A New India
Chapter 300 - 300: Let them burn while we rise

The air was still and silent around the Prime Minister's residence.

It was an unusual hour for meetings nearing midnight and the halls of the big estate were eerily still.

Rohan sat in his private study.

The only light came from a solitary desk lamp, casting long shadows across his tired but resolute face.

He tapped his fingers lightly on the polished mahogany table, his mind racing.

There was a discreet knock at the door.

Rohan straightened his back, setting down his glass of water.

"Come in," he said, his voice calm but firm.

The door opened just enough to admit Rao, the head of R&AW, India's intelligence agency.

He entered without a sound, closing the door behind him before stepping into the dim light.

His sharp eyes scanned the room, taking in the Prime Minister's demeanor.

It was rare for Rohan to call a meeting like this alone, without aides, without papers.

"Prime Minister," Rao said, his voice low but steady as he inclined his head slightly.

"Sit, Rao," Rohan replied, motioning to the chair across from him.

He waited until Rao had settled before leaning forward, his hands clasped tightly on the desk. "I assume you've been keeping an eye on the situation in the United States."

Rao nodded. "The civil rights movement. It's gaining significant momentum. The Montgomery Bus Boycott, this Rosa Parks incident it's galvanized the Black community. Martin Luther King Jr. is emerging as a prominent leader. Peaceful protests, but they're creating ripples."

Rohan's lips pressed into a thin line. "Ripples have a way of becoming waves, Rao. And waves can drown empires. America loves to meddle in everyone's business. They interfere in Asia, in Africa, claiming to be the champions of democracy. But look at them now unable to control their own streets."

Rao remained silent, his expression inscrutable.

He knew Rohan wasn't just venting.

This wasn't idle commentary.

There was something deliberate in the Prime Minister's tone.

Rohan leaned back, exhaling slowly. "America has become too comfortable as the world's policeman. They impose sanctions, dictate policies, support coups all to maintain their dominance. But what happens if they're forced to turn inward? What happens if their house starts to burn?"

Rao's gaze sharpened. "You're suggesting we… help light the fire?"

Rohan gave a faint smile. "Help it burn brighter, perhaps. The fire is already there, Rao. The discontent, the anger it's real. The Black community has suffered for centuries. They're rising up, but these movements can be fragile. A little push, a little nudge, and they can either succeed spectacularly… or spiral into chaos."

Rao tilted his head slightly, his mind already racing through possibilities. "You want to destabilize their civil rights movement?"

Rohan shook his head. "Not destabilize. Amplify. Escalate. Their government is struggling to keep up as it is. Imagine if protests turned into riots, if their cities became battlegrounds. They'd have no choice but to focus inward. A divided, distracted America is far less likely to interfere in global affairs or ours."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Rohan's words settling between them.

Rao studied the Prime Minister's face, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt.

He found none.

"It's a delicate operation," Rao said finally. "If we're discovered..."

"We won't be," Rohan interrupted, his tone sharp. "That's why I called you, Rao. You're the best at what you do. This has to be invisible. No trails, no connections to us. Use intermediaries, cutouts. Make it look organic."

Rao nodded slowly, though his mind was already working through the logistical challenges. "We'd need to identify the right factions. The civil rights movement is largely nonviolent, led by people like King who believe in peaceful resistance. But every movement has its fringes groups that are more militant, more impatient."

Rohan's eyes glinted in the dim light. "Exactly. Find those groups. They'll already be frustrated with the slow pace of change. Frustrated with the system. Frustrated with their own leaders, even. Give them resources. Feed their frustration. Let them become the face of the movement. Violence will delegitimize the protests and force the American government into a corner."

"And the leaders like King?" Rao asked. "They'll try to maintain control."

"Let them," Rohan said dismissively. "The beauty of this strategy is that it doesn't require us to create divisions they already exist. All we need to do is widen the cracks. If the movement fractures, the government will face multiple fronts. They won't know who to negotiate with, or how. It'll drain their resources, their focus, their morale."

Rao leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "This will require funding. And precision. The United States has robust intelligence networks. The CIA, the FBI they'll be watching for foreign interference."

Rohan nodded. "You'll have whatever you need. Use unofficial channels European intermediaries, offshore accounts. We've done it before."

Rao's mind worked methodically. "And operatives?"

"No direct involvement," Rohan said firmly. "This has to appear entirely domestic. Use expatriates, sympathizers. People who won't be traced back to us."

The clock on the mantle ticked softly, marking the seconds as the two men sat in silence, their conversation heavy with implications.

Rao finally spoke, his voice low but certain.

"I'll need time to plan. To identify the right people, the right channels. But it can be done."

Rohan leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I knew I could count on you, Rao. This isn't just about America. It's about positioning ourselves on the global stage. A distracted superpower leaves room for others to rise."

Rao stood, his movements deliberate. "I'll keep this contained, Prime Minister. No one outside this room will know."

Rohan nodded. "Good. Report directly to me. No one else."

Rao inclined his head slightly, then turned and walked toward the door.

As he reached for the handle, Rohan's voice stopped him.

"Rao."

Rao turned, his hand still on the doorknob.

"Remember," Rohan said, his tone grave, "this isn't just strategy. It's war. A different kind of war, but war nonetheless. And in war, discretion isn't just important, it's survival."

Rao gave a small nod. "Understood, Prime Minister."

The door closed softly behind him, leaving Rohan alone in the dim light of his study.

He stared out the window at the foggy night.

He whispered to himself, the words barely audible. "Let them burn while we rise."