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Sixty later, 2050

February 20^th, 8:00AM

The smell of spirit filled the corridor as doctors and nurses hurried out of the ICU. Pushing the cops away, the doctor came to me, and said “Sir, his condition is stable but not conscious, will take another 6-8 hours to regain consciousness.”

I heaved a sigh of relief “Thank you very much doctor, can I see him?”

“Definitely sir, but just you” as he signalled towards the crowd of politicians.

I entered the room, his body had shrunk, bandages all over his chest, and the ventilator over his mouth looked out of place on a person like him.

I remember the day he picked me up from a group of kids who were caught for picking pockets, I was 10 then, today I am 40 and the successor of the Common Man’s Party (CMP). He named me Shreyas. (Remember Shreyas Talpade of Iqbal, a 2007 movie), that’s how Shreyas is pronounced.

I held his hand the way he held mine 30 years back, and went through all what he had told me about his life. That’s when I realised how stupid I had been worrying about him; a fighter like him would never give up. Undergone an operation of 5 hours, and been in the ICU for 36 hours, after being shot twice in the chest. There would be a few who would be able to with stand that, considering the amount of pain he had gone through.

Lying on the hospital bed was Eklavya Raj, my father, the Prime Minister of India, and the president of the CMP. Yes he adopted me gave me a life I could have never thought of; today my saviour was lying there totally calm. A chill passed down my spine.

In to his second term as the prime minister, and with an 80% majority in the parliament, he had no opposition. But it is often said, that no matter how good you are, there will be people who will have problem with that. He wasn’t a follower of Gandhi, but he believed in what Gandhi said, with his own interpretation to that. Just like Gandhi had been shot for being good, I could see the similarities.

Technically he had defied all what Gandhi had done, but that remained a mystery to everyone. There were a few who were a part of those secrets. He lay still under all the equipment, his chest moving slowly as a reflex to breathing. I couldn’t help but smile, how he had taught me the lessons without being involved.

There was a knock at the door, and it was my dad’s P.A, Sarfaraz.

“Shreyas Sir, the press is asking for a statement, what do I say?”

“Ask them to wait, I’ll be down for the press meet and I just want a selected one’s, and you know who all, make sure it’s quiet I want no disturbance”

“Yes Sir, it will be taken care of”

I stayed there for a while; thinking of what he had taught me how unpredictable life could be. I read that incident in his diary and it showed how it affected his life. I had never seen him scared before but his entire reaction to that incident, showed the raw fear.