One chilly evening in late April 1952, Rohan Varma, the Prime Minister of India, sat alone in his office, a stack of reports spread out before him. The sun had long since set, casting long shadows across the room, but Rohan was oblivious to the darkness creeping in. His mind was elsewhere, occupied by the rising demands for linguistic states a political issue that was growing more volatile by the day.
He leaned forward, rubbing his temples as he read through the latest reports from Andhra, Maharashtra, and Karnataka. The situation was escalating rapidly, and the gravity of it all weighed heavily on his shoulders.
The door to his office creaked open softly, and Neeraj Kumar, his closest advisor, slipped into the room. He paused for a moment, observing Rohan's troubled expression before speaking.
"Sir," Neeraj began cautiously, as he approached the desk, "I've been going through the reports. The protests in Andhra are becoming particularly intense, and Maharashtra and Karnataka aren't far behind. The situation is getting out of control."
Rohan looked up, his eyes reflecting a mix of exhaustion and resolve. "These demands aren't just noise, Neeraj. They're tied to people's identities, their languages, their very sense of belonging. But if we start redrawing the map without a clear strategy, we risk fracturing the country. We could be opening a Pandora's box."
Neeraj pulled up a chair and sat down across from Rohan. "I agree, sir. We need to tread carefully. What if we form a commission a group of respected figures who can study these demands thoroughly, talk to the people, and then offer a solution? It would show that we're taking their concerns seriously without rushing into decisions."
Rohan leaned back in his chair, considering the proposal. He could see the merit in it, but he also knew that such a commission would need to be beyond reproach. "A commission could work," he finally said, "but it has to be composed of individuals who are not only respected but also deeply understand the complexities of our nation. We need people who can approach this issue with both sensitivity and firmness. If we mishandle this, it could lead to more unrest, perhaps even violence."
Neeraj nodded, relieved that Rohan was open to the idea. "I'll start drafting a list of potential candidates, sir. We need a mix of legal minds, political veterans, and scholars who understand the cultural diversity of our country."
Rohan sat up straight, his mind already working through the possibilities. "Let's not waste any time, Neeraj. This has to be done carefully, but it also needs to be done quickly."
The following morning, Rohan convened a meeting with his key ministers. The small conference room was filled with the familiar faces of Home Minister V.K. Krishna Menon, Defence Minister Sardar Patel, and P.N. Haksar, the pragmatic strategist who had guided Rohan through many crises before.
As everyone settled in, Rohan got straight to the point. "Gentlemen, the demands for linguistic states are growing louder. We can't ignore them any longer, but we also can't afford to let the country break apart. I'm proposing that we form a States Reorganisation Commission to study the issue and recommend a way forward."
Sardar Patel, known for his straightforwardness, was the first to respond. "Prime minister, the idea is sound, but the commission's credibility will depend entirely on who we appoint. We need people who are universally respected individuals whose integrity is beyond question."
Menon, who had been quietly listening, leaned forward. "The commission's members must understand our nation's complexities and the passions driving these demands. We need people who won't shy away from making difficult decisions. But more importantly, they must be able to operate independently, without any political pressure."
Rohan took in their advice, nodding slowly. "I agree. We need a leader for the commission who commands universal respect. Justice Fazal Ali would be an excellent choice he's known for his integrity and balanced approach. We should also consider others who bring legal, political, and cultural expertise. K.M. Panikkar, a diplomat and scholar who understands India's diversity, is another name that comes to mind. And H.N. Kunzru, a politician with a reputation for fairness, could round out the team."
Haksar, who had been listening intently, finally spoke. "Panikkar and Kunzru are solid choices, Rohan. If they agree to join, the commission will have the authority and respect it needs to navigate this minefield."
Rohan exhaled slowly, feeling a sense of relief that his team was aligned with his thoughts. "Let's move quickly. I'll reach out to Justice Fazal Ali personally. Neeraj, get in touch with Panikkar and Kunzru. We need to make sure they understand the gravity of this task."
