Awakening of India - 1947

(Flashback)

Nanking, Republic of China – April 1948

The humid air hung heavy over Nanking like a funeral shroud. President Chiang Kai-shek's office windows were thrown wide open, but no breeze stirred the suffocating atmosphere that seemed to mirror the Republic of China's dwindling fortunes.

Another dispatch landed on his desk with the soft thud of inevitability. Mao's Communist forces had taken yet another city, another stronghold that crumbled before the red tide that was sweeping across the northern plains.

Back in February, when India's dramatic ascension to the Security Council permanent seat had shocked the diplomatic world, he had some hope. Real hope.

The Kuomintang leadership had cast their vote for India, swayed by Prime Minister Mehra's vision of Asian solidarity and by his promises of future cooperation against the Communist threat.

For a brief moment, it had seemed as though China might finally have found an ally who understood their struggle, a fellow Asian nation, who was untainted by Western colonial baggage and strong enough to offer any meaningful support.

But weeks had turned into months. February's promises had dissolved into March's silence, and now, as April dragged on, that silence had only became more deafening.

From the news, it was clear that Delhi was consumed with its own massive internal reforms, along with the trade deals with US, Soviet and British.

The promised 'indirect assistance' and 'quiet cooperation' had vanished like morning mist.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, one of the decorated army General, General Chen Cheng given voice to what everyone else in the room was thinking during the morning's briefing.

"Where is this support Prime Minister Mehra promised?" His weathered face was etched with frustration.

"He had spoken so eloquently in the UN, and we'd casted our vote, but our wires from Delhi are still silent as ever. They gained their seat, and now they seem to forget their Asian brothers!", he said as he slammed his hand on the table.

Tsiang, who was also present in the room, found himself in a rather uncomfortable position of defending India's apparent indifference to an increasingly skeptical leadership.

Deep down, a bitter disappointment gnawed at him. Had India simply used their vote, offered grand words, and then abandoned them to face the Communist tide alone?

Republic of China was long accustomed to such betrayals throughout it's ancient history, but from a fellow Asian power, it stung differently.

The defeats were mounting one after the other, partially because Chiang Kai's inflexibility and equally incompetent administrators under him. But of course, he wasn't stupid enough to voice such complaints.

Each day brought news of another retreat, another strategic position lost. The once-mighty Kuomintang was bleeding away, province by agonizing province.

New York – April 12th, 1948

Then, unexpectedly, an opportunity knocked.

Tsiang had lingered in New York for the UN discussions on humanitarian aid to Pakistan when the invitation arrived. It was discreet, urgent and personally signed by Prime Minister Arjun Mehra himself.

The Indian leader was still in the city for the aid talks, and he wanted a private meeting. A meeting without any official record.

The hotel suite was unremarkable from the outside, but inside, the atmosphere was tense. Tsiang brought along Major Chen Liang, his military attaché, and both men carried the grievances about the Indian silence.

"We meet again, Ambassador Tsiang," Prime Minister Arjun began, his voice cutting through the silence with characteristic calm.

Tsiang nodded as he accepted his tea, but the pleasantries felt hollow to him. Finally, unable to wait any longer, he said, "Prime Minister, I must admit, your invitation surprised me. India has been... diplomatically absent from our current difficulties."

"We were simply observing, Ambassador Tsiang," Prime Minister Arjun replied.

The words sounded more like an excuse to Tsiang, a yet another polite deflection from a leader who had made promises he couldn't keep.

But then something changed. The Indian Prime Minister reached into a plain leather folder he had brought with him and laid out a series of meticulously drawn maps, annotated photographs, and what appeared to be detailed logistical breakdowns.

Tsiang and Chen Liang leaned forward, their skepticism evaporating as they poured over the documents. The intelligence was not precise but still staggering.

It contained intel about estimated troop movements of Communist armies across the northern fronts, locations of supply depots, analyses of river crossings and bridge conditions, specific vulnerabilities of Communist logistical hubs.

This wasn't just information—it was actionable intelligence of the highest order.

Nanking – Weeks Following April 12th

The KMT General Staff's initial skepticism vanished when the first operations based on Indian intelligence yielded spectacular results.

A surprise raid on a Communist supply depot, located around 2 KM from the location where the Indian maps indicated. After it was found, all KMT forces had to do was to spy on the location for precise information about the guard schedules and shifts.

Then, they struck. And netted massive quantities of captured arms and ammunition.

The morale boost was immediate and profound—for the first time in months, KMT forces had struck a meaningful blow against their enemies.

