After driving for a while, we finally reached Raghavan's company. I parked the car, and as Aamukta and I got out, I saw Bheeshma approaching us with a warm smile. His presence always brought a sense of reassurance.
As he came closer, I turned to Aamukta and said, "He is my Bhaiyya, Bheeshma." Then, turning to Bheeshma, I added, "Bhaiyya, this is Aamukta. She is—"
Before I could finish, Bheeshma interrupted with a teasing grin. "She's your girlfriend, seriously, Krishna? Here I am struggling to handle one girl, and you—"
I cut him off, shaking my head with a chuckle. "Hold your horses. She's not my girlfriend." I then looked at Aamukta with a playful glint in my eyes and added teasingly, "For now."
A blush appeared on Aamukta's cheeks, and she smiled shyly. Bheeshma laughed heartily. "For now, huh? Well, let's go inside. The Agricultural Minister, Ajay Varma, has already arrived."
He gave me a gentle push and added with a hint of concern, "But Krishna, are you sure everything is ready?"
"Don't worry, Bhaiyya. Everything is done," I reassured him with confidence.
Bheeshma nodded, seemingly satisfied, and began walking towards the entrance. I turned to Aamukta and said with a smile, "Shall we go, Cutie pie?"
She nodded, and we started following Bheeshma inside. The lobby was bustling with activity, the energy in the air palpable. The grandeur of the event was evident from the elegant decorations and the steady stream of well-dressed attendees.
As we entered the main hall, all eyes turned towards us. The sudden shift of attention was almost tangible as cameras swiveled in our direction, and the flashes began to flicker like starlight in the night. The reporters, who had been mingling and chatting amongst themselves, suddenly fell silent, their hushed conversations replaced by the clicking of cameras and scribbling on notepads.
I could feel the weight of their gazes as Aamukta and I made our way down the aisle towards the front row, where the VIP seats awaited us. Aamukta stayed close by my side, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the sea of curious eyes. Bheeshma followed a step behind, his calm demeanor a sharp contrast to the buzzing energy in the room.
As we reached the front, we took our seats—Aamukta beside me, Bheeshma on the other side, his broad frame exuding quiet confidence. I could sense Aamukta's slight tension, but when she glanced at me, I offered her a reassuring smile. She returned it with a small, grateful one of her own, and I could see her relax a little.
Just as we settled in, I noticed Raghavan standing up from his seat a few rows ahead. He turned to face us, and his eyes locked onto mine. The look he gave me was one of smug arrogance, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as if he believed he had already won game between us. His self-assurance was almost palpable, like a force field he projected out into the room.
But I didn't flinch. Instead, I returned his smile, letting it widen ever so slightly. It was a smile that said, "I see you, and I'm not impressed." For a brief moment, Raghavan's smile faltered, and I saw a flicker of irritation flash across his face. He quickly masked it, but I had caught it—a crack in his carefully constructed armor.
His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and I could see the storm brewing behind them. But he held it together, controlling his emotions with a visible effort. After a beat, he tore his gaze away from me and strode confidently towards the stage, his posture stiff with the remnants of that brief surge of anger.
As he made his way up the steps and onto the stage, the audience began to applaud, their clapping filling the hall with a thunderous noise. The applause was polite but not overly enthusiastic—a sign that while people respected Raghavan's position, they were perhaps not as enamored with him as he might have liked.
I could see him straightening his shoulders as he approached the microphone, trying to regain his composure. The lights dimmed slightly, and a spotlight focused on him as he prepared to speak. The murmurs in the crowd died down, and silence fell over the hall, all eyes now on Raghavan.
Coming to the front of the microphone, Raghavan adopted a practiced, albeit slightly strained, smile. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. With the increasing population comes a need for an increase in food production in our country. After years of blood and sweat, we present to you the revolutionary product 'Instant.'"
The audience began to clap, a polite but somewhat reserved applause echoing through the hall. Raghavan continued, "This product is aimed at helping our farmers increase their yield and efficiency." He turned his gaze towards Ajay Varma, the Minister of Chemicals and Fertilizers, and added, "My heartfelt thanks to our esteemed minister, Mr. Ajay Varma, for his unwavering support and guidance."
The applause grew louder as the spotlight shifted to Ajay Varma, who acknowledged the crowd with a gracious nod. Raghavan, sensing the momentum, took a step back and said, "Now, I request today's chief guest, Mr. Ajay Varma, to share a few words with us."
Hearing this, Ajay Varma stood up, prompting the audience to erupt into enthusiastic applause. As he rose, he cast a quick, subtle glance in my direction. I gave him a barely perceptible nod, signaling him to proceed as we had discussed. He returned the nod, an understanding passing silently between us that no one else noticed.
