The November air in Delhi possessed that peculiar quality of impending reckoning, crisp enough to sharpen thoughts, yet heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. As the machinery of war ground its relentless gears across the subcontinent's northern reaches, the capital continued to maintained its deceptive veneer of administrative normalcy. But within the sandstone majesty of what had once been the Viceroy's palace, now christened Rashtrapati Bhavan, a confrontation was brewing that would determine whether India's future would be shaped by the ghosts of empire or the iron will of independence.
Lord Louis Mountbatten, that last imperial proconsul who had wielded the scepter of the Raj with theatrical flair and precision, had accepted to meet the Prime Minister Arjun Mehra for what he termed an "urgent consultation on the Kashmir situation." The official pretext was thin as morning mist, the true purpose hung in the air like incense in a temple, visible only to those few who knew how to read the smoke.
Reports had reached Mountbatten's ears of developments that struck at the very foundation of his carefully orchestrated transition. Jawaharlal Nehru, the golden boy of Indian independence, was reportedly under house arrest. More perplexing still were the curious "reassignments" of Air Marshal Elmhirst and Rear-Admiral Jefford, British officers commanding India's nascent air and naval forces, dispatched on mysterious survey missions to the Andaman Islands at the very moment their expertise seemed most critical.
Arjun arrived with Sardar Patel, the Iron Man of India, whose presence alone seemed to alter the atmospheric pressure of any room he entered.
Mountbatten's study remained a shrine to fading empire, mahogany panels that had witnessed the dissolution of the greatest imperial project in human history, oil paintings of stern-faced ancestors, and the lingering aroma of Cuban cigars that spoke of privileges soon to be extinct. The Governor-General himself, resplendent in naval whites, rose to greet his guests with a smile that failed to reach his eyes.
"Prime Minister Mehra, Mr. Patel," Mountbatten began, his voice carrying cultivated warmth, "thank you for responding so promptly. The Kashmir situation continues to evolve, and I trust our forces are managing the complexities with their customary competence?"
Others might have missed the way Mountbatten articulated the sentence - with a subtle emphasis on the term 'our', but it was as clear as a crystal, to everyone present in the room.
Arjun settled into the proffered chair with fluid grace, his eyes capturing every micro-expression, every subtle shift in Mountbatten's posture. "Indeed, Your Excellency. Our soldiers have not merely secured Srinagar, they have begun the systematic elimination of the Pakistani-sponsored raiders. The operation proceeds with mathematical precision."
"Mathematical precision," Mountbatten repeated, tasting the phrase like wine of uncertain vintage. He leaned forward, abandoning theatrical bonhomie for genuine concern. "Which brings me to matters of perhaps even greater importance. Your senior colleagues, Jawaharlal, Maulana Azad, I'm told they are... indisposed?"
The question hung in the air like a blade suspended by silk thread.
Arjun took a measured sip of his tea, the porcelain's gentle clink the only sound in the sudden stillness. "They are, Your Excellency, experiencing considerable strain from our current national emergency. Recent intelligence confirmed that Pakistani operatives have successfully infiltrated our administrative apparatus. Given that our senior leaders represent prime targets for enemy action, whether assassination, kidnapping, or propaganda exploitation, I deemed it prudent to ensure their safety through protective relocation to secure facilities."
He paused, allowing the implications to settle. "The decision carries the additional benefit of allowing these overworked patriots a period of rest and contemplation, free from the crushing burden of public office during our most perilous hour."
Mountbatten's eyebrows ascended like twin question marks. "'House arrest' is the phrase being whispered in certain circles, Prime Minister. Confinement, severed communications, isolation, this hardly resembles the recuperative sabbatical you describe. It sounds, if you'll permit my candor, remarkably similar to the methods employed by regimes we both spent considerable effort opposing not so very long ago."
A rather deliberate attempt to call Arjun's methods and he himself, as no different from the oppressors. Patel's granite features remained impassive, but his silence possessed its own eloquence, a canyon of unspoken support that somehow made his presence more formidable than any verbal defense.
Arjun remained serenely unmoved. "Your Excellency, warfare, true warfare, not the ceremonial conflicts of bygone eras, necessitates measures that may appear draconian during peacetime. Certain individuals, motivated by understandable idealism but handicapped by dangerous naivety, were advocating courses of action that would have catastrophically compromised our national security. Their public dissent, broadcast at this critical juncture, would have provided aid and comfort to our enemies. My primary obligation is to the security and territorial integrity of India."
"Actions against your own cabinet colleagues?" Mountbatten's voice acquired an edge that could have carved steel. "And while we're examining these unconventional measures, perhaps you could enlighten me regarding Air Marshal Elmhirst and Rear-Admiral Jefford? I understand they've been dispatched on rather urgent 'survey missions' to the Andaman Islands? At precisely the moment when their expertise would seem most indispensable?"
The thrust was expertly delivered, striking at Arjun's gambit. To sideline these British commanders now represented a breathtaking assertion of sovereignty that could not possibly have escaped international attention.
Arjun set down his teacup with deliberate precision, his fingers forming a cathedral of contemplation. "Your Excellency raises concerns that honor your vigilance. Regarding our esteemed British colleagues, their reassignment represents strategic foresight of the highest order. We possess intelligence, credible and chilling, that Pakistani operatives have marked senior commanders of British origin as prizes of particular symbolic value."
The afternoon light had shifted, casting geometric shadows that seemed to divide the room into territories of truth and diplomacy.
"To eliminate or capture these distinguished officers would serve Pakistan's dual purpose: crippling our command structure while simultaneously fracturing the Anglo-Indian partnership that remains our greatest diplomatic asset. The Andaman assessments, while genuinely critical for our maritime defense architecture, offer the elegant solution of removing these valuable officers from immediate peril while preserving their contributions to our broader strategic vision."
Mountbatten's expression flickered with surprise. The analysis was sophisticated, yet suspicion lingered. "Survey missions? Now? With Kashmir ablaze? This strains credibility!"
"Sometimes, Your Excellency, the most crucial surveys are conducted precisely when conventional wisdom suggests they should be postponed. Our enemies expect predictability; we offer them paradox. The officers currently in command, Air Vice Marshal Mukherjee and Vice Admiral Katari, are executing their duties with distinction that honors Indian sovereignty."
The unspoken message resonated: Indian command for Indian wars.
Mountbatten stared at him, then at Patel's implacable face. The audacity was breathtaking. First, Nehru's house arrest. Now, the sidelining of British service chiefs. This Prime Minister was systematically dismantling the framework of guided independence.
"Regarding my cabinet colleagues," Arjun continued, "I understand how protective custody might appear through the lens of peacetime governance. Yet we stand at the fulcrum of history, where a single misguided statement could provide Pakistan with propaganda victories worth a dozen military defeats. Their safety and our national integrity are threads in the same tapestry, pull one, and you unravel both."
He leaned forward, intensity controlled but unmistakable. "Sometimes, Your Excellency, the cruelest burden of leadership is protecting those we serve from the consequences of their own virtue. History will judge whether I chose correctly, but it will not question whether I chose decisively."
The words fell into silence like stones into deep water. Mountbatten found himself confronting a version of Indian leadership that bore no resemblance to his carefully constructed expectations, an India that was decisively shrugging off the last vestiges of colonial deference, replacing guided transition with something far more assertive, far more dangerous, far more authentically Indian.