The Silent Puppeteer

October 13, 2009 – 6:00 AM

Jadavpur, Kolkata – Aritra's Villa

The city was still asleep. The first streaks of dawn painted the sky in deep orange hues, but inside Aritra's study, the glow of multiple monitors cast a much colder light. The hum of the air conditioner was the only sound, apart from the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the wooden desk.

Today wasn't just another day.

It was the day.

Election day in Maharashtra, Arunachal Pradesh, and Haryana.

Three states. 438 seats.

For the past two months, Bhavishya Vikas Morcha (BVM) had fought in the shadows, staying away from the traditional caste-driven, religion-focused politics. They were laughed at, dismissed, and ignored by the old power brokers.

But today, they would see if that laughter was justified… or misplaced.

Aritra leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking across Lumen's real-time data feed.

Voter turnout projections.Sentiment analysis.Flagged polling stations with irregularities.

The AI system monitored it all. Every booth. Every district.

"All polling booths are now open," Lumen's calm voice reported in his earpiece. "Initial voter turnout in Maharashtra is 3.2%. Haryana at 4.5%. Arunachal at 7.8%."

Aritra closed his eyes for a brief moment. This was the moment where years of planning would be tested.

If today failed… BVM would be forgotten.

If today succeeded… it would be the start of something unstoppable.

October 13, 2009 – 7:45 AM

Maharashtra – Nagpur – A 'Safe' Polling Booth

The polling station was housed inside a government school, its outer walls still bearing the faded slogans from past elections. Inside, the established party's agents sat like they owned the place.

This was their territory. It had always been.

A group of elderly voters entered, moving slowly. One of the booth agents, a stocky man in a white kurta, gestured toward them.

"Unka button daba do." (Press their vote for them.)

The polling officer gave a lazy nod, his fingers hovering over the machine.

But before he could act—

A voice cut through the room.

"Laws exist for a reason. You cannot vote on someone else's behalf."

Heads turned.

A young polling agent from BVM stood near the booth, arms crossed. He wasn't aggressive. He wasn't loud.

But he wasn't scared either.

The older party workers exchanged glances.

"Beta, this is how things have always been done," the booth officer said, forcing a smile.

"Not anymore," the young man said firmly. "We're recording this booth."

A slow, uneasy shift rippled through the room.

One of the elderly men, realizing he was being manipulated, straightened his back. He walked up to the machine and, for the first time in his life, pressed the button himself.

It was a small victory.

But small victories were how revolutions began.

October 13, 2009 – 10:30 AM

Haryana – Rohtak – A Booth Under Siege

In Haryana, elections were not just about votes.

They were about power. Control. Fear.

And fear had always belonged to the political elites.

Inside a dusty government building, a polling booth operated under an unspoken rule—if you weren't voting for the dominant party, you better not vote at all.

A group of men stood at the entrance, watching. Their expressions were blank, but their message was clear.

"Don't make the wrong choice."

Aritra watched from Kolkata, monitoring the flagged booth through Lumen's reports.

"Vote suppression detected," Lumen noted. "Polling agents from BVM have been blocked from entering."

Aritra's jaw tightened.

This was expected.

And he was prepared.

Inside the booth, a college student, barely 20, hesitated before stepping forward. He had already heard the warnings. Stay quiet. Vote smart. Don't cause problems.

But his fingers curled into a fist.

He glanced over at the BVM polling agent, who stood alone, outnumbered, outpowered, but unwilling to back down.

And in that moment—something changed.

Instead of stepping back, he stepped forward.

A few others in the line did too. Then more.

It was just a few people at first.

Then ten.

Then twenty.

The dominant party's enforcers shifted uneasily.

For the first time in decades, the fear was no longer one-sided.

October 13, 2009 – 1:00 PM

Arunachal Pradesh – A Village Polling Booth

For decades, Arunachal Pradesh's elections had been a routine.

People showed up, pressed a button without thinking, and left.

Because nothing ever really changed.

But today, something felt different.

Tenzing Norbu, a local shopkeeper, stood in line, watching the faces around him. There was a quiet tension in the air.

For the past month, he had seen Omnilink's campaign videos playing in tea stalls, on small mobile screens, even projected in open fields.

At first, he thought it was just another gimmick.

But then, he listened.

And for the first time in his life, he understood.

The people in those videos weren't making promises.

They were explaining how the system worked.

How funds were stolen.How policies failed.How their vote actually mattered.

And today, as Tenzing stepped forward and pressed his own choice, he realized—

For the first time, he had actually chosen.

October 13, 2009 – 4:00 PM

Jadavpur – Aritra's Study

The numbers were shifting.

Lumen displayed live voter turnout projections.

🔹 Maharashtra: 67.4% (+5.1% from 2004)🔹 Haryana: 70.2% (+6.3% from 2005)🔹 Arunachal Pradesh: 74.8% (+7.6% from 2004)

This wasn't normal.

Turnout this high meant one thing—new voters had come out.

And new voters meant a disruption in traditional vote banks.

Aritra exhaled slowly, watching the final few hours tick down.

He had done everything possible.

Now, he had to wait.

10 days.

10 days until the results.

Until the political elite realized that an invisible hand had rewritten their future.

Aritra smirked, looking over the Dakuriah Lake from his balcony as the city lights flickered on.

No one knew his name.No one saw him coming.And yet—

The world would soon feel his presence.