The World Realizes Too Late
October 22, 2009 – 1:00 PM
Jadavpur – Aritra's Villa
The late afternoon sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden streaks across the polished wooden floor of Aritra's villa. The room was eerily silent, save for the constant hum of the television, where the election results continued their relentless march toward an impossible reality.
Aritra sat in his usual place, hands clasped together, his sharp gaze fixed on the screen. He had barely moved in hours. Beside him, Katherine remained still, her fingers curled loosely around a lukewarm cup of tea she had long forgotten to drink. She wasn't watching the news anymore—she was watching Aritra.
He hadn't spoken much. He hadn't reacted.
But she could feel it. The way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, the way his fingers occasionally drummed against his knee, the way his eyes gleamed under the dim light—he wasn't just watching. He was absorbing everything, processing every detail like a machine running cold, calculated algorithms.
Katherine bit her lip, feeling a strange unease settle in her chest. Why did it feel like he had more at stake than anyone else?
The anchor's voice suddenly sharpened, dragging her attention back to the screen.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have now entered the final rounds of counting, and let me tell you—what we are witnessing today is unlike anything in the history of Indian elections!"
The newsroom was in chaos. Papers were scattered, analysts whispered urgently to each other, and the once-confident smirks of the panelists had been wiped clean.
"Let's take a look at the latest numbers!"
🚨 LIVE UPDATE: ROUND 11 RESULTS (1 PM) 🚨
📍 Maharashtra (288 Seats)
UPF – 75 (Leading/Won)
MNB – 28 (Leading/Won)
BVM – 185 (Leading/Won)
Independents & Others – 0
📍 Haryana (90 Seats)
UPF – 10 (Leading/Won
)PDP – 6 (Leading/Won)
BVM – 74 (Leading/Won)
📍 Arunachal Pradesh (60 Seats)
UPF – 2 (Leading/Won)
NDL – 1 (Leading/Won)
BVM – 57 (Leading/Won)
The newsroom fell silent.
Then, like a dam breaking, voices erupted all at once.
"What the hell is going on?!" one of the analysts shouted.
The panelists scrambled to make sense of it, but no explanation seemed to fit. BVM, a party that was supposedly dead on arrival, had suddenly surged past every major political powerhouse in the country.
The anchor, Rajiv Khanna, looked visibly shaken.
"This... this is absurd!" he blurted. "No exit poll predicted this! No ground reports suggested this! How—how is this even happening?"
Another analyst, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, took off his glasses, rubbing his temples. "It defies all logic. We've seen anti-incumbency waves before, but this? This isn't a wave—it's a damn tsunami!"
One of the opposition party spokespersons, a stout man from UPF, slammed his palm on the desk. "I refuse to believe these numbers. This is rigging! This is—this is fraud!"
Across the screen, at various party headquarters, the reactions were just as chaotic.
In Mumbai, the UPF state president stood frozen, staring at the screen like he had been personally betrayed by the universe. In Chandigarh, the PDP leaders huddled in a desperate crisis meeting, phones ringing off the hook.
And in Delhi, at the UPF national headquarters, an emergency closed-door meeting was underway.
5:00 PM – The Media Panic Deepens
Rajiv's voice was strained now, as though he himself couldn't believe what he was about to say.
"Ladies and gentlemen… we are now entering the final round of counting. And—and I cannot stress this enough—Bhavishya Vikas Morcha is on track to form the next government in all three states."
The words hung in the air, unreal. Impossible.
The live ticker rolled in brutal finality:
🚨 ROUND 13 – FINAL RESULTS (5 PM) 🚨
📍 Maharashtra (288 Seats)
BVM – 272 ✅ (Absolute Majority)
UPF – 12
MNB – 4
📍 Haryana (90 Seats)
BVM – 85 ✅ (Absolute Majority)
UPF – 3
PDP – 2
📍 Arunachal Pradesh (60 Seats)
BVM – 57 ✅ (Absolute Majority)
UPF – 2
NDL – 1
A stunned silence stretched through the newsroom.
Then, chaos.
The panelists were yelling over each other. Spokespersons from opposition parties were openly calling for EVM recounts, legal challenges, and street protests.
"This is a sham election!" one of them screamed. "We will NOT accept these results!"
"The people of India have been deceived!" another shouted.
"The Election Commission must immediately intervene!"
Aritra leaned back slightly, a small, knowing smile playing at the corner of his lips.
They were too late.
They could scream, cry, threaten, but the people had already spoken.
Katherine, however, was gripping the edge of the couch. Her heart was pounding.
She had spent months watching Aritra from the sidelines, seeing him weave through the complexities of business, technology, and finance like a master tactician.
But this...
This wasn't just business. This wasn't just ambition.
This was war. And Aritra had won.
Her breath hitched. "You knew," she whispered.
Aritra's eyes flicked toward her, expression unreadable.
"You knew this would happen," she accused, her voice barely above a whisper. "Didn't you?"
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, with the same calm that had unsettled her from the beginning, he finally spoke.
"The world only realizes the truth when it's too late to stop it."
The television blared with breaking news banners, opposition leaders scrambling for damage control, corporate elites desperately trying to pivot their alliances.
But in that moment, none of it mattered.
Katherine stared at Aritra, her mind spiraling.
What have you done?
And more importantly—
What kind of man are you?
The world outside was burning with disbelief, but in this quiet room, Katherine realized one terrifying truth.
Aritra Naskar hadn't just changed Indian politics.
He had rewritten it.
And now, there was no going back.