The Political Influence

The Central Authority of India?" Shocked Rashmi scrambled to process Jai's words. Her mind reeled. The government she'd always known, the one that was supposed to protect its citizens, was a puppet on the strings of a criminal organization. A cold dread settled in her stomach. How deep did this corruption go? Who else was involved?

"Indeed," said Jai, his voice grave. "Aka knew that this wouldn't be sustainable. All that gold wouldn't stay hidden forever, and the brutality of their expansion would eventually draw scrutiny. So, he devised a cunning plan."

Rashmi leaned forward, her eyes locked on Jai. A fierce determination ignited within her. She had to expose the truth, no matter the cost.

"He used the gold to fund a local political party here in Karnataka," Jai explained. "The Revolutionary Party of Karnataka, the RPK. With endless resources at their disposal, they swept across state elections. Four states in quick succession fell under their control."

"So they bought the votes," said Rashmi. Jai nodded grimly.

"Exactly. And they didn't stop there. They extended their influence to the Union Elections, applying the same tactics they secured a win under the leadership of Pandya. At this point in time, the party's name was changed to the Coman Peoples Party. The CPP." "Did PM Pandya know everything happening in CGM?" asked Rashmi. Jai answered, "He was like a puppet ruler to Aka, but he never let Pandya feel such. Aka invited Pandya to almost every meeting held in CGM."

In CGM, 1966

The grand meeting hall in CGM echoed with the heavy footsteps of Aka as he strode towards his ornate throne-like chair. Shan, his ever-present right-hand man, followed a few paces behind. The air crackled with tension as Aka scanned the assembled figures. There was Pandya, the Prime Minister, a man who exuded an air of forced joviality that couldn't mask the simmering resentment in his eyes. And then there were the three thorns on Aka's side: Varun, Vikram, and Daniel. These men had never accepted Aka's leadership, and their simmering discontent was a constant threat.

"What's the motive for the meeting today?" Pandya inquired, his voice laced with a false cheer. He knew better than to question Aka directly. Aka's gaze narrowed.

"I don't think you and your party are hungry for power anymore, are you, Pandya?" His voice was a low rumble, a dangerous undercurrent beneath the words.

Pandya's smile faltered for a brief moment, but he quickly recovered, "Why? What's the matter?"

"You are not serious about power," Aka continued, his voice dripping with contempt. "You are just lining your own pockets. You and the other party leaders are growing fat and complacent. You are not giving me a reason to keep investing in you." The threat hung heavy in the air.

Pandya swallowed nervously. He was a puppet, but even puppets could dream of cutting the strings, "What would you have us do?"

A cruel smile played on Aka's lips, "Firstly, a change of scenery. I want you to replace all 28 candidates from Karnataka for next year."

"Aka, it will be done," replied Pandya, his response reflected a sense of obligation.

"Secondly, assign one of our members to the defense force of India, who will oversee the distribution of all weapons to the army," Aka continued, his voice resonating with unwavering authority. The ornately carved mahogany table that served as the focal point of the meeting hall seemed to shrink under the weight of his pronouncements. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting long shadows that danced on the opulent Persian rugs lining the floor.

"It'll be done in the next 2-3 months," Pandya assured Aka, his voice devoid of the usual conviction. A disquietude gnawed at him, a growing awareness of the precariousness of his position. He was a prisoner in a gilded cage, forced to comply with Aka's demands while harboring a secret yearning for freedom.

As Aka rose from his throne-like seat, signaling the conclusion of the meeting, Pandya felt a surge of relief. The oppressive atmosphere in the room, thick with the unspoken tension between them, was almost suffocating. Shan, Aka's ever-present shadow, mirrored his leader's movements, their footsteps echoing on the polished marble floor as they exited the chamber.

The moment the doors shut behind them, the silence in the room shattered. Daniel, a man whose fiery spirit had been simmering throughout the meeting, finally erupted, "Are you happy with this behavior of Aka?" he questioned, his voice tinged with mixed frustration and disgust.

Pandya remained silent, his gaze fixed downward. He knew the answer would only fuel the flames of discontent already flickering in the room. Daniel's outburst was a reflection of their shared resentment, a sentiment that had been festering for far too long.

Vikram, a man of action with a warrior's build, interjected, his frustration palpable. "Coward! Can't you even raise your voice for yourself?"

"If we were in power, things would be different," asserted Daniel, his tone laced with defiance.

A spark of hope flickered in Pandya's eyes. "So, you three also share my sentiments," Pandya finally spoke, lifting his gaze to meet theirs.

"Does it even matter? We can't initiate anything ourselves," Varun remarked, his voice tinged with the weariness of a man who had fought a losing battle for too long.

Pandya bristled at the defeatist tone, "Don't go ahead of yourself. We all know it. You are not the only one who understands the situation," he replied, a hint of aggression sharpening his voice.

"Lecturing as if you've done something about it," retorted Varun, his frustration bubbling over. The simmering tension between them threatened to erupt into a full-blown confrontation.

Suddenly, Pandya slammed his fist on the table, the sound echoing through the chamber, "I have a PLAN!" he shouted, his voice laced with a newfound confidence that startled the others. Undeterred, Pandya pressed on, his voice regaining its persuasive edge.

"But your help is required." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the three men, searching for a flicker of agreement. Seeing a reluctant nod from each of them, he continued, his confidence growing with every word. "I've found a prodigy in Mumbai who could help us kill Aka." A collective gasp escaped their lips. The notion of assassinating Aka was a dangerous proposition, one they had only dared to dream about in hushed whispers. Now, the possibility hung heavy in the air, a tangible entity that demanded a decision.

"How did you find him?" questioned Daniel, his curiosity piqued despite the inherent risk involved. A furrow etched itself between his brows as he leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Pandya.

"I remember back then when I was running my election campaign in Mumbai, there was news that a boy merely 16, killed a police officer," Pandya recounted, "I went to see his family in the hospital to show how sensitive I was and to give them some financial help so they could vote for me. I saw the man's head leaking of blood—the boy was brutal on him, his face was merely identifiable by the photo in the hand of his wife."

"Where would I find him in Mumbai?" asked Daniel, eager to learn more.

"He works for Shetty. Find Shetty, you'll find him," Pandya replied with certainty.

"But you didn't tell his name," Vikram pointed out.

Pandya smiled slyly, "Vazeer."