Planing

After Surya looked at himself in the mirror, he was surprised at how handsome he was, even more so than in his previous life. Back then, he never paid much attention to his appearance because his work in defense was so intense, and his body had deteriorated from the constant stress and pressure.

"Well, I guess I am quite handsome…" he muttered, half-joking as he admired his reflection.

Then, he noticed something strange. There were marks on his hand—faint scars from knife or sword wounds. They looked old, as if they had been there for years. But he knew these injuries had happened just three days ago, during the fight before Anand Verma's death.

"How did they heal so quickly?" Surya wondered, puzzled. Even with modern biotechnology, it would have taken far longer to heal such deep cuts.

His mind flashed back to that fight. The day before Anand Verma's execution, their group, the Bharatiya Swatantra Sangh, had rebelled against the British in an attempt to save him. Surya himself had been injured in the struggle, but in the end, they couldn't save Anand. The regret of that failure hit him hard as he clenched his fist, slamming it against the wall in frustration.

"No… I can't let this go on like this," he muttered under his breath. He knew India would gain independence by August 15, 1947, but he also knew the country would still be controlled by the Indian National Congress (INC). Despite the efforts of the Bharatiya Swatantra Sangh, their influence was nothing compared to that of the INC. If things stayed the same, his vision of a stronger, self-sufficient India would remain a distant dream.

Determined, he reached for the drawer under the table, pulling out a calendar to check the date. According to the memories he had inherited from this new body, it was already July, and Hitler had died in May. Surya had once considered meeting Hitler—perhaps for some strategic reason—but now it seemed pointless. The war was ending, and the future was unfolding in ways he couldn't ignore.

As he was about to put the calendar back, a sudden realization struck him. "Wait... the atomic bomb on Japan… it's going to happen soon."

For a moment, an almost absurd thought crossed his mind. Could he somehow stop the bomb from being dropped on Japan? Could he alter history in that way? But he quickly dismissed it. There were too many unknowns, and his focus needed to remain on India.

"Wait... even if I say that America will drop the atomic bomb on Japan, they might not believe me because the Japanese Army has attacked Eastern India. They'll think America is scaring them in retaliation," he mused.

Surya began pacing the small room, his mind racing with ideas. He was already thinking of the future, far ahead of the present. There was so much that needed to be done, and he had to figure out how to get there.

Not long after, Rajan, his trusted ally, returned with several members of the Bharatiya Swatantra Sangh. Their faces were tired, and Surya knew he had to win them over and rebuild their trust.

Rajan introduced Surya to the group as their new leader. Surya looked at them, reading the uncertainty in their eyes. He needed to make an impression.

"Thank you for coming," Surya began, his voice steady. "I know losing Uncle Verma has shaken all of us. But now is not the time to give up. We need to unite, stronger than ever."

The room was silent, everyone waiting for him to continue. Surya took a breath and laid out his vision.

"I see a future for India that is not just free from British rule, but one that is prosperous, self-sufficient, and strong. I know what we can achieve if we start building that future now."

The group exchanged looks, some skeptical, others curious. Rajan stepped forward, his voice cautious. "Are you sure, Surya?"

Surya nodded. "Yes. I know what India can become—a global leader, not just in power, but in education, technology, and culture. But we have to start now, laying the groundwork."

Rajan narrowed his eyes but stayed silent, listening.

"Before that, we need to expand our network and strengthen our resistance. The British will try to crush us, but if we can spread our message, we'll gather more support. And once we're free, we need to think about how to build a strong foundation—investing in education, technology, and cultural pride."

A young woman named Anjali, one of the newer members, raised her hand. "But how do we get people to support us? So many are scared of the British."

Surya smiled slightly. "We give them hope. We show them that we're fighting for something bigger than just freedom—we're fighting for a better future. We'll use rallies, pamphlets, secret meetings—anything to spread the message and gain their trust."

Rajan nodded slowly, understanding Surya's vision. "It's ambitious," he said. "But if anyone can lead us, it's you."

Surya felt a surge of determination. "Thank you, Uncle Rajan. It won't be easy, and there will be sacrifices. But if we stand together, we can achieve more than just independence. We can build an India that stands tall and proud."

The group began discussing plans, their voices filled with renewed energy. Surya felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He was no longer just watching history unfold—he was now a part of shaping it.

Surya sat down with Rajan and the other members of the Bharatiya Swatantra Sangh, thinking carefully about what needed to happen next. He knew that if they were going to stand a chance against the British, and later the Indian National Congress, they had to bring in strong, trustworthy leaders. The movement needed more than just numbers—it needed influential people who could inspire others to join the fight for a better future.

Surya leaned forward, his voice calm as he said, "We need to bring more leaders into our fold. People who already have influence, who can rally the masses with us."

Rajan, curious, asked, "Who do you have in mind?"

Surya thought for a moment, recalling names from both his memories and history. "There are a few people I'm thinking of. Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, for one. His influence on the people is strong, and he's respected by many. Then, there's Nathuram Godse. He's passionate, driven. He could be a valuable asset if we can guide his energy in the right direction."

The group exchanged glances, nodding slowly. These were names that held weight, names that could help legitimize their movement.

Surya continued, "We need to form alliances with those who share our vision. But it's not just about politics. We need to influence the culture of this country—and that's the most important thing, the heart of the people of our country."

Rajan looked confused for a moment. "How do you mean?"

Surya leaned back in his chair, his mind turning. "We need to use the power of literature and poetry. If we can inspire people through words, through art, we'll ignite a fire in them that no British force can put out. It isn't just about guns and battles—it's about changing the way people think. After all, 200 years of slavery has had a deep mental effect on the people of our country."

Rajan's eyes widened in understanding. "So, you want to use writers and poets to spread the message?"

Surya nodded. "Exactly. We need to influence the minds of the people. If we can reach them through literature, through the words that touch their hearts, we'll have an army of people ready to fight for their future. Writers and poets have a unique power—they can make people feel something deeper, something that motivates them to act for our cause. This can be achieved because we have already influenced our country in the past."

One of the younger members, Arjun, who had been quietly listening, spoke up. "Do you have any names in mind for this, who are suitable currently?"

Surya smiled slightly. "I have a few. We should approach people like Rabindranath Tagore, and we can also use the literature of Lala Lajpat Rai and Subramania Bharati. Their poetry already speaks to the soul of the country. If we can get them to write for our cause, to influence people with their words, it will be more powerful than any weapon."

The group started to buzz with excitement. The idea of using literature as a tool for revolution was new, but it made sense. Art had always moved people in ways that force could not.

"We'll need to organize events," Surya added, "poetry readings, public gatherings where these writers can share their work. We'll need pamphlets and newspapers to spread the message across the country. The more people we can reach, the stronger we'll become."

Rajan, now fully on board, nodded eagerly. "Yes. We can use the printing presses to produce literature, distribute it in secret. People are hungry for hope, for something to believe in."

"Exactly. We don't just want to win this fight—we want to inspire an entire generation. We want them to believe in a new India, an India that's strong and proud, like it was."

Hmm....all of them agreed on it.

Suddenly Surya stopped and asked to them.

"Okay....all of you go to rest, we have to do also the rituals of the Uncle Verma, and what Sister Shreya?"

"Have you sent the information to her."