In the middle of the night, the Prime Minister of India was not asleep. The lamps in the long corridors of Teen Murti Bhavan burned with a patient yellow glow, illuminating polished floors that had known both empire and independence. The portraits on the walls, stern ancestors of administration, fading generals, forgotten viceroys, watched with oil-painted detachment as he walked past them in soft slippers, his hands clasped behind his back, his head slightly bowed as if in conversation with a thought too delicate to interrupt. He had always been a walker. In prison yards. In gardens. Along the parapets of history itself. But tonight, he was not alone…
To read the full story and 19 other short stories in this series click on the links below:
This story is part of the book Unknown Companions, my second printed collection of short stories, bringing together twenty quiet encounters between well-known Indians and the animals who moved through their lives.
These stories do not revisit achievement. They turn toward the smaller presences history rarely records: a dog waiting at a doorway, a bird crossing a garden, a stray who appears at an unexpected hour. In such moments, reputation falls silent and a different kind of companionship becomes visible.
Rooted in real lives and shaped by the quiet crossings between humans and animals, this collection gathers the unnoticed companions who stood briefly beside lives that history remembers for other reasons.
If you have found something here that stayed with you, some of my other books (collection of short stories, novels, and more) are now available in print and digital editions. They gather many unique journeys, quieter questions, and stories that continue beyond this page.
Weekend Stories by Trishikh 
This is a beautifully evocative and atmospheric opening. The imagery of Teen Murti Bhavan at night, with its quiet corridors and watchful portraits, creates a sense of history breathing softly in the background.
I especially admire how you shift the focus from grand achievements to intimate, almost unnoticed moments—those quiet intersections between human lives and the presence of animals.
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Dear Verma’ji, thank you so much for reading the first paragraph of my story with such attentiveness. Your words carry the same quiet sensitivity that the piece itself attempts to hold.
What you noticed is very close to what I was trying to explore, those unrecorded, almost invisible moments where history loosens its collar and becomes human again. The presence of the cub, in that stillness, is not just incidental but gently disruptive, almost like a question placed beside power.
I am especially glad the atmosphere spoke to you through you have not read the entire story. Sometimes, if the silence at the beginning feels alive, the rest finds its own way.
With kind regards,
Trishikh
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🙏👍
Aum Shanti
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Thank you.
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The premise of a prime minister walking at night alongside a cub sounds like a dream perfect story of the soul.
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This is a fictional version of a true story. The first Prime Minister of India, Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, did have a tiger cub at the Prime Minister’s residence. This story is based on that fact.
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Wow! I always learn new things from you! You have such a rich history
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My pleasure to have been able to share this little piece of history.
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I always learn a new thing from you friend
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