“We’ll ensure that poverty will be eradicated from India, the way polio was eradicated. Our Government is fully committed to uplift the downtrodden and weaker sections of society. India, which once was a leading light of knowledge to all countries of the world, will stake its claim once again. Our Government will ensure equal rights and justice to all sorts of minorities, whether they are minorities based on religion, region, language, caste or even gender. To achieve the goal, creation of educational institutions where minorities can study without any apprehensions is one small step. I hereby dedicate the new college of medicine that was institutionalised especially for the minority community, to the nation.”

The speech delivered without any conviction by the Prime Minister of India was a routine one for the speaker and the audience as well. Being the largest country with a sort of functioning democracy, there always were elections in one or the other part of the country, for any of the legislative establishments, and most of the speeches were delivered keeping the next elections in mind.

Rameswaran finished his speech and moved to sit in his chair on the dais. One local member of assembly started addressing the already bored audience, repeating what was already told by others. After spending half an hour at the venue, expecting few thousand votes in the coming election, Rameswaran started towards the helicopter that was parked in the school playground. A local politician ran to his side and informed him about the helipad, “We got this helipad made for you, Sir.”

“By the students?” Rameswaran enquired.

“Yes, Sir,” beaming with pride, the politician with future plans replied.

‘Considering the heat and two days of manual work, it was a crime against children, for they must have been given only a packet of biscuits for a day’s work,’ Rameswaran thought. “We never change and will never let the country change.” He patted the back of the beaming leader and climbed into the chopper.

Once they started flying he waved his hands at the public gathered to see the chopper and asked his secretary sitting inside, “Anything important?”

“One classified communication was received from US. Pakis are planning something big. And it involves nukes,” he paused to evaluate the Prime Minister’s response. Rameswaran sighed and nodded indicating to proceed. “Nothing more. Seems the scheme is in initial stages. Only this much was known to them,” the secretary finished.

“So, where will we watch the full story? CNN or Fox?” Rameswaran asked smiling.

“Seems bids are still open. May close in a day or two.”

Next day morning, when Rameswaran was having his second cup of filter coffee (brewed from freshly fried and ground nuts), his secretary arrived. He opened his laptop and started a recorded news clip of CNN.

“From reliable sources, it is learnt that a nuclear attack is being planned by Pakistani military. Though the schedule, extent of the scheme is so far not known, the hand on trigger will not be an official one. The state machinery is probably helping with organising the attack. Though both Pakistani Government and military have denied any such reports, experts opined that such a critical mission would never be known to regular organisations. Giving credence to the news is the fact that the defamed nuclear scientist, Qadar Khan, is currently out from his house arrest and his whereabouts are not known,” the beautiful newsreader concluded before announcing a break.

Rameswaran quietly sipped coffee contemplating the next course of action when the phone rang. He answered it with annoyance.

“A call from the chief of RAW, Sir,” telephone operator informed in his harsh voice, forcing Rameswaran to consider appointing only female staff.

“Good morning, Sir. You’ve probably seen the news bulletin by now,” Narang spoke in a heavy Punjabi accent. He was more than chief of RAW for Rameswaran. A trusted lieutenant of more than two decades, he was eyes, ears and hands for the Prime Minister.

“Yes,” Rameswaran replied. “See Narang, had you been watching others like you watch me, I would have studied a report by you, rather than watch a news clip of CNN.”

Without bothering to recognise the taunt, Narang asked, “What is going to be the official line and what would be action?”

Rameswaran looked at his secretary and spoke into the phone, “Release a statement that these are mere rumours and we don’t act on speculation. Tell Saxena to form a panel comprising of one member from each of the defence arms and one from Home and Foreign Affairs. Tell him to call the high commissioner of Pakistan and warn that in case there is any nuclear attack, we’ll be targeting Islamabad, Lahore, Karachi and Rawalpindi,” he paused to think further. “Tell Saxena to get nukes ready for launching, by afternoon. You’ll be personally monitoring on my behalf. No one in the Government should know apart from you and Saxena. For any queries, this is a routine exercise to test war preparedness. Meanwhile, get me full updates on this Qadar guy. Find out who in Pak are handling this. Talk to me with some substance in the afternoon after arranging all these.”

After disconnecting the line, he nodded to his secretary as if asking for comments. “Well handled, Sir,” came the standard sycophantic reply. Rameswaran got up to have a bath. He was confused. He didn’t know whether the news was correct or not. And he was not sure whatever actions he may take, whether he could stop the impending catastrophe or not. After all, history was partial to guerrilla attackers and assassins.

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