17 September 1947 – Delhi
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I. Dawn: The New Voice of the Republic
The clock on the walls of the All India Radio studio struck 6:00 a.m., and with a soft hiss of static, a new voice touched every corner of the waking nation.
> "This is All India Radio, Delhi.
The Interim Indian Government has announced the creation of a new committee to redraft the laws of India.
This committee will work under the name Bharatiya Nyaya Samhita — BNS — and will replace the Indian Penal Code of 1860.
The BNS shall take effect from the moment India declares itself the Republic of India."
The announcer paused, letting the words settle.
> "The Law Minister, Dr. B. R. Ambedkar, will lead the committee with assistance from Prime Minister Anirban Sen and several senior statesmen and jurists.
This marks the beginning of India's first independent legal framework — born from Indian soil, for Indian people."
The transmission faded into a low hum, followed by a few soft notes of the morning raga Bhairavi.
The sound spilled through Delhi's alleys and courtyards like incense.
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II. The Markets Awaken
By 6:30 a.m., the nation was talking.
From spice traders in Chandni Chowk to fishermen in Bombay, from tea stalls in Kolkata to kitchens in Madras, one phrase danced through every conversation — "Bharatiya Nyaya Samhita."
At the Khari Baoli spice bazaar, the air smelled of cardamom, pepper, and revolution.
> "New law code?" a young trader asked, turning down his radio's volume.
"What's wrong with the old one?"
An elderly lawyer beside him smiled, his beard yellowed from years of chewing betel.
> "The old one was written by our jailors, son. This one — by our own judges."
Another merchant laughed.
> "Let's hope this new Samhita also punishes tax officials who demand tea money."
Nearby, a group of schoolteachers buying ink murmured with quiet pride.
> "Ambedkar and Saraswati — what a pair. One writes law for justice, the other ignites the will to follow it."
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In Calcutta's fish market, women listened to the news while haggling.
> "They say this BNS will start when India becomes Republic," one woman said, balancing a basket of hilsa on her hip.
"So that means real freedom will come that day."
> "Aye," another said, "and maybe then our sons won't be arrested for shouting slogans."
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In Bombay's Irani cafés, students and dockworkers debated fiercely over chai.
> "You know, in Britain they had the Magna Carta.
Now we'll have something of our own," said one youth.
> "Magna what?" asked another.
> "Forget that — ours will be written in the language of truth, not Latin," said a third, and the room erupted in laughter.
---
By mid-morning, Bharatiya Nyaya Samhita had become not just a phrase — but a feeling.
The air smelled of ink, ambition, and wet earth.
India was waking up as a civilization, not just a country.
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III. York Road Residence – 8:00 a.m.
At her Delhi residence, Saraswati Sinha — Nizam of Hyderabad, MP, and the Lioness of Parliament — sat by the window overlooking the sleepy lanes of York Road.
The faint light of dawn filtered through lace curtains.
On the table beside her rested a cup of tea, a few files, and a small transistor radio.
Her assistant, Rohini Deshmukh, entered, balancing a stack of newspapers fresh from Connaught Place.
The headlines were nearly identical across editions:
> "BNS COMMITTEE FORMED — AMBEDKAR TO LEAD, SEN TO SUPERVISE."
"INDIA TO DRAFT ITS OWN LAWS — NEW ERA BEGINS."
Rohini placed them before Saraswati and said softly, "Everyone's talking about it, Didi. Even the milkman asked me if he'd need a new license under the new laws."
Saraswati smiled faintly, her eyes still on the horizon.
> "Rohini," she asked, "what do you think our Prime Minister is doing this morning?"
Rohini blinked. "Probably dealing with the BNS files. Or the Parliament sessions. Maybe—sleeping?"
Saraswati shook her head gently, eyes narrowing with a hint of admiration.
> "No. If I'm not wrong," she said, "he's not someone to waste a day he is probably ten moves ahead of everyone — thinking about our veins."
