Chapter 67
Midnight, CM's office, Secretariat
"I know what you're thinking," Mr. Subramanian said quietly. "And you know I know."
He allowed a faint pause.
"You didn't get here by not understanding institutions. You've dismantled balance sheets larger than this state's budget. This isn't ignorance — it's fatigue."
"You've done what needed to be done. He's already gone. The inquiry is over. The office is vacant."
He watched Shaurya carefully.
"Now you're looking at what's left — twenty years of compromise, rot, people who mistook loyalty to a man for loyalty to the party — and you're thinking the only way to cleanse it is to shut the whole thing down."
He exhaled slowly.
"Emotionally, it makes sense. Strategically, it would undo everything you've just accomplished."
"You and I both know a party isn't a company you liquidate and restart under a cleaner brand. It's a living structure — memory, loyalty, symbol, belief. The moment you dissolve it, you don't purify it. You abandon it."
He leaned forward slightly.
"And abandoned institutions don't stay empty. The name will be dragged into dispute. The symbol will be frozen. Ten factions will rise overnight, each claiming they're the true heirs — not of your father, but of your grandfather."
He paused.
"Cadres will fracture. Courts will drag this for years. And the corruption you're trying to erase will become the only thing people remember."
He softens his voice.
"Your grandfather didn't build this party so that it could be erased every time someone failed it. He built it to outlive men — especially the ones who confused inheritance with entitlement."
"The problem was never the party. It was one man who wrapped himself around it so tightly that people forgot where the institution ended and where he began."
"That man is already gone."
He straightened.
"So don't punish the institution for surviving him."
"Don't mistake destruction for cleansing."
"Keep the party alive — its legal continuity, its name, its symbol — because those belong to the people who believed in your grandfather, not to the followers your father cultivated."
"What comes next is harder than removal."
"You purge. You audit. You rewrite. You force the party to remember what it once stood for."
He met Shaurya's eyes.
"History doesn't remember leaders who destroy institutions out of disgust. It remembers leaders who are strong enough to repair them — even when the rot runs deep."
He let the silence settle.
"Erase the man from the institution," he says finally. "Not the movement. You've already done the first part. Don't undo it by ending the second."
Shaurya took a deep breath. He knew this discussion was going to be long, so he decided to make some coffee.
"Want some coffee?" he asked Mr. Subramanian, who gave a slight nod, clearly lost in his own thoughts.
"You know, the kind of popularity you enjoy among the people is here to stay — at least for the next ten to twenty years, even if you leave politics right now.
Very few leaders in our country have ever had that privilege.
According to me, you're not using it wisely," Mr. Subramanian said while Shaurya prepared coffee for both of them at the machine in the corner of his office.
What Mr. Subramanian meant was clear — with the level of public support Shaurya had, he could keep his party members in check more effectively. But Shaurya wasn't fully leveraging that influence, and he understood the point.
"Do you really think I won't face resistance from party leaders just because I have public confidence?" Shaurya asked.
"You will," Mr. Subramanian replied. "But that resistance will mostly be for show — a way for them to stay in the news, nothing more.
Friction," he paused before continuing. "In your party, apart from you, your Home Minister, your deputy, and a few handpicked leaders, people can't recall any other names.
And that's not what any politician wants.
So they'll use this opportunity to oppose your plan of rebuilding the party and trying to erase your father's legacy publicly — just to gain visibility.
But that's all it will be. Namesake resistance.
You won't face any real threat, Shaurya. "
"I'm not worried about their resistance, Mr. Subramanian.
You know my intentions when I considered dissolving this party and founding a new one.
My motive was to throw out all these corrupt people and bring in genuine leaders who truly want to serve the people — leaders who aren't looking to secure wealth for the next ten generations, but to do work that will be remembered by the next ten generations.
And in this restructuring, I can't remove them even if I want to.
Honestly, as long as these people exist, no real change can take place.
They won't allow it," Shaurya admitted, his frustration evident.
"I understand," Mr. Subramanian said calmly.
"But I'd advise you to take one step at a time.
Removing them comes later. For now, your priority should be restructuring the party the way you envision it.
