Akbar and Birbal

 Once upon a time in the great nation of India, a city named Delhi was ruled by the minister Akbar. He was the son of the great Humayun, who previously ruled the city and was executed by a bunch of teenagers while he was on a drunken stroll to his not-so-new interest, which was going to brothels. His very own prestigious establishments. The slashing was celebrated among the new generation, but the older one took it to the streets to detain the teenagers after their favourite leader's mishap. The protests were short-lived, and justice, as usual, was not served, as the people in their 40s walked home defeated with heads bowed, and allegedly a new minister, who was none other than his son.

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But this time Akbar was fearful of what might happen to him; he had seen his father’s broken spine. The blood oozing out of his back. He had known his forefathers and their carelessness towards seeking out sagacity. So he hired a right-hand man named Birbal. He was an educated individual, which was rather odd amongst the House of Parliament. The people viewed him as a fish out of water. But he did good work; he was the most celebrated person because, for the first time in a while, the new generation was not throwing hands, all because Birbal was quite literally saving Akbar from all the foolishness he used to condemn.

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But once, during the press conference, Akbar said something controversial that had taken over the internet like wildfire. The once-beloved minister had finally shown his true colors because his “brain” had been enjoying his vacation in the establishments.

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Akbar, who was once compared to Mr. Zohran Mamdani, was getting a similar treatment after the ’ situation ’ as his father.

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“Juzar gaye-ay-ay, Akbar kaka”

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It was the first thing Birbal heard as he entered the minister’s house, which was crowded with security. He turned his head around the room and saw Akbar sitting under his bed with a blanket over his head, singing this to himself. Birbal tried to hold back his laughter at this sight and finally convinced Akbar to tell his side of the story to clear up the controversy.

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“So, the interviewer asked me about some agenda I raised during our first campaign, which was yet to be completed, as you know. So I was trying to dodge the question and talk from the script that you provided to the media and me. But this goddamn independent media- always trying to diminish me because of my stupid father. They really were eating my ear off, so I got a little… aggressive.”

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Birbal was annoyed. “A little, sir?” he said sarcastically. “You said on the camera- sorry, not said, but screamed that you will buy and sell their company if they keep asking you that. You had one job, sir- not to make a scene. You know that, right? You are always on probation,” he sighed and sat on the sofa.

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Then something clicked; he knew his PR degree was gonna get him rich one day, and this idea of his was probably his million-dollar idea. He researched his opponents and prospects, and just to cover up this media mess, he worked his highest contacts and pulled a stunt that made everyone forget Akbar ever said those things. He worked his way through and influenced the central government to introduce a fake bill, a trans bill that was, so that the new generation will curse them out rather than Akbar. Later, Akbar will be presented as someone who will talk about taking it back, and he will again be everybody’s favourite.

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9 months later-

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The bill was officially passed, and Akbar had climbed on barricades during the protests to “protect” people’s rights, and once again, Akbar was everybody’s favourite, and Birbal was up for his next vacation with deep pockets that he would stick on the keepers of establishments.