A New India
Chapter 223 - 223: Incoming Leaders - I

The airfield at Palam Airport buzzed with activity as the Indian diplomatic team and security personnel prepared for the arrival of France's Prime Minister.

The tarmac gleamed under the late morning sun, its neat rows of Indian Air Force personnel standing in ceremonial precision.

The tricolor fluttered gently alongside the French flag on tall poles at the arrival area, signaling the diplomatic importance of the occasion.

Nearby, Prime Minister Rohan stood with his senior ministers, his crisp jacket impeccable.

He glanced at his watch. France's aircraft was expected in less than five minutes.

"Final checks, please," Rohan said quietly to his Chief of Protocol, Ramesh, who immediately signaled to his team.

"Guards in place, national anthems ready," Ramesh confirmed, his clipboard in hand. He adjusted his tie nervously. "The French delegation will disembark first, followed by Prime Minister Jacques Beaumont."

Rohan nodded, his gaze steady as the first glint of the approaching plane appeared in the distance.

The sound of its engines grew louder, a dull roar that signaled the beginning of the historic arrivals.

The French aircraft, painted in its country's colors, touched down smoothly, its landing gear squealing against the tarmac.

A convoy of sleek black cars waited nearby, their doors opened by immaculately dressed chauffeurs.

As the aircraft taxied to its designated spot, Indian soldiers lined up along the runway, their rifles held at ceremonial attention.

Rohan turned to Ramesh. "Let's ensure the protocol is flawless. These moments matter."

The plane came to a halt, its engines winding down.

A set of portable stairs was rolled into place, and within moments, the aircraft door opened. French and Indian flags hung on either side of the gangway.

The first to disembark was the French Ambassador to India, a man whose tailored suit couldn't hide his relief at the successful arrival.

He was quickly followed by senior members of France's delegation.

Finally, Jacques Beaumont, the French Prime Minister, appeared at the top of the stairs.

He paused, his sharp eyes surveying the reception below.

Beaumont, a seasoned politician known for his stoic demeanor, adjusted his jacket before descending.

As he stepped onto Indian soil, the band struck up La Marseillaise, France's national anthem, played crisply by the Indian Air Force band.

Rohan stepped forward with a warm smile as Beaumont approached, his hand extended. "Welcome to India, Prime Minister Beaumont. It's an honor to host you."

Beaumont gripped his hand firmly, his expression softening into a small smile. "Merci, Prime Minister Rohan. The honor is mine."

The two leaders exchanged pleasantries, their voices carrying over the band's final notes.

Behind them, the Indian and French delegations stood in neat rows, observing the interaction.

Indian soldiers presented a ceremonial salute as the two leaders passed by, their rifles gleaming in the sunlight.

Beaumont turned to one of the soldiers, nodding respectfully. "Your ceremonial traditions are truly remarkable."

"We take great pride in them," Rohan replied. "And we're delighted to share them with you."

The group moved toward the waiting cars, where Rohan and Beaumont entered the lead vehicle, an armored black sedan.

The convoy departed the airfield, flanked by motorcyclists from the Delhi Police, their crisp uniforms adding to the spectacle.

As they drove toward Rashtrapati Bhavan, Beaumont glanced out of the window, taking in the streets of Delhi.

The city was unusually quiet, with security personnel visible at every turn.

Flags lined the main roads, and the occasional curious civilian peeked out from behind barricades.

"Your city is beautiful," Beaumont said after a moment. "I visited briefly years ago, but this is something else entirely."

"We wanted everything to reflect the importance of this meeting," Rohan replied. "Delhi has opened its heart to the world."

Arriving at Rashtrapati Bhavan, the convoy passed through multiple layers of security.

NSG operatives and Delhi Police officers stood at strategic points, their presence a silent reassurance of the safety measures in place.

As the cars came to a halt, Rohan stepped out first, gesturing for Beaumont to follow.

The Rashtrapati Bhavan, with its architecture made a striking impression.

A short ceremony followed. Indian soldiers in ceremonial dress uniforms saluted Beaumont, who returned the gesture with crisp precision.

The two national anthems were played once more, and the small crowd of dignitaries observed the formalities in respectful silence.

After the ceremony, Rohan led Beaumont inside for a brief private discussion before the day's events.

"We'll discuss the main agenda tomorrow," Rohan explained as they entered a grand conference room. "For now, please consider this your home."

Beaumont nodded. "You've outdone yourselves, Prime Minister. My thanks to you and your people."

Half an hour later, the preparations for the arrival of the American President began.

The same meticulous procedures were followed, but the tension in the air seemed to grow.

The United States, as the era's most powerful nation, carried its own weight of expectations and scrutiny.

Every detail had to be perfect.

As Air Force One touched down, its distinctive design standing out against the Delhi sky, the Indian Air Force band switched seamlessly to

"The Star-Spangled Banner."

Soldiers stood at attention once more, their faces expressionless but focused.

Rohan, now slightly more relaxed after the successful reception of Beaumont, adjusted his jacket and stepped forward.

The door of the aircraft opened, and a few moments later, President Dwight D. Eisenhower emerged.

His broad shoulders and confident gait projected calm authority as he descended the steps, pausing briefly to wave at the assembled crowd.

"President Eisenhower, welcome to India," Rohan said as Eisenhower approached, extending his hand.

Eisenhower shook his hand firmly, his trademark smile lighting up his face. "Thank you, Prime Minister. It's an honor to be here."

The two leaders exchanged formalities as the band concluded its performance.

Like Beaumont, Eisenhower was given a ceremonial salute, which he returned with military precision.

As they walked toward the waiting convoy, Eisenhower glanced around, clearly impressed by the scale of the preparations. "You've gone to great lengths for this conference, Prime Minister. The organization is remarkable."

"It's a reflection of how seriously we take this opportunity," Rohan replied. "The world needs solutions, and this is where we begin to find them."

Eisenhower nodded, his expression growing thoughtful. "You're right. The stakes couldn't be higher."

The convoy departed, retracing the route taken earlier by Beaumont's group.

Along the way, Eisenhower commented on the visible security presence. "Your people are thorough. I feel safer here than back home."

"That's the goal," Rohan said with a small smile. "We're committed to ensuring this conference proceeds without a hitch."

Upon arriving at Rashtrapati Bhavan, the reception was just as grand as it had been for Beaumont.

The soldiers repeated their ceremonial salutes.

The American delegation observed the proceedings with quiet admiration, noting the seamless coordination between the Indian hosts.

Inside the grand halls of Rashtrapati Bhavan, Eisenhower was led to a private room where he and Rohan held a brief conversation.

The two leaders spoke about the challenges ahead.

"You've undertaken an ambitious task, Prime Minister," Eisenhower said, leaning forward slightly. "Bringing the world together under one roof it's not easy."

"Nothing worthwhile ever is," Rohan replied. "But it's necessary."

Soon more leaders will arrive and Rohan started preparing for it.