Ajay Varma made his way to the stage, his demeanor composed and dignified. He folded his hands in a traditional greeting, acknowledging the crowd with a warm, politician's smile. The room fell into a respectful silence as he positioned himself in front of the microphone, the audience eagerly awaiting his words.
"Thank you, Raghavan, for that kind introduction," He began, "Good evening everyone. I come from an ordinary farmer's family. A farmer provides us with three meals a day, yet he often struggles to have even one decent meal himself."
The audience's applause quieted as they listened intently to Ajay Varma's words. He paused for a moment, letting the weight of his statement sink in. The room was silent, each person reflecting on the harsh reality he had just painted.
Turning his gaze towards Raghavan, he continued, "When Mr. Raghavan approached me with a wonderful opportunity to change this fate, I was intrigued." He gestured towards the large screen behind him, which displayed photos of the new product, and smiled. "He told me about this product, and I was genuinely excited by its potential to do good for our farmers."
The images on the screen showed farmers in lush green fields, smiling and holding the product proudly. It was a vision of hope, a promise of a better future.
Hearing this, Raghavan's face lit up with a triumphant smile, clearly feeling as though he had won the game. Ajay Varma looked at me, and I gave him a subtle nod. The change in his expression was immediate; his face turned serious, the warmth replaced by a stern resolve.
He turned back to the crowd, his voice cutting through the murmurs, "But then I realized something troubling about this product."
The audience fell silent, sensing the shift in tone. Ajay Varma's gaze swept over the room, his eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and disappointment.
"This product," he continued, his voice rising, "is made with a harmful chemical that is banned in 13 countries."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by a flurry of anxious whispers and concerned glances. The atmosphere, which had been celebratory moments ago, now bristled with tension. Raghavan's face paled, the confident smile wiped away, replaced by a look of sheer panic.
Ajay Varma didn't let up. "This chemical poses serious health risks not only to our farmers but to everyone who consumes the crops treated with it. It is a blatant disregard for human safety and well-being."
The room was now abuzz with shock and disbelief. I could see reporters frantically taking notes, their faces reflecting the gravity of the revelation. Aamukta's eyes widened in surprise, and she clutched my hand tightly, her expression mirroring the turmoil around us.
Raghavan slowly turned his gaze towards me, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. I met his stare and gave him a devilish smile, one he would never forget. It was a smile that conveyed everything – the victory, the unveiling of his deceit, and the impending consequences.
Ajay Varma continued, his voice unwavering, "And its usage deteriorates the soil."
A murmur of shock rippled through the crowd. Sweat began to bead on Raghavan's forehead, his nervousness palpable. The confident businessman was unraveling before everyone's eyes.
Ajay Varma didn't let up. "I could've disapproved of this product back then. I could stop this today only because my government is in power now. But what if the opposition comes to power in the next election? What if they get greedy and approve this harmful product?"
The crowd was now a sea of concerned faces, the reality of the situation sinking in. Raghavan's breathing quickened, his facade of control crumbling under the weight of Ajay's words.
"That's why I came all the way here," Ajay continued, his voice filled with resolve, "to let the public know the truth."
The hall erupted in chaos. Reporters shouted questions, the audience buzzed with anger and disbelief, and Raghavan stood frozen, unable to process the magnitude of the situation. His carefully constructed world was falling apart, piece by piece.
I turned to Aamukta, who looked at me with a mixture of awe and understanding. "You planned this?" she whispered.
I nodded, my expression serious. "It had to be done. People needed to know the truth."
Ajay Varma's presence had shifted the balance entirely. The exposure of the harmful chemical in the product and its detrimental effects on the soil were revelations that could not be ignored.
Ajay Varma raised his hands to calm the crowd. "Everyone, please, settle down," he commanded. The noise gradually subsided as people waited for his next words. "The raiding team informed me that the remaining products from Field Science also violate government regulations."
Raghavan's eyes widened in shock. His face drained of color, and he looked as if the ground beneath him had just given way. He swayed slightly, gripping the podium for support as his body betrayed his fear and disbelief.
Ajay Varma took a file from his assistant, flipping it open and signing with a flourish. He looked first at the public, then directly at Raghavan. "Effective immediately, I am canceling this company's license and ordering the CBI to conduct a thorough investigation. Jai Hind."
With that, Ajay Varma gave me one last nod before stepping off the stage. The reporters, smelling blood, surged forward towards Raghavan, bombarding him with questions.
"Sir, is this true?"
"How do you feel now?"
Raghavan's eyes darted around, seeking an escape, but finding none. He locked eyes with me, and I held his gaze with that same devilish smile. The weight of his defeat hit him all at once, and he staggered, losing his balance. With a weak, desperate gasp, he collapsed to the ground, the cameras capturing his downfall from every angle.
The chaos intensified. Reporters swarmed around Raghavan, microphones shoved in his face, but he was too stunned to respond. Security rushed in, trying to maintain order as the scene descended into pandemonium.
