Awakening of India - 1947

Delhi – Intelligence Bureau (IB) Headquarters – May 1948

The war room buried deep within the IB headquarters felt like a tomb. No windows, no natural light, just the harsh glare of electric bulbs and the constant hum of ventilation fans.

Director Sharma stood before a massive map of China that covered nearly the entire wall, its surface marked with dozens of colored pins and penciled notes. The smell of coffee and cigarettes hung heavy in the air.

Major Chen Liang sat across from him, his Nationalist uniform rumpled from too many sleepless nights.

The Chinese military attaché looked older than his forty years, the weight of his country's civil war seems to have left a mark on every line of his face.

This was their first real working session, far from the polite conversations they'd shared in embassy drawing rooms.

"Major," Sharma began, his voice quiet but carrying complete authority, "let me be clear about what we're offering. We're not here to win your war for you. That's not possible, and frankly, it's not our goal."

Chen Liang's face showed a flicker of disappointment, but Sharma continued before he could speak.

"What we can do is change the game. We can plant seeds of doubt in Communist minds. We can disrupt their unity. We can buy your government time—precious time to regroup and find your footing."

Sharma moved closer to the map, pointing to several marked locations. "Prime Minister Mehra believes that in the ever evolving warfare, the battle for hearts and minds is just as important as the battle for territory."

The major leaned forward, studying the pins on the map. "The intelligence your Prime Minister provided has already helped us achieve some unexpected victories, Director Sharma. But the Communists learn quickly.

Their propaganda machine is powerful, and their supporters believe deeply in their cause."

"That's exactly why we need to be smarter than them," Sharma replied, pulling out a thick folder from his desk.

"My teams have spent weeks analysing your situation. We've cross-referenced your intelligence with information from our own sources—missionaries, traders, even some landowners in the communists' occupied areas."

He opened the folder and spread several documents across the table.

"We've a rough idea about key Communist supply lines and communication centers. But more importantly, we've found their weak points—places where doubt already exists, people who are starting to question whether Mao's promises are real."

Chen Liang picked up one of the documents, squinting at the detailed notes and diagrams. "What exactly are you proposing?"

Sharma sat down across from him, his expression growing more intense. "Psychological warfare, Major. But not the crude kind your people have been trying. This will be subtle, sophisticated, and completely deniable."

He began explaining the strategy, pointing to different areas on the map as he spoke.

"First, we create false reports about supply shortages in specific Communist-held regions. Not obvious lies, but carefully crafted information that makes their field commanders question whether their superiors are telling them the truth."

"Second, we plant rumors about power struggles within Mao's inner circle. Nothing dramatic—just small stories about disagreements, about people falling out of favor.

The kind of gossip that spreads naturally and makes lower-level leaders wonder if they're backing the right horse."

Chen Liang was taking notes now, his initial skepticism giving way to fascination. "This is...this is completely different from anything we've tried before."

"Third," Sharma continued, "we create ghost victories. Small reports of Nationalist successes in remote villages, places the Communists can't easily verify.

It boosts morale among your supporters and forces the Communists to waste resources checking on areas they thought were secure."

He pulled out another set of documents. "And finally, we undermine their key promises. Land reform, social justice, equality—these are powerful ideas, but their implementation has been brutal in many places.

We highlight the contradictions, the broken promises, the lives destroyed in the name of progress."

The major looked up from his notes. "But how do we spread this information without it being traced back to us?"

Sharma smiled for the first time that evening. "That's where our National Publicity Unit comes in. They've prepared sample campaigns that can be distributed through your existing networks, but with our guidance on timing and targeting."

He stood and walked to a different section of the map. "The key is making it seem authentic. This information has to appear to come from within Communist ranks, or from neutral sources that people trust.

Peasants who've been disappointed by Communist rule, wealthy merchants and landowners, Soldiers who haven't been paid, Local leaders who've seen promises broken, etc."

"We're not fighting just their army," Sharma continued, his voice growing more passionate.

