Independence

The sun rose slowly on the morning of August 15th, 1947. It was a day unlike any other in the long history of the Indian subcontinent—a day that would be etched into the collective memory of millions for generations to come. After nearly two centuries of British colonial rule, India was finally free. The streets were alive with the sounds of celebration. People were dancing, waving flags, and shouting "Vande Mataram" and "Jai Hind" at the top of their lungs. For the first time, they could claim their country as their own.

But this moment of triumph was bittersweet. Just a day earlier, on August 14th, Pakistan had declared its independence as well. It had been carved out of the same land, marking the birth of a new nation—a nation born of religious division. Pakistan's Independence Day was celebrated with equal fervor, but the shadow of what was to come loomed large.

On August 17th, the full weight of the partition became known. The Radcliffe Line—the border dividing India and Pakistan—was finally revealed to the public. It cut through provinces, villages, and homes, splitting the subcontinent into two sovereign nations: India and Pakistan.

As the news of the partition spread, a wave of confusion, fear, and heartbreak swept across the land. The division wasn't just political—it was a severing of centuries-old ties, of shared history and culture. Families found themselves suddenly divided by borders. Neighbors who had lived together for generations now had to part ways, some forever. It was a forced division, and though it was necessary for the political future of the region, it was a deeply personal tragedy for millions.

Surya, as the leader of the Bharatiya Swatantra Sangh, stood in the room with the other top leaders of India. They had all gathered to discuss the unfolding situation. Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, Jawaharlal Nehru, and other prominent figures were present, as were representatives from Pakistan, including Muhammad Ali Jinnah. The mood was tense, to say the least.

"We cannot allow this division to tear apart the fabric of our country," Nehru said, pacing back and forth, his face lined with exhaustion. "But it seems the partition is already upon us. The people must be allowed to migrate peacefully."

Surya remained quiet, listening to the arguments and discussions around him. He knew that this was an inevitable outcome of the negotiations that had taken place. India had gained its freedom, but at a heavy cost. The land he loved was being divided, and people were being uprooted from their homes based on religion. But it was better for the future of India.

Sardar Patel spoke up, his voice strong but tempered with resignation. "The decision has been made. The partition is happening. But now, we must ensure that the migration happens peacefully. We have to facilitate the movement of people—both Hindus, Sikhs, and others coming to India, and Muslims moving to West Pakistan."

Surya glanced at the map that lay on the table before them. The Radcliffe Line had been drawn hastily by an outsider, Cyril Radcliffe, a British civil servant who had never set foot in India before being assigned the monumental task of drawing the borders. The arbitrary nature of the lines was clear, cutting across regions with no regard for the people who lived there.

"This is a mess," Surya said finally, his voice low but firm. "Why are we letting someone from Britain decide the fate of millions of Indians and Pakistanis? He's just a civil servant. We should have been the ones to draw the map."

Patel looked at Surya, his eyes filled with understanding but also with a sense of pragmatism. "Surya, the time for that debate has passed. The decision has been made, and we must move forward."

Surya wasn't satisfied. "At least let's be clear about one thing," he said. "We can't allow both East and West Pakistan to be created. If Jinnah wants Pakistan, he can have it—but he must choose either the east or the west. We can't give him both. It's too dangerous, strategically and politically."

Jinnah, who had been listening quietly until now, interjected. "Mr. Surya, you know that the Muslim population is spread across both East Bengal and the northwest. The creation of both East and West Pakistan is necessary to accommodate the Muslim population."

"Ohhh... what about the total Hindu population, more than 300 million? If it weren't for East Pakistan merging with India, your country would have only a population of around 50-70 million. I think the area of the Radcliffe Line is enough for them to live."

Surya's eyes narrowed. "And what about the Hindus, Sikhs, and others who have lived in those regions for centuries? What happens to them?"

"The migration will be difficult, yes," Jinnah admitted. "But it is a necessary step for the creation of two stable, independent nations."

Surya sighed. He knew that the partition was inevitable, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it could have been handled better. "Fine. But the migration must be organized and peaceful. We have six months to move people to their respective countries. And India will not turn its back on the Muslims who need to move to West Pakistan. We will help them migrate safely."

Patel nodded in agreement. "We will also need to deal with the princely states. Some of them, especially those with Muslim rulers, may resist joining India. We have to be prepared to bring them into the fold, by force if necessary."

Surya knew Patel was right. The princely states, especially the larger and more powerful ones, could pose a significant challenge to India's unity. Some had already indicated that they were unwilling to join India, preferring instead to remain independent or, in the case of some Muslim rulers, to join Pakistan. This was unacceptable to Surya and the other leaders. India needed to be united, and that meant bringing all the princely states into the new nation.

Over the next few days, plans were drawn up to facilitate the migration and to negotiate with the princely states. The Indian government would offer financial and military assistance to those states that agreed to join India, while those that resisted would be dealt with through diplomatic or military means.

As the leaders continued their discussions, the reality of the partition began to sink in. It was no longer just an abstract concept—it was happening. People were already starting to move, some fleeing in fear of violence, others reluctantly leaving their homes for a new life in a new country. The British had left, but they had left behind a land divided and a population traumatized.

The months that followed were some of the most chaotic in the history of the subcontinent. Trains carrying refugees between India and Pakistan were packed with people, many of whom had nothing but the clothes on their backs. Entire families were uprooted, forced to leave behind homes, businesses, and livelihoods.

Despite the best efforts of the Indian and Pakistani governments, violence broke out in many areas. Religious tensions that had been simmering for years boiled over, and horrific acts of violence were committed on both sides. It was a dark chapter in the history of both nations.

But amidst the chaos, there were also moments of hope and humanity. In many places, Hindus, Sikhs, and Muslims helped each other survive the migration. Some risked their lives to protect their neighbors, even if they were of a different religion. And both governments worked tirelessly to provide relief to the millions of refugees who had been displaced by the partition.

In India, Surya and his colleagues worked day and night to manage the migration and ensure that the princely states were brought into the new nation. One by one, the states agreed to join India, though some required more persuasion than others.

By the end of the fourth month, most of the migration had been completed, and the princely states had been integrated into India. The process had been far from perfect, and the scars of partition would remain for decades to come. But India had survived. It had emerged from the ashes of colonial rule as a free and independent nation.

On the evening of December 15th, 1947, Surya stood on the balcony of his home, looking out over the city of Delhi.

As Surya sat inside the building, Uncle Rajan arrived.

"Uncle Rajan, something?" Surya asked, unsure why Rajan had visited him.

"Well, it's about the people migrating between India and Pakistan," Uncle Rajan said slowly, though there was pain on his face.

"More than 60-70 million people were displaced, and the death toll is more than 2 million from both sides," Rajan sighed, his voice heavy with the weight of the situation.

For a moment, Surya fell into deep thought. According to the original estimates, around 19-20 million people had migrated, and the death toll was around one million.

Although Surya felt sorrow for the tragedy, he knew, coming from the future, what India would become. The current sacrifice, painful as it was, would pave the way for future generations.

"Okay, Uncle Rajan. I will handle this. Anything else?" Surya asked.

"The ruler of Kashmir is not merging with India, Nawab(king) of Bengal is also refusing, as well as Those sultan (king) of Mysore. and the notification you sent to Nepal to merge with India was rejected by the King of Nepal. However, there is civil unrest there, and the people are demanding Nepal's merger with India. We can only wait to see what happens next," Rajan reported grimly.

[A/N : I have currently postponed the war between India and Pakistan, wait within few months, there will be definitely battle between them.]