Chapter 66 #4
"But I am not here to talk about the past or ask for votes based on accomplishments from twenty years ago.
Today's world is fast, inclusive, and ever-changing.
Even five years can make a massive difference.
Take Andhra Pradesh in 2020: the voters chose freebies over a government prioritising development, jobs, and uplifting the poor.
The state slowed, multinationals exited, and people suffered—but had no recourse for five years.
By 2025, they corrected their choice, prioritising growth, and the state recovered, but those lost five years are gone forever.
"All I want to say is this: choose your leaders wisely.
Evaluate what they have done and what they can do.
Only vote for me if you believe I can do good for you.
Do not vote thinking of what my predecessors in the party have done—think about today, now, and what is possible for the next five years. Thank you."
Shaurya walked calmly toward his convoy. He hadn't intended to speak about Andhra Pradesh, but the example was necessary. People needed to understand the power of their vote, and a live illustration made the lesson undeniable.
The moment Shaurya's words reached the media, silence fell—his speech wasn't just a statement; it was a declaration of authority and vision. Outside the party headquarters, supporters watched, some cheering, some silent, all absorbing the weight of his message.
Journalists replayed his lines, dissecting every word.
He hadn't attacked anyone, yet the statement hit harder than any criticism: "Only vote for me if you believe I can do good for you.
" Bold, confident, and a challenge in itself.
Citizens debated online, praising or questioning, but the focus had shifted from his father's arrest to trust in leadership.
Inside the party, loyalists exchanged glances—proud, anxious, aware of the unspoken power in his words. Neutral observers couldn't ignore it either. Shaurya's calm, precise, and strategic tone showed he wasn't reacting—he was controlling the narrative.
Publicly, he displayed humility and determination; privately, he knew this was a chess move.
He had established the unshakable truth: he fought for the people, he respected the law, and he acted only with their interests in mind.
His authority was unquestionable, his vision undeniable, and his path forward clear.
Even the cynics had to admit it: Shaurya wasn't merely a politician in crisis—he was a strategist turning chaos into opportunity, one calculated sentence at a time.
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Shaurya's speech to the party members went viral, especially the portions where he spoke about the country, the state, and the people.
His clarity and restraint struck a chord.
The clips of his interaction with reporters outside the party headquarters spread just as fast. While some trolled him for dragging another state into his political narrative, most people understood the larger point he was trying to make.
His reaction to his father's arrest—and his calm, repeated statement that "law must take its course"—sparked a new wave of speculation.
Many began to believe that Shaurya himself was behind his corrupt father's downfall.
The assumption wasn't entirely baseless.
By then, a majority of the public already believed Virendar Shekhawat was guilty, and his suspension from the party only reinforced that belief.
Soon after, several of Virendar's loyalists were also suspended for allegedly participating in unlawful activities, tightening the noose further.
From prison, Virendar Shekhawat began sending messages through his men to his supporters. The messages were venomous, filled with accusations and subtle threats—many of them aimed directly at Shaurya. Shaurya ignored them. To him, it was just noise from a man losing control.
That changed the day Virendar dragged Akansha into it.
He blamed her for turning his son against him, accused her of influencing Shaurya, and went as far as claiming she had conspired with the central government to engineer his removal from the party. That was the line Virendar should never have crossed.
Until then, Shaurya had consciously chosen not to expose his father himself. But the moment Virendar spoke ill of his wife, his patience snapped. This was no longer political. It was personal.
And Shaurya was done staying silent.
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The trial began swiftly. With the CBI already filing a detailed chargesheet and the evidence overwhelmingly strong, the party knew Virendar Shekhawat would lose the case.
Anticipating the inevitable, the party released the findings of its internal inquiry to the public, officially declaring Virendar Shekhawat guilty and removing him from the party permanently.
The announcement caused chaos, but Shaurya managed to contain it.
Still, one truth remained impossible to ignore—Virendar Shekhawat's unlawful activities had gone unnoticed for over two decades.
That silence had stained the party's credibility deeply.
Shaurya saw this as an opportunity. A reset.
He began contemplating the dissolution of the party itself and the formation of a new one—built on uncompromising founding values.
Before taking such a drastic step, he decided to discuss it with his family.
That evening, Akansha, Akash, Dev, Rachna, Aakriti, Rajnath, and Shaurya gathered at his residence.
Shaurya laid out his vision. He asked Akansha, Rachna, and Aakriti to begin drafting the founding principles of the new party.
