A New India
Chapter 283 - 283: The Resistance - I

The morning sun broke through the haze in Delhi as Rao sat in his office, meticulously reviewing the reports from the previous night.

The network was primed, and now, with precision and stealth, the next phase Rohan's grand plan to shift the global narrative, was set to unfold.

He picked up the phone and dialed KP Singh's office.

Within moments, KP's voice came through, sharp and clear.

"Rao, is everything in place?" KP asked, his tone betraying a mix of urgency and expectation.

"Yes," Rao replied curtly. "The network is active. Messages have gone out, and our operatives abroad are starting to organize protests. The media channels we've acquired are ready to publish their first wave of articles."

KP exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "Good. This needs to be precise. Any mistake and the international community will brand us propagandists."

Rao smirked. "Let them try. The truth is on our side."

In London

At a small café tucked away in Southall, a group of Indian diaspora leaders gathered under the guise of a community luncheon.

Professor Ajay, the academic and key figure in R&AW's London network, stood at the head of the table.

His calm demeanor belied the urgency of the situation.

"The protests begin tomorrow," Ajay announced, looking at each attendee. "We've secured permits for peaceful demonstrations in front of Parliament and several major media outlets."

One man, a shopkeeper from Wembley, raised his hand hesitantly. "Professor, do you think they'll take us seriously? The British press… they ignore us or twist our words."

Ajay's voice sharpened. "That's exactly why we're doing this. If we remain silent, we'll be ignored forever. Our people are being attacked back home and abroad. The world needs to know that we won't stand for it."

A young woman, a student from the University of London, chimed in. "What about signs and banners? We need to make our message clear."

Ajay nodded. "We have volunteers working on that. The message is simple: 'Stop the Hate. Stop the Violence.' We focus on unity, not division. They expect anger; we'll give them resolve."

The group murmured in agreement, and the meeting ended.

In New York

Across the Atlantic, Vidhi Patel's Manhattan apartment buzzed with quiet activity.

Volunteers folded flyers and packed banners into boxes while Vidhi reviewed the final draft of a press release.

"This needs to go to every media outlet by 8 a.m.," she instructed her assistant. "Emphasize the contributions of Indian-Americans to the economy. Doctors, engineers, small business owners we've built this country alongside them."

One volunteer, a middle-aged man who owned a grocery store in Queens, shook his head. "Do you really think they care about our contributions? They see our skin, and that's it."

Vidhi's voice hardened. "Then we make them care. We remind them who we are. And if they still don't listen, we keep pushing until they do."

In Sydney

Raj Malhotra stood on the steps of his shop, speaking to a small crowd of Indian-Australians who had gathered in response to his call.

Many looked apprehensive, unsure of what their protest would achieve.

"I know you're scared," Raj said, his voice steady. "I'm scared too. But staying silent won't protect us. It hasn't so far. We're not asking for special treatment we're asking for basic respect. For the chance to live and work in peace."

An older man in the crowd raised his voice. "And what if they retaliate? What if things get worse?"

Raj paused, looking the man in the eye. "Then we stand together. Because if we don't fight for ourselves, who will?"

While protests were being quietly organized, the second arm of the operation swung into action.

Small, struggling newspapers in key cities began publishing articles highlighting the plight of Indians abroad.

The stories were carefully crafted, balancing emotion with fact to counter accusations of propaganda.

In a corner of a small Chicago paper, an article titled "Silent Builders, Silenced Voices" began with a harrowing account of a hate crime against an Indian-American family.

It detailed how the father, an engineer, had contributed to the construction of local infrastructure but was still subjected to racial slurs and harassment.

Another piece in Sydney's Daily Herald focused on Indian-Australians' contributions to healthcare, with the headline: "Healers, Not Harmers: The Truth About Indian Immigrants."

These stories, though initially overlooked by major outlets, began to gain traction among local communities.

Letters to the editor poured in, some expressing outrage at the treatment of Indians, others voicing skepticism.

Rao entered Rohan's office late in the evening, a file clutched under his arm.

Rohan looked up from his desk, his expression expectant.

"It's begun," Rao said simply, placing the file in front of Rohan. "The protests are being organized as we speak. The first wave of articles is already published."

Rohan opened the file, scanning the clipped headlines and summaries.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "This is good. It's only the start, but it's good."

Neeraj entered the room with a tray of tea, setting it down on the table. "Sir, some international outlets are already picking up the smaller articles. Not the major ones yet, but it's spreading."

Rohan nodded. "They'll come around. The truth is harder to ignore when it's everywhere."

Rao hesitated before speaking. "There's something else, sir. Our operatives have reported that local leaders abroad are apprehensive. They're worried about retaliation."

Rohan's smile faded, replaced by a steely resolve. "Tell them this: Fear is the greatest weapon of those who hate us. If we succumb to it, we've already lost. They need to stand firm."

Neeraj glanced at Rao, then back at Rohan. "And what about the media backlash? The larger outlets won't stay silent for long. They'll call this propaganda."

Rohan leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant but fierce. "Let them. We're not spreading lies. We're telling the world what they've ignored for too long. If that makes them uncomfortable, so be it."

Rao stood, adjusting his coat. "I'll ensure the message is clear, sir. The diaspora won't back down."

As Rao left, Rohan turned to Neeraj. "This isn't just about defending our people abroad. It's about showing the world that India won't bow to hate. This is our moment, Neeraj. Let's make it count."

Across the world, as the sun set and rose again, the quiet murmur of resistance began to grow louder.

From London to Sydney, New York to Johannesburg, the Indian diaspora prepared to make their voices heard.