[A/N: Do you want Sunday-Tuesday-Friday update or Monday-Wednesday-Friday update? I might drop an extra chapter on the occasional Saturday or Sunday.]
The reports from Kashmir, detailing the fierce stand of Sikh Regiment and the death of Lieutenant Colonel Dewan Ranjit Rai, was still fresh on Arjun Mehra's desk in the pre-dawn quiet of his South Block office. He read them with the same outward impassivity he displayed in the War Cabinet, his expression, a carefully constructed mask of detached command.
Brave officers, he noted internally, registering the losses. A necessary sacrifices to buy time. He'd repeated similar cold equations to himself countless times since this improbable second life began. He was the guide of a new India, and it would need calculations, stresses, and acceptable losses, not sentiments, not at such crucial time.
Yet, as he stared at Colonel Rai's and other Sikh Regiment soldiers name on the casualty list, an unexpected tremor ran through him. He had never met the man or the Regiment that he led, but he had heard of their feats from the General, of their chivalrous spirit and unwavering courage. And now, a flicker of something hot and unwelcome emerged: rage. Rage at the sheer audacity of Pakistan's aggression, at the fanatical zeal of the lashkars who had necessitated such a sacrifice. And beneath the rage, a sliver of something sharper – guilt.
Rai and his men were dead because of decisions Arjun had made, because of a grand, sweeping plan that demanded such individual tragedies as its down payment. He had known, intellectually, that men would die. Good men. Brave men. But the stark reality of names, multiple lives that were extinguished, pricked at the hardened shell that he thought he inherited when he opened his eyes in this new reality.
They were good men, a voice whispered in the recesses of his mind, an inner voice of historian Dr. Arjun Mehra he once was, before the accident, before this rebirth. Did they have to die so soon?
Arjun squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, pushing the thought away. He straightened, the mask of the Prime Minister, the war leader, snapping back into place. He conjured the images from his original timeline: the festering wound of a divided Kashmir, the endless insurgency, the wars of '65, '71, Kargil. He saw the Punjab of his youth, still bearing the scars of a partition that had never truly healed, the simmering resentments, the cross-border terrorism that had bled India for decades. He remembered the political weakness, the indecision, the opportunities squandered by leaders who lacked the will to make hard choices.
"It was necessary," he muttered aloud to the empty room, his voice a harsh rasp. "This pain, these losses now, are a fraction of what India would endure over seventy years of a festering conflict, of a hostile, unstable neighbour perpetually seeking to undermine us. This surgery, however brutal, is to save the patient from a slow, agonizing death."
Or is it? The insidious whisper returned. Is this foresight, or are you merely playing God with lives that are not yours to spend, driven by an ambition grander than any one man should possess?
He slammed his fist on the desk, the sudden violence startling even himself. No. Doubt was a luxury he could not afford. The path was set. The vision was clear. He was not just preventing a worse future; he was forging a better one, a stronger one. An Akhand Bharat. And the price had to be paid. Colonel Rai's sacrifice, and those of the men who fought beside him, would not be in vain. They would be the foundation stones of that new India. He would ensure it.
With this newfound resolve, he turned back to the day's agenda. The grim news from Pattan and the heroic but costly stand of Sikh Regiment, particularly the death of Colonel Rai, reverberated through the highest echelons in New Delhi. Yet, for Arjun Mehra, it was now a validated cost. The sacrifice had bought time, the most precious commodity in the gamble of Operation Bharat Shakti. The invaders' initial momentum was lost; the vital Srinagar airfield held, thanks to the tenacity of men like Major Somnath Sharma. Now, the Indian counter-punch, meticulously planned, was about to land with devastating force, not just in Kashmir, but across multiple, unsuspecting fronts.
Kashmir – Late October to Mid-November 1947
Reinforcements poured into the Srinagar valley. The 1st Kumaon, followed by other battle-hardened infantry battalions and mountain artillery, shored up the fragile defences. Brigadier "Bogey" Sen, a dynamic and aggressive commander, quickly established a cohesive defence and began planning localized counter-attacks. The focus remained on securing the Srinagar valley, pushing the raiders back from critical areas, and relieving the pressure on isolated state force garrisons.
