A New India

Rohan sat in his room his fingers wrapped tightly around a pen, but he wasn't writing.

The documents before him a set of economic reforms, infrastructure plans, trade agreements but for some reason his mind was not feeling at ease.

As if something was about to end.

His mind suddenly started doing recaps.

He had fought, bled, and sacrificed for this dream India, strong and unyielding, standing as a beacon of power in the world.

He was close, just a few decades, a few more battles of will and diplomacy, and it would all fall into place.

Then, the world went dark.

It wasn't sleep.

It wasn't unconsciousness.

It was something else entirely.

One moment, he was in his room

The next, he was in a space that defied all logic.

A vast expanse of light stretched infinitely in all directions, neither warm nor cold, neither welcoming nor hostile.

In the middle of this surreal emptiness stood a lone table with a chair behind it.

Seated there was a man elegant, refined, and smiling as though he had been waiting for this moment.

"Ah, finally awake," the man mused.

Rohan instinctively took a step back, his heart pounding. "Who are you?"

The man leaned forward, resting his chin on interlocked fingers. "I am whatever you want me to be. I can be God, a demon, a villain, or a writer. But lately, I've preferred to go by the name… Clautic."

Rohan's eyes narrowed.

The name meant nothing to him, but the weight behind the man's presence was undeniable.

He wasn't just another political adversary or a foreign diplomat.

He was something else.

Rohan clenched his fists, his mind racing. "Why am I here?"

Clautic exhaled, his smile never fading. "Because I once took a soul from India and placed it into an alternate version of your country. I wanted to see what would happen to watch how a single man's will could shape an entire world."

Rohan's body stiffened. "So… you were the reason I was transmigrated?"

Clautic nodded. "Yes."

A range of emotions crashed over Rohan anger, disbelief, sorrow.

He had spent years fighting battles that were never meant to be his, bleeding for a history that was never supposed to exist.

He had accepted this world as his own, built it with his hands, and now…

He swallowed hard. "Then why am I here now? Have I… died?"

Clautic shook his head. "No, you haven't died. But you cannot stay there anymore."

Rohan's breath hitched. "Why?"

Clautic's expression darkened, his voice softer. "The world you were placed in has grown beyond my control. There are forces now moving beyond my reach, entities far stronger than I had accounted for. The balance I carefully maintained is unraveling. I can no longer sustain your presence there. You've altered history too much, and the weight of those changes threatens to collapse everything."

Rohan stood there, his body rigid.

He wanted to shout, to scream, to demand that it wasn't fair.

But the words wouldn't come.

"This is how it ends," he whispered. His voice was hollow. "No conclusion. No final victory. No last stand. Just an unfinished story. An ambition left to wither."

Clautic sighed. "I wish I could tell you otherwise."

Rohan clenched his jaw, his throat tightening. "I was so close," he murmured, his voice trembling.

"After everything I did… after everything I sacrificed… you're telling me it was for nothing?"

Clautic shook his head. "Not for nothing. Just not for you to finish."

Rohan exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the table to steady himself. "And what happens to India? Without me?"

Clautic gave a sad smile. "Maybe it will continue on the path you set. Maybe it won't. The world moves as it will, Rohan. You did your part, but the destination is no longer yours to control."

Rohan closed his eyes, his thoughts thinking the faces of those he was leaving behind.

His allies, his rivals, the people who had put their faith in him.

His voice was barely a whisper. "Without me, the wolves will come again. The jackals, the thieves, the parasites. They'll undo everything."

Clautic watched him in silence.

Rohan laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "What is a man, if not the sum of his legacy?"

Clautic leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps your legacy was never meant to be an ending, but merely a beginning."

Rohan clenched his fists. "Then what happens to me?"

Clautic's smile returned, but this time, it was laced with something else pity, maybe even regret. "To compensate you, I will send you to a new world. A world untouched by any power. A world where you can fight again… or fall. It will be up to you."

Rohan stared at him. "Another world."

"Yes."

A humorless chuckle escaped Rohan's lips. "And what if I refuse?"

Clautic's smile faded. "Then you will simply cease to exist."

Rohan looked down at his hands..hands that had once shaped history, hands that had built an empire from the ashes of colonialism and poverty.

And now, they would grasp at nothing.

Slowly, he raised his gaze to Clautic, his expression unreadable. "You took everything from me."

Clautic exhaled. "I gave you everything, too."

Rohan stared at him for a long time.

Then, finally, he straightened his back, his voice steady.

"This story… the story of my India… The story of A New India has ended too soon," he said softly. "But just because it has ended… doesn't mean it was meaningless."

A pause.

"I will fight again."

Clautic smiled, his eyes glimmering with something unreadable. "That's what I expected from you."

Light engulfed Rohan, his body dissolving into nothingness.

When the light faded, Clautic was alone again.

The chair across from him was empty. The table was silent.

For a long time, he remained still, his fingers lightly tapping against the surface.

He exhaled. "So many ambitions… so many dreams left unfulfilled."

His gaze fell on the empty chair, as if imagining the presence that had once occupied it.

Quietly, almost to himself, he murmured,

"Even I couldn't complete the story."