Delhi
Muhammad Ahmad Said Khan Chhatari had been appointed as the provisional administrator of the Hyderabad State. He had been serving as the Prime Minister of Hyderabad under the last Nizam. Maharaja Yadavindra Singh and Sardar Patel had both left for Delhi to see to the affairs in Jaipur and Jammu & Kashmir. Since Netaji had been busy planning his first state visit to the Soviet Union, he had left domestic affairs to his ministers. While Yadavindra and Patel racked their brains regarding the succession crisis, they had decided not to deploy an Indian Army troops in Hyderabad thinking that the state police would be capable enough to enforce the administration's rule.
A terrible mistake.
Netaji was set to leave for the USSR in a few days and the whole government machinery was busy preparing his trip. He was taking Chakravarti Rajagopalachari, the minister of industries with him to get him to learn about the rapid Soviet industrialisation and implement the same in India. This, despite Rajagopalachari's well-known disdain for the socialist economic model. He reminded at odds with Netaji because of his commitment to letting the free market take its course in the Indian economy.
"A free country, a free economy." These were his favourite words. Along with him, Liaquat Ali Khan, the Minister of Agriculture had also been taken to study the Soviet agricultural miracle.
Hyderabad
Azam Jah had just returned from Paris after hearing of his father's murder. He had hated him. He had always been emasculated by him. Azam Jah fancied himself a British-educated aristocrat, unlike his disappointment of a son who had become radical muslim. The fool kept talking of the caliphate. At his age Azam Jah wanted to enjoy the finer things in life. The best alcohol, the fastest cars and the most rapacious of women. He still did. Damn the Nizami he thought. This is forced upon me he thought. He was going to have his fun. His father was gone. Maybe he could still teach his son a thing or two.
Azam Jah had summoned all the 'working women' to his royal palace and was hosting an orgy. The throne room was filled with naked men and women, including the Prime Minister and the the Nizam-to-be. Servants served alcohol and a Rolls-Royce stood overturned in the middle. It was a wild party. He had also summoned his son, commanding him to come and partake with his father. Mukarram was angered at such a summoning. He loved his father but what he was doing was completely against his Islamic principles. Mukarram had read about the great Mughal emperor Shahenshah Aurangzeb, who presided over a great empire and never engaged in such atrocious lewdness. No, this will not fly. The infidels, the Maharaja of Patiala and Patel would not tell him what to do. His grandfather had named him his heir and he intended to take his throne and stake his claim. Mukarram went into the Jama Masjid to do his daily prayer.
He gathered 2000 men with the support of Bahadur Yar Jung, the Chief of the Razakars and the Grand Mufti of Hyderabad and began to march towards the palace whilst they chanted Islamic slogans, much to the chagrin of the Hindu residents.
Mukarram barged into the throne room, the ancestral sword in hand, gifted by a Mughal emperor to his forefather.
"Who the fuck is it ?"
"It is me, father. Mukarram."
"Ah, my son. I am Glad to have you here. Here have some wine and take one of these lovely ladies. European, American, Brazilian. Indian if you fancy. All creeds, my boy. Loosen up and have some fun."
"No."
Mukarram seethed with anger as he saw his father procreate with a white woman with a bottle of wine in his hand. At the same time the throne room was being swarmed in by the Razakars, who had started to slaughter all the inhabitants in the room.
"WHO THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING ?! STOP IT! I AM YOUR KING! GUARDS!"
The guards' heads were thrown in front of the King.
"YOU ARE NO KING. YOU ARE A DISGRACE. YOU SIN LIKE THE WHITE MAN AND YOU LICK THE BOOTS OF THE
INFIDELS. YOU HAVE DISGRACED THE NIZAMI FOR FAR TOO LONG. I WILL NOT ALLOW IT ANY LONGER!"
"You will not allow it ? Who do you think you are, boy ? I will have you whipped."
"I have consulted my advisors. Your sins are far greater than the one that I am about to commit."
Mukarram walked towards his father, slaying the two man who came to stop him. He seized him by his hair and punched him in the face.
"Mukarram please I am your father don't do this."
"MEN!"
Mukarram signalled two of his men to bend his father over the open door of the car in the room. Azam Jah began to weep like a child.
"Mukarram, please Mukarram stop. Please don't do this. You can be Nizam, let me go please, please forgive me.
"God has willed this father. You shall atone for your sins, father. ALLAH HU AKBAR!
