A Tea Break with History: My Encounter with Narendra Damodardas Modi
The early morning fog in Varanasi doesn't just obscure the view; it silences the world. Standing near Assi Ghat, with the Ganga flowing quietly beside me, I felt a strange sense of solitude despite the city waking up around me. I was at an old, weathered tea stall, the kind that has stood there longer than the buildings around it. I was scrolling through my phone, reading headlines about global summits and stock markets, feeling incredibly small in the grand scheme of things. Then, the atmosphere shifted. It wasn't the noise of a siren or the rush of a crowd. It was a sudden, organized stillness. Three black SUVs pulled up a hundred meters away. Men in sharp suits—the Special Protection Group—fanned out with practiced precision. I expected them to clear the area. Instead, a man stepped out of the center vehicle, waved them back slightly, and began walking toward the river. He wore a simple kurta and a shawl wrapped against the chill. He walked with a purpose that felt familiar,...