25 August 1947
Parliament House, New Delhi
The monsoon clouds had rolled low over the city that morning, dark and swollen like the mood of a nation learning to stand on its own trembling feet. Beyond the walls of the new Parliament, the hum of construction and chaos filled the capital. Refugees still poured in by the thousands, ration queues stretched for miles, and yet — inside the domed chamber — history was being forged line by line, bill by bill.
Prime Minister Anirban Sen sat in the front row, his glasses fogged slightly from the humid air. The room buzzed with subdued murmurs as Members of Parliament shuffled papers and exchanged glances. The scars of Partition were fresh, and yet, amidst the ache, a strange sense of purpose pulsed through the air.
The Minister of Health and Welfare, Rajkumari Amrit Kaur, rose to speak. Her voice was calm at first, then sharpened by conviction.
> "Honourable Prime Minister, esteemed Members," she began, "in the last session, our young Education Minister, Saraswati Devi, spoke of an audacious vision — a national pension fund to secure the dignity of our teachers, our nation's builders."
She paused, allowing her words to settle.
> "But I must now speak of another crisis — one that threatens every home, rich or poor. Our medical system, inherited from the British, is not a system at all — it is a graveyard of neglect. Hospitals are ill-equipped, medicines scarce, and trained nurses almost nonexistent. When one man falls ill, an entire family collapses under the weight of treatment."
A hush fell over the chamber. The Prime Minister's brow tightened as she continued.
> "So I propose the creation of a new body — a National Health Authority, or NHA. It will not merely build hospitals, but manage their funds, logistics, and medical infrastructure. Every citizen shall have an NHA Card, ensuring that no Indian will have to choose between food and medicine."
She flipped through her notes and spoke with renewed force.
> "And to fund this dream, we must not beg — we must build. The insurance industry is shattered after the riots and the Partition. Dozens of companies have collapsed or fled. I propose that we acquire and merge them into a single, national entity — the Life Insurance Corporation of India, or LICI. It will collect insurance premiums, invest wisely in national industries, and channel its profits into the NHA. In return, the NHA will ensure that those funds return to the people, as health, as life itself."
From the Opposition benches, a senior MP rose.
> "But Madam Minister," he interjected, "why another insurance body when the proposed pension fund will provide such coverage? Will this not duplicate effort?"
Rajkumari smiled faintly.
> "Because, Honourable Member, India will always have two kinds of workers — those in the organised sectors, who will benefit from the Pension Fund, and those in the unorganised, who have no security at all. Even a century from now, the unorganised will outnumber the organised. The LICI and NHA will be their shield."
The chamber murmured with approval.
Anirban Sen leaned forward, tapping his fountain pen against the desk.
> "So we are proposing, effectively, two sovereign wealth funds," he said slowly. "The first — the National Pension Fund, to be managed by a future Pension Fund Regulatory and Development Authority."
He paused, looking up at her.
> "And the second — a MediFund, managed by the Life Insurance Corporation of India, to serve as the backbone of our national health and welfare."
Rajkumari bowed slightly.
> "Yes, Prime Minister. Two funds, one purpose — to protect the body and soul of this Republic."
For a moment, the hall was silent. Outside, the rain began to fall — heavy, cleansing, like the first notes of a new age.
And deep in the western borderlands, far from the parliamentary calm, the Indian Army's forward divisions stood ready — unseen, unannounced — ensuring that the dreams discussed in Delhi could survive the storm brewing beyond the frontier.
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