A coordinated strike on a river crossing, executed precisely as the Indian analysis suggested, forced a key Communist column into a prolonged delay that disrupted their entire offensive timeline.

These weren't strategic victories that would win the war, but they were the first tactical successes the KMT had seen in what felt like an eternity of continuous retreat.

The flicker of hope was intoxicating. Perhaps the Mandate of Heaven had not entirely abandoned them after all.

Dr. Tsiang, now back in Nanking and infused with renewed purpose, knew what he had to do. The value of that single piece of Indian intelligence was too profound to ignore. This couldn't be a one-time gift—it had to become a steady, reliable flow of crucial support.

He immediately requested an urgent, highly confidential audience with Prime Minister Arjun Mehra in Delhi.

The future of the Republic of China might well depend on it.

Delhi – Prime Minister's Office, South Block – May 2nd, 1948

Dr. Tingfu Tsiang arrived in Delhi almost two weeks after Gandhi's passing, the nation's flags having recently returned to full-mast after their period of mourning. He was ushered directly into Arjun Mehra's office, where the atmosphere was subdued but purposeful.

Arjun greeted him with a solemn nod. "Ambassador Tsiang. A pleasure to see you again, though I regret the circumstances of our nation's recent loss. I trust your journey was productive?"

Tsiang's shoulders, usually slumped under the weight of endless defeats, seemed straighter now. He nodded, "Thank you for your concern, Prime Minister, and yes, my trip was indeed very productive."

As the atmosphere began to settle, he bypassed the customary diplomatic niceties. "Prime Minister Mehra, actually there is a reason why I have come personally in such urgency. The intelligence you shared on April 12th in New York... it has proved very helpful.

The intelligence about the vulnerabilities of Communist forces proved quite accurate.

For the first time in many months, we have achieved a tactical successes. We inflicted significant damage on their supply lines and disrupted their planned offensives."

He paused, his gaze intense. "And now, we need more such intel. We are on the precipice, Prime Minister.

We are losing this war, not through lack of bravery, but through a lack of understanding of the true nature of enemy's operations."

Arjun listened, his face impassive, but a subtle glint entered his eyes. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

"Ambassador Tsaing, I'd already said it before, and will say it again, we will be providing you with intelligence, and without anything in exchange, not now at least. So if KMT thinks that we want any sort of compensation, then I assure them, we don't."

Tsiang continued, his voice dropping to desperate earnestness. "Even if you say that, Prime Minister, as a token of appreciation, my government is willing to offer significant concessions for India's long-term benefit.

We need the methods that bypass Western perception of colonial interference, to deal with Communists. The methods that, we think, only India can provide us."

He leaned forward, hands clasped tightly. "Aside from the intelligence, we want to know how to sow doubt about their 'Mandate of Heaven.'

We need to wage a psychological war alongside the conventional one. Your strategists, Prime Minister, seem to possess a unique understanding of this very particular kind of enemy. And your network... it appears specially effective."

'Interesting', Arjun considered this carefully, his gaze distant.

This was precisely the kind of arrangement he had subtly hinted at in New York, leveraging China's desperation not for territorial gain, but for strategic influence against a future threat.

This was how India, from its position of non-alignment, could project power without direct military entanglement.

"Ambassador," Arjun finally said, his voice calm, "I think that it would be better if Major Chen and our Director Sharma could work together, instead of me just handling you the intelligence we gathered.

With this, KMT will be more closely informed and it'll also reduce any unnecessary delays."

He offered a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "My Intelligence Bureau has considerable expertise in counter-insurgency and information warfare, developed over decades of dealing with various internal and external threats."

He called Menon, who had been quietly waiting outside the office.

"Menon-ji, please arrange a highly confidential working session between Ambassador Tsiang's military attaché, Major Chen Liang, and Director Sharma of the IB.

They will be discussing the immediate operational details of intelligence sharing and information warfare strategies. This will, of course, include methods for misdirection and discrediting Communist narratives."

He turned back to Tsiang. "I assume that will solve the issue at hand, Ambassador"

Tsiang rose, genuine relief washing over his face. This was more than he had dared to hope for. "Prime Minister, the Republic of China will never forget this. You have given us more than just a fighting chance."

As the Chinese delegation left, a subtle triumph shone in Arjun's eyes.

The seeds planted in New York were bearing fruit. India was not just receiving foreign assistance, but also quietly beginning to shape the fate of conflicts far beyond its borders, subtly countering the very ideological currents that had, in his original timeline, swept across Asia unopposed.

'Not to mention, this could also be the opportunity for R&AW, which is yet to be established', Arjun thought, as he looked outside his office window.