----
Over the next week, Rohan personally contacted Justice Fazal Ali, K.M. Panikkar, and H.N. Kunzru. The conversations were careful and deliberate, Rohan wanted to ensure they fully grasped the importance of the commission and the challenges ahead. It was hard because SRC was a hot potato that could affect your political and personal life which no one wanted to take but after some thoughtful consideration, all three men agreed to serve.
On the morning of the official announcement, the atmosphere in Parliament was tense. Rohan could feel the weight of the moment as he prepared to address the members.
As he stood before them, he spoke with calm authority. "Honorable Members of Parliament, I stand before you today to announce the formation of the States Reorganisation Commission. This commission will be tasked with examining the demands for reorganizing our states along linguistic lines. I have chosen individuals of the highest integrity Justice Fazal Ali, K.M. Panikkar, and H.N. Kunzru who will work independently to guide us through this complex issue. Yet beyond this I want the member all this parliament to understand that while we are willing to listen to the voices of stated by no means will the government bow down to unreasonable request or Special rights to states beyond thier condition"
The response was immediate. Some members applauded, recognizing the necessity of the move. Others, however, exchanged uneasy glances, their murmurs reflecting their concerns about the potential for further divisions within the country.
After the session, as Rohan made his way through the corridors of Parliament, Pandit Nehru, Member of Parliament who had been closely following the developments, caught up with him.
Yet seeing him like this still shocks Rohan, he thought that with him in this world many characters of orginal timeline will be gone but he was shocked to find Pandit Nehru as a freedom fighter and member of parliament.
"Prime Minister," Nehru began, his voice a mix of concern and admiration, "this is a bold step. You've chosen wisely, but the road ahead will be tough. These demands are deeply rooted in people's identities. Navigating this won't be easy."
Rohan met Nehru's gaze, understanding the weight of his words. "I know, Nehru. But we can't ignore these demands. If we don't address them now, they could tear the country apart. The commission's findings will be critical, but equally important will be how we manage the aftermath. We need to balance respect for linguistic identities with the need to keep the nation united."
Nehru placed a reassuring hand on Rohan's shoulder. "You've always had a way of bringing people together, Prime minister. Trust in that. The country needs strong, steady leadership now more than ever."
Days turned into weeks as the States Reorganisation Commission began its work. Justice Fazal Ali, K.M. Panikkar, and H.N. Kunzru traveled across the country, holding hearings, meeting with local leaders, and gathering evidence. The commission members faced opposition at every turn, but they also encountered support from those who believed that linguistic reorganization could lead to a more equitable and just India.
Rohan stayed informed about the commission's progress, though he was careful not to interfere. He knew that the commission's success depended on its independence, but he couldn't shake the awareness that the stakes were incredibly high. This wasn't just about drawing lines on a map it was about securing the future of India.
One afternoon, as Rohan sat in his office reviewing the latest updates, Neeraj Kumar and P.N. Haksar entered, ready for their regular briefing.
"We need to be transparent with the people," Rohan said, his tone firm as he addressed them. "The public must understand that the commission is conducting a thorough review, considering every aspect before making any decisions. We can't let rumors or misinformation get in the way."
Haksar nodded in agreement. "Regular press briefings would help. We can keep the public updated on the commission's progress and emphasize that every option is being explored with the nation's best interests at heart."
Neeraj, always the strategist, added, "We should also prepare for potential unrest. Some groups will be dissatisfied, no matter what the commission recommends. We'll need a strategy to handle any protests or resistance."
Rohan leaned back in his chair, absorbing their input. "You're both right. Let's start planning the briefings, and I'll work on ensuring we have the political support necessary to implement the commission's recommendations when the time comes."
As the month passed, the work of the SRC intensified. The commission members traveled to even the most remote regions, listening to the concerns of the people, understanding the deep-seated issues that drove their demands. Rohan received regular updates from Neeraj and Haksar, and each report confirmed what he had feared the issue was even more complex than they had initially thought.
One day, as Rohan sat in his office, he received a letter from a prominent leader in Andhra. It was a simple note, expressing gratitude for the creation of the commission and hope that their voices would finally be heard. Rohan read it slowly, reminded once again that this was not just a political issue real lives and futures hung in the balance.