Power does not always enter a room with the noise of boots. Sometimes it slips in with a soft paw, pads across polished floors, and rests its chin upon the knee of a man who carries a nation in his briefcase. In the fading gold of a Delhi evening, at 7, Race Course Road, the cicadas begin their patient recital before the news anchors do. The bougainvillea lean against their trellises like old politicians who have seen too many seasons. The guards at the gate remain statues of discipline, their eyes scanning the horizon for threats the size of men. But inside, in a room where curtains breathe with the breeze and a lamp casts an amber halo on paper, the Prime Minister sits with a pen between his fingers and a dog at his feet…
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 exquisitely written—quiet, evocative, and deeply atmospheric. The opening alone draws you in with such grace, showing how true power can exist in stillness rather than spectacle.
Your imagery is striking—the Delhi evening, the breathing curtains, the gentle presence of the dog—all working together to reveal a softer, more human side of leadership. What makes this especially compelling is the shift in focus from public achievement to private, almost invisible companionship.
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Dear Verma’ji, thank you for reading this piece with such attentiveness and warmth. It means a great deal to me that the stillness of that evening, and the quiet companionship within it, found resonance with you.
I have always believed that power, in its truest form, reveals itself not in the noise it commands, but in the silences it can inhabit with honesty. In Atal Bihari Vajpayee, I found a rare confluence of authority and introspection, and through the presence of a dog, a way to explore that unguarded space where a statesman simply becomes human.
Your observation about the shift from public achievement to private companionship is especially meaningful. Those are the moments that history often overlooks, yet they quietly shape the person who stands before the world. If the story was able to hold that delicate balance, it is deeply encouraging to know it reached you in that spirit.
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🙏👍
Aum Shanti
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Thank you. May the Peace of the universe also abide in you.
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Thanks 🙌🏻
Aum Shanti
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Dear Geeta, thank you so much for having this conversation with me and sharing my thoughts (interview with you) on your blog. Now my stories will reach a larger audience.
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