The fighting was savage. The lashkars, though poorly disciplined, were fanatical and knew the terrain. But they were now facing organized, professional soldiers who were well-led and increasingly well-supplied. Indian Air Force Spitfires and Tempests, operating from hastily prepared strips, began to strafe and bomb enemy concentrations, adding a new dimension of terror for the invaders.
While the primary focus was on stabilizing the Kashmir front and grinding down the initial wave of invaders, the groundwork for the offensive push towards Gilgit and Baltistan was subtly being laid. Intelligence assets were activated, and the initial PVC brigades, having completed their truncated but intense training, began their phased induction.
They were still raw, but their numbers and sheer ferocity, born of personal loss and a burning desire for retribution, would be a critical factor in the gruelling mountain warfare to come. Arjun's aim was clear: To secure the valley and then systematically cleanse the entirety of Jammu & Kashmir, including Gilgit-Baltistan and Khyber, by January end, 1948. The initial phase – holding Srinagar and pushing back the main raider force – was expected to be achieved much sooner, well within November.
Delhi – The War Room
Back in Delhi, Arjun presided over the War Cabinet with an iron grip. The news from Kashmir, while still reporting fierce fighting, was increasingly positive. The tide was slowly turning.
"Srinagar is secure, Prime Minister," General Cariappa reported in mid-November. "Brigadier Sen is confident he can begin pushing the enemy back towards Uri and Domel. The tribals are showing signs of disorganization and their supply lines are being effectively interdicted by our air assets and special patrols."
"Excellent, General," Arjun replied, his eyes, however, fixed on the larger map of the subcontinent. "Kashmir was the bait. Pakistan has taken it. Now, we spring the wider trap. The success of Operation Bharat Shakti hinges on speed and overwhelming force on multiple fronts simultaneously. We must achieve our objectives within three months duration. Any longer, and the international jackals, particularly those with a vested interest in a pliable Pakistan, will begin to howl too loudly for even our new-found strength to ignore completely."
Patel nodded grimly. "The Islamic bloc is already making noises in diplomatic circles. Egypt, Saudi Arabia… they see Pakistan as a fraternal state. We must present them, and the world, with irreversible facts on the ground before they can coalesce any meaningful opposition or intervention."
"Precisely, Sardar-ji," Arjun affirmed. "Which is why the timelines for the Eastern and Western Fronts are non-negotiable. Krishna Menon-ji is already working overtime to make a concrete case that would help India in gaining a moral high ground when we demand for the permanent UNSC seat, where Pakistan will painted as the aggressor and the atrocities in Baramulla will be highlighted, all the while reminding the major powers of India's commitment to democracy and stability, positioning us as the responsible regional power."
The "TOP SECRET - GOVERNMENT OF INDIA WAR CABINET STRATEGIC BRIEFING" lay open on the table, its pages detailing the next phases:
"The Kalat treaty is progressing well," Arjun noted, tapping the briefing. "The Khan is interested in our offer, especially with the promise of autonomy and our military shield against Pakistani encroachment. Securing a logistical base there is vital for the sustainability of our Balochistan operations and for applying further pressure on a landlocked West Pakistan."
He looked at Cariappa. "General, are the preparations for the Eastern and Western Fronts on schedule for their January kick-offs? We must ensure that once these offensives begin, they are swift and decisive. Pakistan must be reeling on all fronts before February is out."
"All preparations are proceeding with maximum urgency, Prime Minister," Cariappa confirmed. "Troop concentrations, ammunition stockpiles, naval deployments for the amphibious assault – all are being managed under the tightest secrecy. The PVC brigades earmarked for the Lahore push are shaping up better than expected. The logistical challenges are immense, but we are overcoming them."
Arjun nodded, a flicker of grim satisfaction in his eyes. "The world believes this is a localized conflict in Kashmir. They clueless about the storm that is about to break over Pakistan. By the time they fully comprehend the scope of our operations, Pakistan will be a fragmented, landlocked rump state, its two wings severed, its port captured, its industrial heartland occupied. The Two-Nation Theory will be buried under the weight of Indian military might."
The final weeks of 1947 were a period of intense, covert activity. While the rest of the world has its attention sporadically focused on the grinding war in Kashmir, the Indian military machine was preparing for a series of coordinated hammer blows designed to shatter Pakistan within the first quarter of 1948.
The three-month window for achieving a strategic fait accompli was etched in Arjun's mind. The new year would witness the true, devastating unfolding of Operation Bharat Shakti.