Awakening of India - 1947

United Nations Headquarters, Lake Success, New York - 12th April 1948

The emergency session had been called at dawn, but by the time Arjun walked into the Security Council chamber at Lake Success, the April sun was already streaming through the tall windows.

The urgency was tangible, with delegates huddled in animated conversations, their voices carrying the weight of desperation that had brought them here.

Pakistan was dying.

The reports had been filtering in for weeks now: skeletal children in Hyderabad's (Pakistan) refugee camps, families fleeing inland as coastal areas fell under Indian control, crops rotting in fields that farmers could no longer reach.

What remained of Pakistan after India's territorial seizures was suffocating, cut off from its traditional supply routes and struggling to feed a population swollen with displaced persons.

Arjun took his seat in the observer gallery.

He watched as the Pakistani representative shuffled his papers with trembling hands. He didn't recognize him, probably someone hastily appointed after the previous ambassador had "resigned" in shame. The man looked like he hadn't slept in days.

The meeting began shortly afterwards.

"Mr. President," the Pakistani delegate began, his voice already breaking, "I come before this august body not to relitigate the events of recent months, but to speak for the innocent.

For the children who know nothing of politics but everything of hunger. For the mothers who watch their babies waste away while the world debates sovereignty and justice."

He held up a photograph with shaking hands. Even from the gallery, Arjun could see it was of a malnourished child.

"This is eight-year-old Fatima from Hyderabad (Pakistan). She weighs less than half what a healthy child her age should weigh. There are thousands like her, tens of thousands."

The chamber fell silent. Whatever one thought of Pakistan's actions, whatever justification there might be for the current situation, the image was undeniably heartbreaking.

The delegate from Egypt leaned forward at his microphone. "The Islamic world cannot stand idle while our brothers and sisters starve. We demand immediate action—humanitarian corridors, emergency food supplies, medical aid.

The children of Pakistan are not responsible for the sins of their government."

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the chamber. The Saudi representative nodded gravely. Even a British delegate, who had been consistently critical of Pakistani aggression, looked uncomfortable as more photographs were passed around.

Krishna Menon leaned over to whisper something to Arjun, but the Prime Minister raised a hand slightly, not now. He continued watching, his face impassive, as the emotional appeals built to a crescendo.

"The Government of Pakistan formally requests," the Pakistani delegate concluded, his voice now openly pleading, "that this Council authorize immediate humanitarian intervention.

We will accept any terms, any oversight, any conditions, but please, do not let pride and politics condemn innocents to death."

It was definitely directed towards India. Enjoying the story? Discover more on M|V|LEM6PYR.

The chamber erupted in hushed conversations. The Council President, a soft-spoken man from Argentina, called for order.

"The chair recognizes that several members wish to respond to Pakistan's request. However, given India's... particular position in this matter, perhaps the distinguished Prime Minister would care to address the Council first?"

All eyes turned to Arjun. He sat quietly for a moment longer, then rose and walked down to the speaking podium. His footsteps echoed in the sudden silence.

"Thank you, Mr. President." Arjun's voice was calm and measured, a rather stark contrast to the emotional pleas that had preceded him.

"India has listened carefully to the tragic situation described here today. Let me state clearly: the suffering of innocent civilians, particularly children, is never acceptable to us, regardless of the circumstances that led to their plight."

He paused, letting that sink in. "It is true that Pakistan's current difficulties stem directly from a war they initiated, a war that cost thousands of Indian lives, including the assassination of our nation's leading figures.

Justice has been served through the territorial adjustments and reparations we had demanded, though waived later."

The Pakistani delegate started to object, but Arjun continued smoothly. "However, justice served does not mean compassion abandoned. India's deep civilization teaches us that once a conflict is resolved, mercy must follow. We do not seek to compound tragedy with further tragedy."

Another pause. The chamber held its breath.

"Therefore, I, as the Prime Minister of Government of India, hereby announce that we will immediately establish a secure humanitarian corridor through the Republic of Balochistan, our protectorate, to allow vital aid to reach the suffering populations of West Pakistan."

The relief in the chamber was almost audible. Several delegates visibly sagged in their chairs. The Pakistani representative looked as though he might weep with gratitude.

But Arjun wasn't finished.

"This corridor will be maintained and secured entirely by Indian forces, working in coordination with the Balochi administration. We will provide naval escort for supply ships, overland transport security, and distribution oversight to ensure aid reaches those who need it most."

His tone remained businesslike. "This is, as you can imagine, an enormous undertaking. We will need to deploy thousands of troops, multiple ships, hundreds of vehicles, and even more administrative personnel."

The murmurs began again—where was this heading?

"Given the massive scale of this operation and the resources India will commit to ensuring its success, we believe it reasonable that the international community share in the costs.

Therefore, nations and organizations wishing to utilize this humanitarian corridor will be asked to contribute 15 kilograms of gold bullion for every hundred metric tons of aid transported through our secured channels."

