet another ambitious industrialist. But a few leaned forward, pens scratching notes, eyes narrowing not in disbelief—but in curiosity.
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Side POV – The Clerk's Diary
In a corner of the hall, a low-level government clerk, Ravi Sharma, sat hunched over his notebook. His job was mundane: record minutes, prepare follow-up notes, fetch chai when needed. Yet, as Arjun Rao's speech echoed in the chamber, he found his pen stalling mid-sentence.
That handshake earlier—it had felt off. Too cold, too precise. Almost like shaking marble.
That evening, back in his one-room government quarter, Ravi scribbled into his diary:
> "There is something strange about this man. His eyes don't blink the way ours do. His words carry fire, but his touch is lifeless. Who is he really?"
The words would sit hidden in the notebook, never leaving the dim yellow light of his rented room. But history, if it could read, would later smile at the note of a clerk who unknowingly brushed against the mask of something greater than human.
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Backstage – The Real MC
Meanwhile, behind the façade, the MC monitored everything from his hidden channel—expressions, micro-reactions, even the subtle tightening of bureaucrats' jaws. The true conversation was not in what was said aloud, but in who whispered to whom afterward.
When a senior infrastructure secretary leaned into another's ear and murmured, "Check his company papers again… Bharat InfraWorks came from nowhere," the MC marked it as progress. Suspicion was not resistance—it was attention. And attention was the first step to influence.
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The Whisper to the PM
By the end of the week, a report quietly reached the Prime Minister's desk. It was thin, just three pages long, yet it carried enough weight.
A new industrial player. Unlimited confidence. Talks of tunnels, mountains, and impossible timelines.
The PM's aide placed the file on top of a stack marked "Urgent". Modi, between back-to-back meetings, glanced at the name.
Arjun Rao.
He tapped the file with a pen, thoughtful. "Schedule him next cycle. Just an informal interaction. Let's see if he's worth the noise."
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Closing Scene
That night, on the balcony of his Delhi guesthouse, the MC looked out at the glowing sprawl of the capital. Countless lights blinked like restless stars across the smog-heavy sky.
He whispered softly, almost to himself:
> "The doors of Delhi are opening… now the game begins."
And somewhere, unseen by the world, Aarya's holographic projection flickered to life beside him.
"Shall I prepare the next moves, Master?"
The MC only smiled, eyes still fixed on the Parliament's silhouette in the distance.
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