Rohini tilted her head. "Veins?"
> "Yes. The law is the brain, Rohini," Saraswati said, her voice soft but certain.
"But what carries life through it — that's the economy. The banks, the roads, the railways.
Without those, even the best law will be a corpse ."
Rohini smiled. "You think he's planning that right now?"
Saraswati's eyes glinted.
> "No. He's already decided. He's just waiting for the rest of us to catch up."
---
IV. South Block – 10:00 a.m.
The ornate clock in the Prime Minister's chamber struck ten.
A knock came, and the aide-de-camp announced, "Sir, Minister John Mathai has arrived."
> "Send him in," Anirban Sen said quietly.
The heavy wooden doors opened, and Dr. John Mathai stepped in — crisp, composed, carrying the calm air of an academic forced into politics.
Anirban rose, extending his hand. "Good morning, sir. Please, have a seat."
> "Good morning, Prime Minister," Mathai replied, settling into the leather chair opposite him.
For a few moments, silence.
The ceiling fan whirred softly; the faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air.
Anirban leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk.
> "Sir," he began, "there is a huge task before your ministry. Can you handle it?"
Mathai smiled wryly.
> "I think I know what you're referring to. But honestly, I'm not the perfect man for this. I'm confident with finance, yes — or law, perhaps. But not transport or the machinery of logistics."
Anirban's lips curved faintly.
> "Then you Will be glad . Because I'm about to move you elsewhere."
Mathai looked up, intrigued.
> "I'm appointing you," Anirban continued, "as the first Chairman of the State Bank of India."
For a moment, silence. The faint hum of the air echoed against marble.
Mathai adjusted his spectacles.
> "SBI? But— the Act's passed, yes, but it has no body yet. It's a shell."
Anirban smiled.
> "That's exactly why I need you. The foundation's there, but someone must give it a soul.
I want it to grow into India's premier banking institution — an institution that every citizen can trust, and one that can rival the financial powers of the West.
Until it matures, the bank and its oversight will remain under my direct supervision."
Mathai leaned back, thoughtful, then rose slowly.
There was no hesitation in his voice when he replied.
> "Alright, Anirban. I'll do it.
I'll make SBI a bank in which every Indian can place their faith — and one that the Western world will have to reckon with."
Anirban nodded approvingly.
> "Then we're agreed. You have your mandate."
Mathai smiled faintly, adjusted his coat, and bowed his head respectfully before leaving.
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V. The Prime Minister Alone
When the door closed, Anirban remained seated, staring at the sunlight falling across his desk.
Outside, Delhi stirred — carts creaking, trains in the distance whistling through the haze.
He rose slowly, walked to the window, and watched a goods train crawl across the Yamuna bridge.
The rails… the veins of the Republic, he thought. The British built them to bleed us. We must rebuild them to feed us.
He turned, his steps measured, and opened a new file marked "Transport Reforms (Immediate)."
The pen in his hand felt heavier than usual.
> "Executive Directive," he began writing.
"All existing railway zones and private lines to be merged under a unified national entity — Bharat Railways, hereafter known as Indian Railways.
Management to be transferred to central authority effective immediately."
He paused, thinking of the endless dust roads stretching between cities — veins waiting for arteries.
He flipped to another blank page.
> "Executive Directive: Formation of National Highways Authority of India (NHAI) for integrated planning and construction of arterial roadways connecting Delhi to all state capitals within five years."
He signed both with a steady hand.
Then he sealed the papers with the government crest — the lion capital of Ashoka.
The thud of the seal echoed through the room like a heartbeat.
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VI. The First Tremors
By 2:00 p.m., clerks and officers in ministries across Delhi were whispering.
Circulars flew from one table to another faster than telegrams.
> "The Transport Ministry's been moved to the Prime Minister's Office," someone murmured in North Block.
"He's nationalized the railways!" another whispered.
"And highways too — there's a new body forming."
Typewriters clattered furiously. Stenographers scribbled notes.
