21st August 1947 — 9:30 PM
Parliament Canteen, New Delhi
The Parliament building had nearly emptied for the night.
The echo of clinking utensils mixed with the low hum of ceiling fans that struggled against the monsoon heat.
Only a handful of people were still there — the staff, a few clerks, and at one long corner table, three figures who had been on opposite sides of a storm earlier that day.
Dr. B.R. Ambedkar, his round glasses catching the dim light;
Saraswati Devi, quiet now, her hair loosely tied back;
and Prime Minister Anirban Sen, eating with his hands, like any ordinary man.
The mood was calm, almost awkward at first.
A long silence lingered until Saraswati spoke softly.
> "Dr. Ambedkar… I may have spoken too harshly. I know your fight comes from pain, not politics."
Ambedkar paused mid-bite, then nodded slowly.
> "Pain is a good teacher, Madam Minister.
And you are not wrong either. You just… grew up differently."
She smiled faintly, glancing at the simple dal and rice on her plate.
> "Different worlds, same hunger."
Ambedkar looked at his food too, eyes distant.
> "When I was a child, we couldn't even touch the same water pot others drank from.
My stomach used to burn so much that I'd chew tamarind leaves and pretend it was dinner.
That hunger never leaves you, even when you eat three meals a day."
Anirban looked up, his expression grave.
> "Then perhaps that's what our next war should be — not of ideology, but of nutrition."
He turned toward the clerk standing nearby.
> "Call the Agriculture Minister and the Minister of Fisheries, Animal Husbandry, and Dairying to my office.
Tell them it's urgent."
The clerk hesitated — it was past ten at night.
Anirban smiled wryly.
> "India doesn't sleep just because the clock says so. Not yet."
---
10:45 PM — Prime Minister's Office
The ministers arrived, half-asleep, half-worried.
Anirban spread out a rough sheet on the table — the same paper that had the Education Draft.
> "Add a new clause," he said firmly.
"Every school from primary to high must provide 2 compulsory nutritional meal per day one in Morning another in Lunch.
Not a charity meal — a State-backed meal, rich in protein and micronutrients. Milk, eggs, legumes, vegetables — whatever is available locally."
He turned to Saraswati.
> "You will integrate this into your Education Bill — call it Nutritional Rights of Students."
Then to Ambedkar,
> "Doctor, I want you to draft a framework for an autonomous National Nutrition and Food Security Commission — to work with Agriculture, Dairy, Fisheries, and Health. Statutory under PMO, not advisory."
Ambedkar's eyes lit up.
> "A statutory body will mean permanent oversight. That's bold, Prime Minister."
> "Bold?" Anirban smiled faintly. "It's survival."
Saraswati looked at the rain beginning to lash the windows.
> "If we can feed our children right, the caste, class, and creed barriers will collapse in a generation."
Ambedkar nodded quietly.
> "A full stomach doesn't hate."
---
Meanwhile
Outside, unnoticed by anyone, Jawaharlal Nehru, Maulana Azad, and their circle had already left the Parliament premises.
Their laughter echoed faintly in the dark corridors as they stepped into their waiting cars, unaware of what had just been set in motion inside.
---
11:50 PM
As the rain poured harder, Anirban looked at the signatures on the new clause — Saraswati's, Ambedkar's, minister of agriculture and minister of Fisheries and his own.
> "History will remember this night," he said softly.
"Not for arguments… but for the first meal that every Indian child will eat with dignity."
The night guard closed the doors of Parliament.
Inside, three cups of unfinished tea went cold on the table — witnesses to a quiet revolution.