March 23, 1990 — Prime Minister's Office, New Delhi
The morning was unusually calm. The kind of calm that never lasted in Aryan's schedule.
Aryan entered his office with his coat slung over one shoulder. The city outside was slowly stirring to life, but the file on his desk whispered of a different kind of awakening.
Marked: Priority Telegram – External Affairs Ministry
He opened it.
"Japan has officially designated India as a Priority Trade Partner under its 1990 Revised Global Economic Outreach Strategy.""The UAE and Singapore extend formal invites for high-level delegations to explore industrial partnerships.""NRIs in London, Toronto, and Dubai express interest in launching Indian manufacturing startups.""The World Bank has advanced India's infrastructure review meeting by 6 months.""Initial signals of fund approval positive."
Aryan didn't blink. He read it again.
Twice.
Then pressed the intercom.
"R.P. Kamat — I want you in my office. Now."
20 Minutes Later
External Affairs Minister R.P. Kamat, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, entered with an unusual grin.
"You read it?"
Aryan nodded slowly.
"So... it's real?"
Kamat dropped into the seat across from him and leaned forward.
"Very real."
"Our economic reforms didn't just shake this country, Aryan. They signaled something to the world — that India is no longer trying to survive… it's preparing to lead."
Aryan narrowed his eyes, curious.
Kamat continued, "I've spoken to our ambassador in Tokyo. Japan's trade delegation wants to visit in two weeks. Singapore's Commerce Ministry is drafting a strategic rural investment proposal. UAE wants to co-develop a port-industrial corridor on our western coast."
Aryan exhaled quietly.
"And the World Bank?"
Kamat smiled, more serious this time.
"They want to fast-track your BharatLink–Platinum Road Masterplan. They're impressed. They believe we're serious. And they're looking to approve a low-interest infrastructure development loan worth $8 billion."
"They've never moved this fast before, not even with South Korea."
Aryan stood up and walked to the map.
His fingers hovered over the bold black line marking India's rural expansion clusters.
"They've been watching us."
Kamat stood beside him.
"They're betting on you."
Aryan shook his head.
"Not on me. On what India is becoming."
Later That Day — Aryan's Study
He finally had a quiet moment. The window was open, and a breeze tugged at the pages of his notebook.
Aryan whispered to the air:
"The world believes in us now. But our foundation must be stronger."
He opened a folder labeled 'VillageCode Project'.
He stared at his hand-written note:
"Create a national smart-code registry — 6-digit dynamic rural identity code for every Indian village. Track economic capacity, health data, services, grievances, industry, local languages, and geo-position."
"Stop guessing. Start knowing."
If India was to industrialize sustainably, villages had to become visible — not just administratively, but economically, demographically, digitally.
That's when it hit him.
"We're not just building infrastructure. We're creating a neural map."
"A living nervous system of a nation."
March 24, 1990 — Aryan's Home, Delhi
That evening, Aryan went home — unannounced.
The moment he entered, his mother, Snigdha, turned from the radio and stared at him in mock disbelief.
"Has the sun risen from the west today?"
Aryan laughed.
"Maa, I was hungry. I thought I'd check if you still cook."
Snigdha gave him a look only mothers could give — a mix of warmth and fury.
His father, Omkar, came down the stairs, holding a leather-bound journal.
"They say you've passed a bill that shook the country. What's next? Building an empire?"
Aryan didn't answer immediately.
Then softly said,
"Just building a country where our children don't have to leave home to find their future."
Omkar studied his son.
"You always said you'd write books."
Aryan smiled quietly.
"I still am. Just on a bigger page."
Final Scene – Aryan's Balcony, Late Night
The stars were out. The city lights stretched endlessly. Somewhere, a faraway train echoed like a pulse.
Aryan leaned on the railing, the wind soft on his face.
From behind, his mother placed a warm shawl on his shoulders.
"You look tired."
He nodded.
"There's still so much to do."
She whispered,
"Then do it tomorrow. Tonight, just breathe."
Aryan closed his eyes.
And for the first time in days, he did.