A New India
Chapter 263 - 263: Head of AIFF facing Rohan's Wrath

While Ministry of Sports was busy, Rohan too also got busy with something that dragged Indian Football even in 2024.

AIFF (All India Football Federation)

The room felt cold as the Head of the All India Football Federation (AIFF), Dr. Pankaj Gupta, was led into the Prime Minister's office.

Gupta's grip on his files was tight, his face pale.

He had been summoned by Rohan after damning reports of corruption, nepotism, and gross mismanagement within the AIFF had reached the Prime Minister's desk.

The air was heavy with anticipation, and Gupta could feel his heart racing as he stepped in.

Rohan sat behind his desk, a tense expression on his face.

The usual warmth in his demeanor was replaced by an icy, calculating anger.

Gupta barely managed to take a seat before Rohan's voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"So, Dr. Gupta," Rohan began, his tone calm but deadly, "you're the man responsible for football in this country? You're the man who's turned AIFF into a circus, a bloody circus!"

Gupta opened his mouth to respond, but Rohan raised his hand sharply.

"Chup! Not a word from you right now," Rohan thundered, slamming his fist on the desk. (Translation: "Quiet!")

The force rattled the papers neatly arranged on the surface. "Do you think I called you here to listen to your excuses? I've read every single page of these reports. Har ek page! And do you know what they tell me? That the AIFF is nothing but a den of incompetence, corruption, and nepotism." (Translation: "Every single page!")

Gupta's lips quivered as he stammered, "Sir, I—"

"Sir, my foot!" Rohan yelled, standing abruptly from his chair.

His voice rose in anger, filled with the frustration of years of mismanagement and thought of future.

"Jab FIFA World Cup mein team bhejne ka mauka mila, tum logon ne kya kiya? Barefoot players ka excuse diya, logistics ka excuse diya, aur India ki izzat mitti mein mila di!" (Translation: "When we had the chance to send a team to the FIFA World Cup, what did you do? You gave excuses about barefoot players, about logistics, and you dragged India's honor through the mud!")

"Do you even realize the humiliation we faced because of people like you? Tum jaise logon ki wajah se hi is desh mein talent barbaad hota hai!" (Translation: "It's because of people like you that talent is wasted in this country!")

Gupta tried to explain, sweat dripping down his temple. "Prime Minister, the circumstances were—"

"Circumstances my foot!" Rohan barked, leaning forward, his finger pointed at Gupta's face. "You had years, saalon ka time tha tumhare paas! And what do we have to show for it? A broken league system, no grassroots programs, no scouting, no coaching infrastructure. Funds meant for the sport vanish into thin air! Tum log bas apni jeb bharte ho!" (Translation: "You had years! And what do you do? You just fill your pockets!")

"Sir, I assure you, we—"

"Assure?!" Rohan's voice thundered, shaking the room. "Tumhari assurance ki koi zarurat nahi hai! I've seen the records. Har ek paisa ka hisaab dekha hai maine. And you think I'm going to sit here and let you ruin Indian football further? You're lucky I don't have you arrested right now!" (Translation: "Your assurances mean nothing! I've seen the records. I've checked every single rupee accounted for.")

Gupta's face turned ghostly pale.

He tried to gather his composure, his voice trembling. "Prime Minister, there are systemic challenges. Infrastructure takes time, and—"

"Infrastructure ki baat karte ho, haan?" Rohan snapped, pacing back and forth. (Translation: "You talk about infrastructure, huh?")

"You've had decades to fix this system! Do you know how many talented footballers are wasting away in villages and small towns because AIFF doesn't care? Tum log bas apne relatives aur dost ko positions dete ho, aur talent ko ignore karte ho. Har ek zila level ka tournament khatam kar diya tum logon ne! And then you talk about systemic issues?" (Translation: "You people just give positions to your relatives and friends and ignore talent. You've ended every single district-level tournament!")

The Prime Minister picked up the damning report from his desk and hurled it onto the table in front of Gupta. "Read this! Funds meant for grassroots development diverted to personal accounts. Coaching slots given to unqualified relatives. Players selected not on merit but on connections. Tum logon ki gandi politics ne is desh ke football ka satyanash kar diya hai!" (Translation: "Your dirty politics have destroyed football in this country!")

Gupta, now visibly sweating, adjusted his glasses nervously. "Sir, there have been some mistakes, but we are working on reforms—"

"Reforms?" Rohan's laugh was bitter and sharp. "Tum reforms ki baat karte ho? Tum logon ne jo bhi kiya hai usse reform kehte ho? Ek proper league system nahi banaya tumne! Grassroots programs toh naam ke hain. And what the hell is this obsession with bureaucracy over progress?" (Translation: "You talk about reforms? What you've done, you call that reform? You haven't even created a proper league system! Grassroots programs are just for show.")

"Prime Minister, we've been constrained by resources—"

"Resources?!" Rohan yelled, his voice echoing in the room. "Tumhare paas jo paisa tha, uska kya kiya tumne? Ek paisa players aur grounds pe kharch nahi kiya, aur aaj resources ka rona ro rahe ho? Jhoot mat bolo, Gupta! Do you think I'm blind? Do you think I don't know what goes on in your federation? Main har ek report dekh chuka hoon." (Translation: "What about the money you had? What did you do with it? Not a single rupee spent on players or grounds, and now you're crying about resources? Don't lie to me, Gupta! I've read every single report.")

Gupta fumbled with his files, his voice barely audible. "We've started making changes—"

"Changes?" Rohan interrupted, slamming his hand on the desk again. "Listen to me, Gupta. You have one month, ek mahina. If I don't see real progress by then, if I don't see a complete overhaul of AIFF, main tumhe jail bhej doonga. I'll have you removed from your position, stripped of all authority, and publicly humiliated." (Translation: "One month. If I don't see real progress by then, I'll send you to jail.")

Gupta's voice was barely a whisper. "Sir, I—"

"Don't 'sir' me," Rohan said, his tone dangerously low. "You will clean house. Fire every single incompetent person in your federation. And I don't care if they're your friends, family, or political allies get rid of them. I want a proper league system. I want grassroots programs across every district in the country. I want scouts who actually know what they're doing. And I want every single rupee spent on football to show results. Samjhe?" (Translation: "Understood?")

Gupta nodded weakly, his head hanging low. "Yes, Prime Minister."

Rohan stared him down, his eyes burning with fury. "And one more thing, Gupta. If I find out you're still indulging in nepotism or corruption, main tumhe personally expose karunga. You'll wish you'd never taken this job. Now get out of my office, and don't come back until you've fixed this mess!" (Translation: "I'll personally expose you.")

Gupta stumbled to his feet, clutching his files like a lifeline.

As he exited the office, the Prime Minister's voice followed him.

"Ek mahina, Gupta! Ek mahina. Ya toh tum apna kaam theek se karo, ya phir tayari karo jail jaane ki!" (Translation: "One month, Gupta! One month. Either do your job properly or prepare to go to jail!")

The door slammed shut behind Gupta, and Rohan leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply.

His hands trembled slightly not from fear, but from the sheer frustration of years of mismanagement that had held back the country's football potential.