"ALLAH HU AKBAR! ALLAH HU AKBAR! ALLAH HU AKBAR!"
Mukarram Jah swung the sword and lopped off his own father's head with a single stroke. The throne room ran loud with chants of Allah Hu Akbar.
The Grand Mufti of Hyderabad coronated Mukarram Jah as the 8th Nizam of Hyderabad, Nizam-ul-Mulk Khan Bahadur Mukarram Jah I. He had ordered a Great army of Jihad to be raised to fight the Indian Army. The state police forces thought of resisting Mukarram but on his coronation they expressed their fealty to him. They were in no position to resist the massive Razakar armies.
He mounted his father's head on the walls of the palace as a warning for his detractors and a site to behold for his supporters.
Astute for a teenager, Mukarram disallowed the wholesale killings of Hindus within the state. He summoned all the traders and businessmen and asked for their support in exchange for their lives. He wanted to secure more funds than he had. The Hindu business community agreed for the time being.
He meant to cut off Bose's head and restore the Mughal Empire and shift his court to the Red Fort. The new Nizam also sent a letter to Muhammad Ali Jinnah summoning him to Hyderabad. The purpose was to resurrect the Muslim League and encourage revolt all over India.
The Nizam, being the world's richest man could also afford to hire the best mercenaries for his armies. He sent telegrams to famous mercenaries like Jan Zumbach, Frank Glasgow Tinker and Ivor-Thord Gray to come and help him build up his army and airforce in exchange for huge sums of gold.
Maharaja Hari Singh's envoy was also making his was to Hyderabad unaware of the events that had just transpired. In Jammu and Kashmir large untrained and unruly militias massed in Srinagar asking for a return to the Islamic caliphate.
Maharaja Yadavindra Singh and Sardar Vallabhai Patel were still blissfully unaware of the coup d'état and debated on whether they should go to Jammu to appoint the Maharaja or do it from the comfort of Delhi.
Moscow
Netaji had arrived in Moscow and had been given a grand welcome. The Soviet Army band played in his honour and he was received the by Vyacheslav Molotov and Lavrentiy Beria. From there, Bose was ushered to a 30-car motorcade with his car being an open top from where he waved towards the adoring crowds of Russian citizens. Apparently Bose had become quite popular in Russia given his successful revolt against Imperial rule, something the Soviet citizens and veterans could relate to. The motorcade took him from the airport to the Kremlin to meet the supreme leader of the Soviet Union, Joseph Stalin.
"Ah, you're finally here, Comrade Bose. It is a pleasure to meet you, Comrade Bose. I Congratulate you for overthrowing those imperialists."
"Thank you, Comrade Stalin. The pleasure is all mine and congratulations to you as well,"
"What for ?"
"Why overthrowing the Czar, of course. And defeating Germany."
"Ha! I like you already comrade. Here have a seat."
"So how are you ? How's independence treating you ?"
"Most affectionately I might say. A few headaches here and there, something I am sure you would relate to."
"Oh, don't worry about that Prime Minister. Headaches have a way of resolving themselves. Here I want to show you something. Did you hear this speech that tub of lard Churchill gave in Missouri ? The iron curtain he calls my border."
"I had the displeasure of hearing it. He calls us uncivilised savages waving spears. Churchill is a very hateful man I've come to find out."
"He is going to be a great obstacle in our path, Mr. Bose. These westerners, they play the election game whenever it strikes their fancy and we pay the price for their policy changes."
"I agree. I detest Victorian democracy but my aversions won't stop the next election. He just might win the next time."
"Well, we should be prepared for any and every outcome. How are your negotiations going with the British ?"
"They are going well. We should have an agreement in the next few months. Churchill is still the one trying to fuck us. He still wants to keep colonies in Asia."
"Well, he won't be attacking you as long my ships are in Karachi. You have fulfilled the quest of every Russian Emperor since the last three centuries, comrade, by giving us Karachi. You have my full support."
"I am forever grateful to you for that Comrade Stalin. All of my people are. The presence of your ships was instrumental to stop that madman's raids. We have another order of business, comrade."
"What's that ?"
Bose sighed.
"It's Churchill again. He's blocking our entry into the United Nations. Atlee has agreed to vote in our favour but Churchill is not going to let him. I was hoping that you'd be able to persuade him."
"The old bugger is pissed off at me as well. They've been wanting me to do something that I am not going to. I need some your help for that."
