"Politics isn't merely about power; it's about wielding influence with finesse, orchestrating the dance of nations on the world stage."
•••
Welcome to a tale that echoes through the luxurious enclaves of the capital to its very downtrodden streets.
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Khatri Estate, New Delhi
It was nighttime.
The dining area of the opulent Khatri household was alive with the clangs of spoons and knives against fine china.
Under the soft glow of the ornate chandelier, the entire family was seated for dinner, the light casting long shadows across the table.
Under Butler Alok's commands, servers moved silently, refilling glasses and offering dishes with practiced grace, their presence an unobtrusive dance of service.
"I apologize for being late. I was detained by some last-minute work in Bangalore," Trayaksh announced, as he deftly picked up a spoonful of fragrant biryani and brought it to his mouth.
"It's quite alright, Dev. I understand these things," Vishwaraj replied, his voice gentle, as he sipped on his milk. His doctor had forbidden him from indulging in the rich, spicy food that adorned the table.
But since they all needed to discuss important matters with Trayaksh, he decided to join them in the dining area, content with his simple fare.
"Dev," Ekta interjected, setting aside her crystal glass of water and patting her mouth with a linen napkin.
"Hmm?" Trayaksh hummed in acknowledgment, his attention still partly on the meal before him.
"I have found a suitable match for you."
The spoon in Trayaksh's hand paused mid-air, a grain of rice perilously dangling from it, before he resumed his eating, "Who might that be?"
"Ananya," Ekta revealed, her voice laced with a mix of pride and expectation.
"Which Ananya are we referring to?" Trayaksh inquired, his tone casual, almost disinterested.
Saket cringed at his older brother's question, feeling a sense of doom creeping in.
Across the table, Vishwaraj met Satveer's eyes with a knowing look, both understanding the subtle power play unfolding before them.
"Dev," Ekta's voice hardened, a warning edge in her tone.
"Mm, Dadi, I am all ears," Trayaksh assured her, though his casual demeanor suggested otherwise.
Barkha pressed her lips together, a silent gesture of disapproval, while Jhilmil met Ram's resigned gaze and closed her eyes, a silent prayer escaping her lips.