As we made our way towards the exit, the chaotic scene behind us seemed almost surreal. Reporters, still buzzing with adrenaline, swarmed towards us, their cameras flashing and microphones thrust out like spears.
"Sir, sir, why did you come here? What's your connection to this event?" they shouted, their voices a cacophony of urgent curiosity.
I raised a hand to calm the frenzy. "One question at a time, guys," I said, my tone firm but polite. The reporters reluctantly fell into a slightly more orderly line, though their eagerness remained.
One of the reporters, managing to push through the crowd, asked, "Mr. Krishna, what are your thoughts on today's revelations?"
I took a moment, gathering my thoughts, and then responded with a carefully crafted veneer of sadness. "Honestly, I was initially impressed by Mr. Raghavan. I believed he was genuinely concerned about the farmers and their welfare. I was even considering making a deal with him." I paused, allowing the words to sink in. "But now, seeing his true colors, I'm relieved that I didn't follow through. It's clear now that his promises were nothing more than a façade."
As I spoke, I felt Aamukta's gaze on me, her eyes wide with a mix of admiration and disbelief. I could almost hear her silent question: How could I lie so smoothly? I glanced at her quickly, offering a reassuring smile that was meant to convey both confidence and a hint of mischief.
The reporters scribbled furiously, the gravity of my words evident in their focused expressions. I continued, "It's moments like these that remind us of the importance of integrity and transparency. I'm glad that the truth came out before any real harm could be done."
Aamukta, still processing the turn of events, looked at me with a small, appreciative smile. I could see she was touched by the way I had handled the situation.
Another reporter, clearly intent on finding every angle of the story, turned their attention to Bheeshma, who had been standing quietly off to the side. The reporter pushed through the throng, their voice cutting through the lingering chaos.
"Mr. Bheeshma," the reporter called, "did this incident have anything to do with you and your brother? Are you involved in this?"
The crowd hushed momentarily, waiting for Bheeshma's response. He maintained a calm and composed demeanor, his face a mask of serene confidence despite the storm around him. Bheeshma took a moment before answering, his voice steady and clear.
"This situation has nothing to do with me or Krishna," he began, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Mr. Raghavan invited us here as guests, and, as Krishna mentioned earlier, we had no prior knowledge of these issues."
His words, measured and precise, seemed to reassure the crowd. Bheeshma continued, "Our role was solely as guests at the event. We were unaware of the details that have been revealed today. This was a matter of public concern and has been addressed accordingly."
The reporter, realizing there was no scandalous angle to be found, nodded and moved on.
As we made our way towards the exit, another reporter managed to break through the crowd and approached Aamukta. Their voice was tinged with curiosity and a hint of mischief.
"Miss Aamukta," the reporter asked, "is it true that you and Mr. Krishna are dating?"
Aamukta, caught off guard, opened her mouth to respond. Before she could say anything, I gently placed my hand on her shoulder. My touch was meant to offer her both reassurance and a touch of confidence. I turned to face the reporter, a playful smile tugging at my lips.
"What do you think?" I replied, my tone light and teasing.
The reporter's eyes widened, and the cameras began to flash furiously as they snapped photos of us. The sudden barrage of light and sound filled the air with an electric energy. The reporters, sensing a new angle in the story, began to murmur excitedly among themselves, eager for more details.
Before any more questions could be asked, security personnel stepped in, guiding us towards our car with a firm but polite demeanor. The crowd of reporters was gently pushed back, their shouts and questions becoming muffled as we moved away.
Aamukta, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement, looked up at me as we walked. "You're quite the showman," she said with a teasing smile.
I chuckled, the tension of the day easing away. "Sometimes, a little mystery adds to the fun."
As we reached the car, the security team ensured that we were safely inside before stepping back. I glanced at Aamukta, my smile reflecting the warmth of our shared experience. "I think we handled that pretty well," I said.
She nodded, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of relief and affection. "Yes, we did. And I think they'll be talking about us for a while."
I started the car, and as we drove away, the city lights began to twinkle, casting a soft glow over the streets. The events of the day had been intense, but they had also brought us closer together. The playful exchange with the reporter had been a small but meaningful moment, adding a touch of lightness to an otherwise heavy day.
As we drove through the evening, I glanced over at Aamukta. "So Cutie pie, what did you think of today's rollercoaster?"
She laughed softly, leaning back in her seat. "It was certainly a day to remember. And I'm glad I had you by my side."
(A/N:Hey everyone, a while ago I asked for your opinions about a new fanfic I was thinking of writing, but I didn't receive much feedback. Please let me know if you think I should write it or not, and if yes so, could you suggest some movies?)
(A/N:If you want to support me, please use this UPI:-omgadekar29@oksbi "Om Gadekar")
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