You've already made significant progress in containing corruption.
You'll do better, but first, address the immediate issue. "
Shaurya still looked unconvinced.
"I can't convince myself. Give me another plan to remove them. I don't want them in this new chapter the party is about to witness," he said firmly.
Mr. Subramanian thought for a moment before nodding.
"Fine. Let's go one by one. We'll come up with a separate strategy for each of them. And please, make my coffee stronger," he added, already aware that sleep wasn't an option tonight.
Shaurya had already done that, knowing his mentor well.
He also knew himself — he wasn't someone who settled.
He wanted a clean cabinet when he took oath as Chief Minister for a second term.
Only then could he accomplish far more than he had in his first term, and he was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen.
"By the way... Dev told me you had already decided to move forward with dissolving the party. And as far as I know, once you make a decision, no one can change your mind," Mr. Subramanian said, genuinely curious about what had shifted Shaurya's perspective.
"She can," Shaurya replied with a faint smile, thinking of his wife.
When Shaurya returned with the coffee, the expression on his face told Mr. Subramanian exactly who that "she" was.
"Then I should certainly meet Mrs. Shaurya," Mr. Subramanian said.
"Dr. Akansha," Shaurya corrected gently. "She values her own identity more than being known as my wife. And you're right — you should meet her. She's a visionary. You'll enjoy the conversation," he said proudly.
Mr. Subramanian smiled softly, understanding the depth of Shaurya's love and respect for his wife.
After finishing their coffee, the two men immersed themselves in work. The night passed in discussions — many plans were made, many were discarded — and by morning, they had agreed on a few practical steps forward. Mr. Subramanian left soon after.
Shaurya finished some paperwork and got up to head home and freshen up before returning to work. Just as he was about to leave, Mrs. Shweta walked in.
"Good morning, sir. You have a meeting with Mr. Tripathi. He's here. Shall I send him in?" she asked.
Shaurya glanced at the clock and realized it was already 8 a.m. He had scheduled these early appointments with bureaucrats to streamline pending matters.
"Mrs. Shweta... could you reschedule this meeting? I need to head home. I'll be back in an hour," he said.
Noticing his tired expression and the nearly empty milk container in the coffee machine, she realized he had been in the office all night, running on caffeine alone.
"Sure, sir. Um... Mrs. Shekhawat sent this for you. Chief Security Officer Suraj gave it to me and asked me to hand it over," she said, passing him a bag.
Looking inside, Shaurya realized Akansha had sent his clothes. He checked his phone and saw her unread message mentioning the same. He thanked her silently. He then asked Mrs. Shweta not to reschedule the meeting, but only postpone it by half an hour. She nodded and left.
Shaurya took a quick shower, changed, and prepared for the day ahead.
As he unpacked the bag, a wide smile spread across his face.
Akansha had sent everything he needed — the specific combs he used, his gel, moisturizer, and deodorant.
There were many items on his side of the dressing table at home, but she knew exactly which ones he used daily.
It seemed like she barely noticed such details, but she always did — and that quiet understanding brightened his morning.
His day had started on a high, and he didn't allow the countless setbacks that followed to dampen his spirit.
On his way home late that night, he decided to stop by his wife's favorite bakery to buy her favorite treat — red velvet pastry.
He remembered how she had once asked Mrs. Sudha if it could be made at home because she was craving it, but it never happened.
Akansha had gotten busy, and Mrs. Sudha too had been occupied cooking for 30–50 guests, as Shaurya had been hosting many visitors over the past month.
It was 1 a.m., and he expected little to no crowd. Unfortunately, the bakery was still packed. Shaurya mentally scolded himself for not listening to Suraj when he had offered to pick it up instead. But Shaurya had insisted on getting his wife's favorite dessert personally — by his own hands.
The moment Shaurya entered, the crowd fell into a stunned silence.
"Shaurya sir... please have a seat," one of the customers offered, noticing there was no space left.
"Sir, do you come here often?" another person asked before he could respond.
"That's alright. I'm just here to pick up my order. Please carry on," Shaurya replied gently, trying not to draw attention.