The morning was glorious like no other, for the August Sun was shining on Nehru-ji as it had never done before.

Wearing his trademark jacket, not a crease or a spot, and a lusty rose in the buttonhole, Nehru-ji looked as fresh as the morning dew, and this despite the midnight.

For, at the stroke of midnight, Nehru-ji had stepped on the podium, and had eloquently orated his speech, Tryst with Destiny.

Just like his intellectual descendant, Shashi-ji, Nehru-ji had spoken in English about India because his audience, like Shashi-ji's, was elsewhere.

As Nehru-ji basked in the morning Sun, he was envisioning - a man like Nehru-ji does not think, he envisions - the audience for the day, a day dedicated to his achievements since the speech.

Nehru-ji took out his Air Pods and instructed Siri in his clipped accent to play a song.

The title song from the movie Golmaal soon vibrated into his ears - no, not the one by Kishore Kumar for that was still far into the future, but the more contemporary one by Vishal Dadlani.

Unlike the blockheaded protagonists of the movie, Nehru-ji did not dance to the song.

Later, Nehru-ji was seated on a massive throne like that king of ancient India who he admired, Great the Akbar, and was flanked on both sides by celebrities he had personally known.

A Congress worker tied a pigeon to a rocket and launched it, signaling the start of celebrations.