The chamber erupted. Gold? For humanitarian aid? How audacious.

The Egyptian delegate shot to his feet. "Mr. President, this is unconscionable! India is demanding payment for basic human compassion!"

But Arjun remained unmoved. "With all due respect, this is not payment for compassion, it is cost-sharing for an extraordinarily complex logistical operation that only India is positioned to execute. We are not profiting, but instead ensuring the sustainability.

The gold will cover fuel, personnel, equipment, and security costs that will run into millions of dollars monthly."

The British representative frowned. "Prime Minister, surely there are less... dramatic ways to handle operational costs?"

He was well aware that Arjun was exaggerating the costs.

"Perhaps," Arjun replied calmly, "but gold is universally accepted, holds its value, and ensures that those requesting this assistance are genuinely committed to seeing it through. Anyone can promise future payments or currency transfers. Gold demonstrates serious intent."

The Pakistani delegate looked anguished. His country needed the aid desperately, but where would they find that much gold? The Islamic nations could afford it, but would they?

The Saudi representative was already calculating. His country's gold reserves were substantial, and the political cost of refusing aid to fellow Muslims would be enormous. Reluctantly, he nodded to his aide.

"The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia," he announced, "is prepared to meet India's terms for an initial shipment of food and medical supplies."

One by one, other Islamic nations followed suit. Egypt, Iran, Turkey—all committing to the gold payments, however grudgingly.

Especially Iran in particular. Although the Shah of Iran is usually neutral regarding India, he didn't want an unstable factor near Iran's borders.

It was also the reason why he condemned India's all-out offensive during the recent war, hoping to stop it before the war could have led to some unpredictable outcome. Though it still happened in the end.

Just when everyone thought that Islamic bloc would the main contributors, something unexpected happened. The American delegate, who had been whispering urgently with his staff, cleared his throat.

"Mr. President, while the United States finds India's pricing structure unconventional, we cannot stand by while children starve for want of bureaucratic niceties. United States of America will contribute gold bullion for a substantial aid package."

The British representative looked distinctly uncomfortable but nodded grimly. "His Majesty's Government concurs. Britain shall participate in this relief effort as well."

The French delegate, not to be outdone, added tersely, "The Republic of France will also contribute. This is a humanitarian imperative."

Even the usually pragmatic Canadian representative joined in: "Canada has long stood for compassion in times of crisis. We are prepared to contribute, food, resources, and where needed, the means to ensure relief reaches those who need it most."

The chamber buzzed with astonishment. The Western powers, despite their obvious distaste for what they clearly saw as extortion, were falling into line.

The moral pressure was simply too great—how could they explain to their own citizens that they had allowed mass starvation over the cost of gold?

Arjun watched this cascade of reluctant commitments with hidden satisfaction. He had correctly calculated that no major power could afford to be seen as the one who let Pakistani children starve over money.

The Islamic nations were committed by religious solidarity, but the Western powers were trapped by their own humanitarian rhetoric.

But it would work. The aid would flow, the dying would be fed, and India would emerge from the crisis not just as the region's dominant military power, but as its humanitarian gatekeeper as well.

More importantly, the world's wealthiest nations—both Eastern and Western—would be paying India handsomely for the privilege of doing good.

As Arjun returned to his seat, Krishna Menon leaned over and whispered, "The Americans and British look like they've swallowed bitter medicine."

"They have indeed," Arjun replied quietly. "They can't afford not to, politically. Even if their economy condition would beg to differ, like in the case of Britain.

The headlines writing themselves: 'America Refuses to Feed Starving Children Over Cost,' or 'Britain Lets Pakistani Infants Die to Save Gold.' Are simply unthinkable for the self-proclaimed guardians."

The Pakistani delegate was already on the phone with Multan, their new capital, probably explaining that help was coming from an unlikely coalition—the Islamic nations and Western powers. All of whom would pay India's price.

As the session moved to formal votes and logistics discussions, Arjun thought about how Pakistan's crisis had become India's opportunity. The main motive behind the gold was simple.

He wanted to India to have enough gold reserves to free the Indian Rupee that is still pegged to the British pound sterling.

Once the gold reserves are sufficient enough, India can peg the Rupee to Gold instead, similar to dollar. Making it more reliable and attractive to global investors, who would most definitely come to India in the future.

As they prepared to leave, Arjun suddenly turned. "Krishna-ji, please extend an invitation to the Chinese delegation for a private meeting. It's time we spoke about the promise we made to them."

-------------------------------

[A/N: Can anyone suggest me a paid plan for Patreon? I'm still confused how to give the advance chapters to paid customers. If the plan is of $2 for 3 additional chapters, then do I post all 3 at once?

Like if the free tier is on 43 today, paid one should be on 46? What after that? Will they go along the free tier after the free tier catches up to paid one? For entire month?]