Everyone understood how difficult this path would be—until Akansha spoke.
"Shaurya... I don't understand why you insist on climbing a mountain to get an apple when you can just buy the same fruit from the market nearby," she said casually, taking a bite of the apple in her hand.
"Really, woman?" Dev scoffed. "Here we are discussing serious political upheaval and you're worried about how he got you fruit?"
Then it hit him. "Wait—you cheater. Shaurya, you climbed a bloody mountain to get her an apple? You never did that for me."
Everyone stared at him.
"This man can't even climb the stairs to his bedroom these days, and you think he climbed a mountain for me?" Akansha snapped. "Idiot."
Dev shot her a that's-what-you-said look.
"Are you using that as a metaphor?" Dev asked cautiously.
Akansha gave him a look that screamed of course, you dumb ass.
"Oh. Okay. Go on," Dev said quickly. "Why do you think he's climbing a mountain here? Founding a new party?"
Akansha nodded.
"Yes. Founding a party now is chaotic—and unnecessary. Take over the existing party and reform it."
Everyone instinctively shook their heads. It wasn't that simple. Shaurya wanted no shadow of Virendar Shekhawat, no remnants of corruption.
"Don't erase the party your grandfather founded, Shaurya," Akansha said softly.
"Erase the man called Virendar Shekhawat."
The room fell silent.
Shaurya looked at her as if she had just said something priceless—because she had.
"Think about it calmly," Akansha added.
Shaurya nodded, though the others remained unconvinced. They believed Shaurya would rather start from scratch than rule a party stained by his father's blood-soaked legacy. And they were right—until this moment.
If anyone else had said it, Shaurya wouldn't have considered the idea for even a second. But coming from Akansha, it forced him to pause. That single minute of reflection stopped him from making what would have been a catastrophic mistake.
The discussion ended soon after. Everyone dispersed.
Shaurya headed to the CM's office. After a few hours of work, he dismissed all his staff—including Mrs. Shweta and Mr. Sharma—and attempted to rest. Sleep refused to come. Akansha's words echoed relentlessly, dismantling his carefully constructed plan piece by piece.
Finally, he picked up his phone.
"Mr. Subramanian. My office. Now."
Within half an hour, his senior political strategist arrived.
"Long time no see, Shaurya," Mr. Subramanian said, walking in.
"I thought I'd fight this election without you," Shaurya replied with a faint smile. "Looks like I need your advice again."
"You need to stop relying on me," the old man chuckled. "I'm eighty-four. I won't live forever."
"You still look like you're in your forties," Shaurya said, standing up to hug him.
Mr. Subramanian was more than a strategist—he was Shaurya's mentor, his guide during his master's abroad, and his first employer.
Shaurya had once served as CFO under him, unaware that the man had been a political strategist long before he became a CEO.
When Shaurya left corporate life to serve his state, Mr. Subramanian offered his support without hesitation—and Shaurya had accepted without question.
Years ago, Shaurya had entered politics for a reason he never wanted in the first place at least not that soon but he had to—to clean up the mess his father had created by backing a then-youth leader who went on to commit crime after crime.
Handling that chaos without any institutional support had seemed almost impossible at the time.
Yet, with Mr. Subramanian's guidance and Dev managing the opposition from the outside, Shaurya had sailed through it.
But that support was limited.
Shaurya consciously tried to reduce his dependency on people.
He trained himself to think, plan, and execute largely on his own.
Even five years ago, when he contested for the Chief Minister's post for the first time, he refused Mr. Subramanian's help despite repeated offers.
He wanted to prove to himself that he could stand alone.
Now, he no longer had that luxury, especially after understanding what his wife truly felt. He trusted her decisions.
Akansha was a visionary. She had the rare ability to think thirty years ahead, just like him.
But unlike her, Shaurya's mind was clouded now.
Emotion had taken over. A powerful, consuming emotion—hate.
The fire of revenge burned relentlessly against his parents, the very people who had tried to kill his sister, his wife, and his unborn daughter.
That loss was the reason Akansha carried silent wounds even today.
Shaurya wanted to burn everything that proved his parents' existence, erase every trace they had left behind.
And that terrified him.
In this state, he knew he could not trust himself to make a rational decision. His instincts were sharp, but his emotions were louder. That was dangerous. Talking to Mr. Subramanian might ground him, might pull him back from decisions driven purely by vengeance.
At least, that was what Shaurya hoped. So trusting his wife's capability, he decided to give her idea a chance.