A Battlefield in Suits and Saris

Date: July 9, 2010

Location: Central Secretariat, New Delhi – Cabinet Meeting Room

The afternoon heat hung heavy over New Delhi, the sun beating down on the sandstone corridors of the Central Secretariat like a relentless hammer. Inside the air-conditioned heart of India's political machinery, however, the temperature was even higher.

At the head of the long, oval conference table sat Prime Minister Dinesh Mishra, his expression carefully neutral, though the tension in his fingers — pressed together in a stiff steeple — gave away his frustration. On the opposite side sat Aditya Pratap, the newly-minted Chief Minister of Maharashtra and BVM's rising star. Dressed in a sharp navy suit, he radiated the kind of quiet confidence that came not just from winning but from knowing exactly why you won.

Between them sat an array of ministers, bureaucrats, and representatives from the Ministry of Home Affairs, the Ministry of External Affairs, and the Tourism Board. Folders, briefing papers, and freshly printed reports were scattered across the table, but it was clear no one had actually read them.

Because this wasn't a policy discussion. This was a clash of ideologies, power, and egos — with the world watching from the sidelines.

"Visa-free entry? Are you out of your mind?"Home Minister Sanjay Goel, a staunch loyalist of the ruling United Progress Front (UPF), leaned forward, his knuckles white against the table. His voice carried more incredulity than anger — though anger was simmering just beneath the surface."Do you even understand the security nightmare you're proposing?"

Aditya didn't flinch. His fingers tapped the edge of a blue file folder calmly, his expression unreadable.

"With all due respect, Minister," Aditya said, his voice polite, but the steel underneath unmistakable, "we aren't talking about blanket visa-free access for every tourist. This is limited to pre-verified attendees of the WarFall Global Finals — ticket-holders only, each of whom has already undergone multiple layers of identity verification through Omnilink's own platform."

"Since when does a private company decide immigration policy?" Sanjay shot back.

Aditya's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Since your government failed to grasp the economic impact of this event."

A low murmur rippled around the room — a few nods from the Tourism Board officials, who were all too aware of the sheer global tourism potential this single event had unleashed.

The WarFall Global Finals had already attracted international media attention on a scale no Indian event — not even the Cricket World Cup — had ever seen. Over half a million fans had applied for visas to attend, overwhelming Indian embassies and consulates in 25 countries.

Some came for the game. Others came for the spectacle. And the rest?

They came because for the first time, India wasn't just hosting an event. India had created it.

The Foreign Secretary, a wiry man with neatly combed silver hair, cleared his throat."While the economic benefits are clear, the optics…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "The optics of allowing visa-free entry for a corporate event — however large — would create a precedent we cannot fully control."

"It's not just corporate," Aditya replied smoothly. "It's a cultural milestone. A national milestone. Do you know how many Indian teams are in the Finals? How many homegrown players will compete in front of millions? This isn't just an event we're hosting — it's an event we built from scratch."

His voice gained momentum, eyes locking onto the Prime Minister. "And if you block this, you aren't just blocking tourism revenue. You're blocking India's first real entry into the global tech and cultural leadership stage."

The Prime Minister's fingers twitched slightly at the word leadership. It was a word BVM had carefully planted in every press release, every speech — subtly rewriting the narrative that India's future belonged to them.

PM Mishra exhaled slowly. "We aren't blocking it. We're asking for balance. Visa-free entry — even limited — opens vulnerabilities. We already have intelligence reports that several banned organizations are actively exploring ways to exploit this influx of visitors."

That was true. In the shadows of the euphoria, certain extremist groups, smuggling networks, and intelligence agencies from neighboring countries had already begun looking for weak points. This wasn't just a game to them — it was a golden gateway into India's security infrastructure.

Aditya didn't blink. "Which is why we proposed a limited waiver program, not open access. We want every ticket-holder registered with Omnilink to be pre-cleared by your intelligence agencies. No tourist walks in unverified. No loopholes. We work with you — not against you."

The room fell silent for a beat. It was a reasonable compromise, and they all knew it. But the real battle wasn't over logistics — it was over power.

The central government had already been humiliated after losing Maharashtra, Haryana, and Arunachal Pradesh to BVM. Now, Maharashtra was pulling in billions in revenue, global media attention, and tech innovation — none of which the ruling coalition could claim credit for.

This was about who would get to wear the crown when the cameras rolled in Mumbai.

"Let me be blunt."The Prime Minister's voice cut through the quiet like a blade. "You may run Maharashtra, but this is still India. Foreign policy and immigration fall under the central government's purview — not your little tech empire."

Aditya's smile sharpened. "Of course. But if you deny us this, you'll be denying entry to thousands of journalists, tech investors, and cultural ambassadors — all of whom will broadcast to the world that India's government killed the biggest global event in modern eSports history."

"Are you threatening us?" Sanjay snapped.

"No," Aditya said calmly. "I'm reminding you that the world is watching. And they'll know exactly who was responsible."

A long silence settled over the table.

The Tourism Board officials exchanged furtive glances — they wanted this to happen. The Foreign Ministry was split, some fearing backlash, others seeing a rare chance to modernize India's global image.

The Home Ministry, always cautious, remained firmly opposed — but even they knew the tide was turning.

Finally, the Prime Minister leaned back, his eyes never leaving Aditya.

"We'll approve a tiered clearance system," he said slowly. "Pre-verified ticket holders will receive an electronic travel authorization — not full visa-free entry — valid for seven days. All applications must clear both Omnilink's internal vetting and IB approval."

Aditya inclined his head. "That's all we wanted."

The meeting ended without handshakes, without smiles. This was a battle neither side had truly won — but for now, BVM had gotten what they needed.

Later That NightLocation: Echelon Holding Headquarters – Aritra's Private Office

Aritra leaned back in his chair, Lumen's display quietly listing the finalized terms of the visa policy compromise. His fingers tapped idly against the armrest, mind already processing the next steps.

Seven days.

Enough time for fans, journalists, and sponsors to flood into Mumbai — and enough time for BVM to write a new chapter in Indian history under the spotlight.