Ashoka Stalin was being escorted through the pristine walls of a new hospital. Okay, it was new-ish if one was being picky. He would have rather liked if the walls were pristine. It would have just felt right. His last name was on the wing, and he didn’t like being associated with dull paint. In fact, he didn’t like associated with dullness in general.

Well, at least this wing was new, he reasoned. And his mother had raised and pumped a significant number of resources to make this whole place happen. And now, she was here to inaugurate the Kavita Stalin Wing of Incurable Diseases.

That was the official reason for her being here. The unofficial reason was to meet her old friend Doctor Joshi, the ageing scientist who was supposed to be an physicist but was suffering from a curious case of cancer caused by radiation poisoning.

For those who liked to gossip, she was coming here to discipline him after he had created a mess in Myanmar, and finally for those who had clearance she was coming here to inspect the safety of the locker of dangerous viral agents. But even that explanation felt flimsy to him.

Soon, one of the bulky men beside him directed him to a mid-sized conference room and he sat down in a surprisingly comfy office chair.

He knew this part, his mother was letting him stew. So he took off his shoes, Put his feet on the chair next to him, leaned back and closed his eyes.

He opened them back up when he felt someone open the door to the conference room. Virmani with his salt pepper sideburns looked in, took a moment to gather him in, smiled and opened the door. Kavita Stalin walked in behind him and paused.

Her nostrils flared and her eyes squinted.

Ashoka looked at her with an impish smile and did not straighten up.

She gave up and took out a tablet from her Hermes handbag and started playing a video.

“Care to explain this, Ashoka?” Kavita Stalin asked him in a neutral tone.

Ashoka, didn’t even look. He knew the video. On it, one of the princes of Myanmar was being threatened by the scion of an old Burmese warlord family. He was calling him a faggot, his wife a whore and Ashoka a slut.

Or was it the other way? He couldn’t exactly remember.

Before anybody could react Ashoka did. He downed his whisky, turned the glass upside down, and swung it upwards. The glass made contact with the hilt of the knife with a thud rather than the tinkle of glass breaking and the scion stabbed himself in the neck with his own knife.

Next came the screams and the video stopped.

The whole episode lasted seven seconds. And all throughout the video, neither he or Kavita had looked away from each other’s eyes.

“Well?” Kavita prompted him.

“The asset was in danger. I saved him. I should be getting recognition rather than this scrutiny.” Ashoka replied back mimicking her neutral tone that matched his mothers,

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“You were an 'attaché,’a diplomat, not a bodyguard.”

“No, I was there to create an unofficial channel between your bureaucrats and the royal family and I did that. And since that relationship was primarily based through the asset, I had to take action.”

Ashoka wanted to smile at his mother’s slight grimace but that was against the rules. Whenever they met, they ended up in a contest of facts. As Kavita often said, emotions are easy, you could see them on television. You can fake them in the parliament. Real victories came from facts that were undeniable.

So Ashoka decided to add one more to strengthen his position.

“Last I checked, my efforts had facilitated six shipments to the royal guard.”

Kavita wasn’t moved “I sent you there to create a backroom channel not backdoor the prince and frontdoor his wife. Now his father wants to kill you while his family has to laud you. The rebels want to kill you for killing a hero, and the Indian Ambassador wants to strangle you with his bare hands. His words, not mine.”

Kavita said all of that with a straight face without raising her pitch.

“And now you are unemployable. Who would want to put a man who can kill with his bare hands in a room full of soft bodied diplomats?” Kavita stopped talkling after she noticed Ashoka’s lips twitch upwards.

They both looked at each other in silence for a moment.

“You planned all of this.” Kavita stated not questioned.

This time Ashoka smiled and didn’t even try to hide it. What he had done was brilliant and it was time to monologue.

“Yes mother, I did.” Ashoka dramatically sighed and continued “I did my time over there. Made a lot of connections and climbed up the ladder. Just like you asked. Hell, I even seduced the two brats and whispered sweet nothings into their ears every night. And that opened the door for you and your initiatives, and you and I both know that they will continue without me there.”

Ashoka straightened up and looked animatedly towards Kavita but and in a deeper tone continued “Me killing that idiot was the perfect way for my story to end. This way the troublesome boy can go away, making the way for responsible adults. The high prince wanting to kill me is petty. He will get over that.”

“Did you prepare that speech?” Virmani suddenly asked from the side.

“Yes. Did it work?” Ashoka asked in a normal tone

“You need to add a little more bass to your voice and contrast them with silent spells. That kid will win you elections.”

Kavita gave a withering look to Virmani but it softened “Sunil, I keep telling you that he is electorally incapable. There is a reason I rejected him. Let me show you why?”

She turned her gaze back at Ashoka and the warmth was gone “So? According to your story you masterminded all those successes and got bored. Because you are better than Myanmar?”

“I wouldn’t say that but their bugs are pretty gross and don’t even get me started about the lizards.”

“So, the princess being pregnant has nothing to do with it?” Kavita inquired.

“Wait, what?” Ashoka asked.

“Drop the act, Ashoka. Is it yours?”

“Well, you see. The prince was a taker, not a doer.” Ashoka confessed.

Kavita exhaled slowly trying to contain her anger “Ten months. That's how long your diplomatic career lasted. If I can’t send you to a place like Myanmar, where can I send you?”

“In my defence, I was more of a spy than a diplomat.”

“You are supposed to be whatever I want you to be. Not a liability. We trained you to be better than this.”

Ashoka met her cold look with nonchalance.

“See, Sunil? Thankfully, I have another son you can groom into being, something.” Kavita stated to her partner.

Ashoka kept his face blank at his mother’s words.

Virmani looked at Ashoka and mouthed “Pregnant?”

Kavita watched him like a hawk until her smart watch buzzed.

Ashoka shut down his reactions. He wasn’t going to give her the pleasure. She wasn’t going to win this one.

Kavita shook her head with a huff and she got up from her chair “I will handle this. You, until further notified, will be stationed here as my representative.”

Ashoka blinked “Here? In a hospital. In the desert? Doing what?”

“You are in Jaisalmer, Ashoka. Or, atleast near it. You could have some awareness of where you are.” With that last barb Kavita nodded at Virmani “Sunil will provide you with documents.” And without wasting a moment she walked out the room.

That was his mother. They called her a lot of things, The Indian Ice Queen was popular, so was the Commie Bitch but his favourite was the Cold Hearted Kali moniker. It just fit so well.

A rough clearing of a throat brought Ashoka back from his remnunations.

“Nice move with the whisky glass.” Virmani muttered as he shut the door.

“How do you do it?” Ashoka asked.

Virmani shrugged “I love her.”

“How?”

Virmani chuckled “You both are so similar. She asked me the same thing once. Let me ask you, have you ever loved someone?”

Ashoka rolled his eyes and sighed “Love is commodification of pheromones. It is not real.”

Virmani chuckled “Well that is a new one. Last time it was invented by Hershey’s and taken over by Durex.”

Ashoka sighed “Virmani, we are in a hospital in the desert of Rajasthan. On a road that nobody but the military conveys travel. The last thing I want to argue about is love.”

“Well, then we can’t talk about much.” Virmani took out a badge and threw it over at Ashoka. It read.

Ashoka Stalin

Govt. Consultant

Dept of Infectious Diseases

The words, other than his name, were innocuous but the DRDO logo behind his name made his eyebrows shoot up.

“Umm… Virmani, what’s going on?”

Virmani chuckled and left the room with “Kid, why don’t you find out yourself.”