Huge billboards and placards were placed, invitations sent out to India’s elite. Then finally, when the country was warmed up enough, they announced the wedding. He made Modi speak about them in a healthy way, promoted starting sex ed in schools and normalising talking about it – of course, as long as it was after marriage and within their acceptable boundaries of religion and caste. He portrayed all the stories that had homosexual undertones and trans identities as positive and accurate. He knew there would be revolts – after all, him and his party, including the RSS lackeys were always anti-LGBT, but he pulled out the Hindu card again. That interview with Ayushmann Khurrana seemed to have worked very well, more so than being accused of hypocrisy by the opposition. On that night, as the Rashtrapati Bhavan was empty, as the fan whirred a slow rasp and as Arnab threatened and barked at his targets for the night, amidst scattered paper sheets and rustling Maggi packets, Modi and Amit shook hands, their respective rings now glittering on each others hands.Īfter an intense period of promotions and intial damage control, the wedding was finally set in place.Īmit had planned on announcing the wedding after a rally of promotions and support for the LGBT community. He wouldn’t dare fall into that hole, not this soon.
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No more nagging from the opposition, no more fights.Īll the fake dating AUs Amit had heard of suddenly made sense now, but he vowed to himself that he wouldn’t think of this turning into something real. No more pangs of jealousy when Narendra hugged Rahul. Even if the other didn’t actually love them, they could freely express their love – it would be brushed off as a performance, but they could do it. They wouldn’t have to hide their feelings. He’d get to marry Amit Shah, the love of both his personal and his political lives, in splendor and grandeur, in public. It was a plan, a rather good one, practically speaking – but personally, Modi loved it.
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It wasn’t the same situation, though, they’d be in a temple, on a plane to the US or even one time, in a classic bollywood dance setting – althoguh that last part might have been because he snorted a full four packets of Maggi Masala.Īmit had proposed.
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It was the thoughtful prime minister face.
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Narendra’s eyes widened, and Amit collected every pro he had to shoot and justify his ‘idea’ or brush it off in panic. Who wouldn’t like being married, even if it was fake (he hoped it wouldn’t be), to their long term crush? Personally, it was definitely a pro for him. “Well, Narendra, I do have an idea, but uh-”Īmit took a deep breath.
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The only problem was convincing the Prime Minister. They wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, after all, 377 was lifted and it was legal. The opposition would have fun with this one. He was sure it’d garner more than enough public interest but still cause enough problems to make it fun. Almost made him swipe his thumb over Narendra’s lips and clean it, but he refrained.Īmit did have an idea. Modi had already taken what was left of the last pack, leaving Amit with nothing but the sight of some of the powder on his thick moustache – not that he was complaining, it was rather a nice sight, in his opinion.
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The packets of maggi masala were finished by this time. They call you Chanakya – and you haven’t come up with a single idea?” Narendra’s voice boomed across the huge office as Amit tapped his trademark Patanjali pencil on the desk. The fan whirred at its own pace, ruffling the sheets on occasion. Ideas scrawled on some, others white except for a small ‘om’ on the top of the paper. Papers littered the room, scattered across the tables and scrumpled up on the vast marble of Rashtrapati Bhavan. Arnab’s voice blasted on the TV’s speakers – which were set to the lowest volume. They were in the central office, having stayed long after everyone was gone. Taglist: was a dark night, when he proposed it. A/N: Please dont send me to jail this is a joke and doesnt actually mean or accuse actual irl people and does not contain references to actual people it is a work of fiction i wrote high on maggi masala thanks bye