"We're fighting their story. We're making people question whether the Communists really have the Mandate of Heaven, or if they're just another group of politicians making promises they can't keep."

Chen Liang sat back in his chair, while still processing all of this. "Director, this is... this is a completely new way of thinking about warfare.

And much more lethal as well, if done right. We've always focused on guns and territory, but with this, we're fighting against their cause, the very idea on which they operate."

"Yes, and Ideas are often more powerful than bullets," Sharma replied. "India has dealt with many kinds of insurgencies, many attempts to divide our people along religious and regional lines. So we understand how to fight battles in people's minds as well as on battlefields."

He returned to his seat, his expression becoming more serious.

"Our teams will work directly with yours. We'll provide training, resources, and ongoing support. But understand—our goal is specific. We want to delay the Communist advance across the Yangtze River.

We want to give the Republic of China time to establish a defensible position, whether that's on the mainland or elsewhere."

The major nodded slowly.

Delhi – South Block

While Director Sharma and Major Chen was planning how to plant seeds of confusion across China, the machinery of Arjun's domestic transformation continued its relentless work throughout India.

In the Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Development, thick files piled up on every desk. The Zamindari abolition program was moving a bit slower than expected, mainly because of road connectivity.

Teams of Land Settlement Authority officials, protected by disciplined Citizen Reserve Corps units, were moving through former feudal estates like clockwork.

The main resistance had already been dealt with last month, as for the minor ones, they were usually brief and ineffective.

The Internal Intelligence & Security Bureau had spent months identifying potential troublemakers, and the CBI had quietly frozen the bank accounts of families who might fund opposition.

Without money or organization, the old landlords could do little more than complain.

Meanwhile, bewildered peasants found themselves receiving official documents they could barely read, papers that supposedly gave them ownership of land their families had worked for generations.

The process was confusing, but the message was clear—the old system was already buried.

In the Ministry of Home Affairs, Sardar Patel oversaw a different kind of transformation.

Organizations that had opposed the government were simply disappearing. The Muslim League in India, the Communist Party, the Khaksar Movement, various religious groups—one day they existed, the next day they didn't.

No dramatic arrests, no public trials, no newspaper headlines. Leaders vanished quietly, offices were shuttered without explanation, publications stopped appearing.

The National Publicity Unit made sure that when people asked questions, those questions were drowned out by stories about national progress and unity.

It was as if these organizations had never existed at all.

General Cariappa sent regular reports from the western frontier, where the new Border Security Force battalions were taking up positions along India's new border with Pakistan.

The buffer zone was nearly cleared of civilians and buildings, creating a sterile barrier that would be almost impossible to cross undetected.

Behind this buffer, engineering teams worked frantically to establish proper infrastructure that will be used for the rapid deployment of the forces, in case the need arise in the future.

From the Ministry of Education came equally encouraging reports.

The new education curriculum had already started replacing the older books. And demand for linguistic teachers, especially Sanskrit ones, soared to an all time high.

Provisional Learning Outposts were sprouting in villages that had never seen a school before. Canvas tents and bamboo structures housing teachers, books, and hope for children who had never imagined they might learn to read.

And in between all of this, Citizen Reserve Corps was providing much of the manpower for this expansion, with carefully vetted young people serving as assistant teachers and construction workers.

Every volunteer was screened for loyalty and reliability. As Arjun didn't wanted to leave anything to chance.

He sat in his office in South Block, reading these reports with satisfaction, and also with small desperation. Truth was, he wanted to start focusing on the bigger, and more strategic matters, but unfortunately, India lacked the required ground work for it.

He sighed, 'Man, I really hope I could skip few couple years into the future.'

But well, it seems he can only wait patiently for the fruit of his efforts to ripen.

After all, he was creating a new kind of nation, one that would be strong enough to stand against any enemy, unified enough to resist any attempt at division, and sophisticated enough to project power across the region without anyone realizing what was happening.