It felt like lightning had struck the bureaucracy.
---
VII. 6:00 p.m. — The Evening Broadcast
As the day began to dim, the familiar static of All India Radio returned.
Families gathered once again around radios glowing faintly in the dusk.
> "This is All India Radio, Delhi.
The Prime Minister's Office has announced the following:
One — Dr. John Mathai, former Minister of Transport, has been appointed Chairman of the State Bank of India.
Two — the Ministry of Transport will now function under the Prime Minister's Office.
Three — the government has passed two new executive acts: the National Highways Authority of India Act and the Indian Railways Act, nationalizing all railway lines under a unified command."
The announcer's tone grew solemn.
> "The Prime Minister's communiqué states, quote:
'As the Bharatiya Nyaya Samhita will be the conscience of the Republic, so too must its roads, rails, and banks become its veins — carrying the lifeblood of unity, movement, and trust across every corner of India.'"
The radio crackled, then faded into silence.
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VIII. The People's Reaction
In railway colonies across India, clerks and engineers cheered.
At the Delhi Junction quarters, a family sat cross-legged around a small radio.
> "Papa!" the young son exclaimed. "We'll all be under one railway now!"
His father, an old ticket clerk, wiped his eyes.
> "I've worked under five flags and ten masters," he whispered. "But this time, it feels like home."
In Nagpur, railway mechanics lit lamps in the depot.
In Madras, bus drivers broke into applause.
In Kolkata, road workers grinned, "At last, someone remembers the roads."
The nation was talking again — not of politics, but purpose.
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IX. York Road Residence of Saraswati
At the same moment, in the soft golden glow of the evening, Saraswati and Rohini sat by the balcony of her residence.
The garden below was filled with the smell of jasmine and the distant rhythm of tram bells.
Rohini held the newspaper freshly delivered from Connaught Place.
She read aloud, her voice trembling with excitement.
> "John Mathai appointed Chairman of SBI.
Transport Ministry absorbed by PMO.
NHAI and Bharat Railways established — historic centralization of India's infrastructure."
She looked up, eyes wide. "He's doing it, Didi! He's actually doing it — rebuilding everything."
Saraswati's lips curved into a soft smile. She didn't speak immediately, her gaze lost in the darkening skyline where the Parliament dome glowed like a red ember.
> "That's Anirban for you," she said finally, her tone half admiring, half amused.
Rohini turned to her. "What do you mean?"
Saraswati leaned back, her voice low but certain.
> "When others celebrate one victory, he's already ten moves ahead.
Everyone else is still debating laws; he's building the veins that will carry their meaning."
Rohini smiled faintly. "Veins… like roads and rails?"
> "Yes and No,Veins like trust," Saraswati replied softly.
"The kind that flows through people, through trade, through movement.
You see, Rohini — a nation doesn't survive on speeches. It survives on connection."
For a long moment, neither spoke.
The faint whistle of a distant train cut through the evening silence — long, mournful, beautiful.
Saraswati closed her eyes and whispered,
> "And he's ensuring that connection never stops."
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X. The Night Falls by 18 September,1947
By 8:00 p.m., the city of Delhi was alive with the hum of conversation. How Anirban is meeting with C-PWD engineers.
Tea stalls overflowed with people reading aloud from newspapers, how Anirban himself recruiting Engineers for NHAI.
Bank clerks in Bombay celebrated with cups of cutting chai.About SBI New Chairman first Speech on AIR.
Truck drivers in Punjab traced invisible maps of future highways on dusty tables.
And railway workers across the subcontinent felt, perhaps for the first time, that they were part of something vast — something theirs.
Above them, the Tricolour swayed gently in the night breeze.
And somewhere in South Block, under the faint glow of a single lamp, Anirban Sen stood by his window, watching the city lights flicker like stars.
He whispered to himself,
> "Laws are thought. Roads are will. Banks are trust.
Let's give this country a pulse that will never stop."