"Anything you ask."
"I've quite some troops from the war still posted in Iran. The Americans and the British left a month ago. We have the opportunity to bring a friendly regime to power in Iran. It could help build a lucrative trade network through land."
"How can I help ?"
"Increase troop presence on the Iranian border with India. While the Shah focuses there, we'll orchestrate a revolution in the north, allowing them to secede and give us access. Once we open up Iran we can do the same in Afghanistan."
"My resources are at your disposal. The generals can discuss the details of the operation."
"Splendid. Before we go the orchestra there's one more thing, Prime Minister."
"Name it, sir."
"Tibet."
"HAHAHA! I spoke too soon. What is the matter with Tibet ?"
"Chairman Mao will want it back when he wins the war."
"Is he going to win the war ?"
"Damn right he is. It is only a matter of time."
"So, Tibet. He will want it."
"Aye. He will. Are you going to give it to him ?"
"What would you do if you were in my position ?"
"I am not in your position, Prime Minister Bose."
"Well, when the time comes, if it does come, I think Chairman Mao and I could come to an agreement about Tibet. Maybe I can sell it to him."
"That wouldn't be very communist of you."
"Wouldn't be very communist of him to buy it."
"BWAHAHAHA Alright then let's go see the orchestra."
"Tell me something else, Subhash."
"What is it, comrade ?"
"Do you still have the kings in India ?" What do you call them ?"
"The Maharajas. Yes, there are quite a lot of them."
"You should have them all killed. They'll give you trouble."
"I am not a butcher, sir. I cannot kill them all."
"All rulers are either butchers or meat, Subhash. You'd do well to get rid of them. We wouldn't be here if we'd kept the Czar around."
The Soviet Union deputed a thousand Soviet advisors in all facets of industry including coal, defence, railways, airways, roadways, steel, dams and another thousand to develop agriculture in India. All of them were to leave with Netaji at the conclusion of his 7-day tour. While Netaji remained in Moscow and met with Soviet generals and inspected Soviet armaments, Rajagopalachari and Liaquat Ali Khan toured pre-selected sites to copy the same in India. They were both due to return to Moscow on the last day.
Lahore
Shaukat Malik sat on a bench at the Lahore railway station waiting for the train to come. He had decided to go and check Peshawar with 30 of his men. He sent a 100 of them to Jammu and the rest were ordered to remain in Lahore. Malik's search hadn't yielded him much result. Lahore had been scoured but Mountbatten had not been found. He saw him nowhere. So he had decided to go to Peshawar. Mountbatten had to be in a city. An aristocrat like him could simply never survive in the countryside alone. But he was not alone there was he. No that was simply not possible. One of the men shot those kings. Another one blew up the protestors. Mountbatten definitely would be travelling with a companion. Or companions. They certainly would be in disguise. That's why he had chosen the Nihang for himself. He knew about every Nihang group heading west and everyone coming east. That sikh that he had met, he was suspicious of him. He was on none of the jathas and while he claimed to be, his group was nowhere to be seen. He spoke Punjabi with a thick accent but Malik could see through it. He had learnt of this kind of thing during his training. The man continued to trouble his mind until it hit him.
That Nihang was Mountbatten.
He had covered his legs and arms despite it being a hot day. Then his beard was thick as hell, covering his lips and ears and the turban was a big one. Everything was an attempt to hide his skin. His
white skin. It all came back to him. Those eyes. Those blue eyes. They could only belong to a British aristocrat not a low-born Indian. Malik's thoughts were interrupted as the same man embarked on the train. Malik immediately got up and signalled his men to get on the train. He decided to stop the train in the countryside and capture Mountbatten. From there they would divert the train back to Lahore and get Mountbatten back to Delhi.
Just as Malik was about to get on he saw an old priest with a long white beard getting on.
"You need to get your luggage on the train, old man ?"
The priest nodded.
"Can't speak can you ?"
He shakes his head. Malik picked up his bag and put on the train.
"There you go."
The priest tried to give him a coin.
"Oh no keep it. Happy to help. Are you travelling alone ?"
"He's with me, Sardarji. I am his nephew."
"You should stay close to him, lad. He's an old man."
"Of course. Luckily you were there to help this time."
"Have a pleasant journey."
"You too."
Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose with Joseph Stalin in Moscow
The Nizam's head mounted outside the ancestral palace in Hyderabad. His beard, moustache and hair were cut to humiliate him further.