Reborn in 1914: I Will Build India into a Superpower

1939-40

Ram briefly left Allahabad in late November, travelling by express train to Bombay and Maharashtra to meet with key leaders whose support was vital for his strategic apparatus.

In a high-ceilinged library in Bombay overlooking the Arabian Sea, Ram met with Vinayak Damodar Savarkar. The Hindu Mahasabha leader sat behind a massive oak desk stacked with pamphlets and historical texts, his dark eyes sharp behind round-rimmed spectacles.

”You advocate enlistment, Ram Prasad,” Savarkar said without preamble. ”Yet the Congress leaders hand in their resignations and go to jail like martyrs. Gandhi preaches non-violence to European dictators. Why do you break with them?”

”Because moral posturing does not win statehood, Savarkar-ji,” Ram said, setting his tea untouched on the corner of the desk. ”The Congress believes that by refusing to cooperate, they will shame the British into granting independence. But the British have no shame when their survival is at stake. If the Congress steps out of the state apparatus, the Muslim League will offer total cooperation in exchange for political concessions, military patronage, and dominance in the critical provinces.”

Savarkar leaned forward, his hands flat on the desk. ”Precisely. Jinnah understands power. If the Muslim population forms fifty per cent of the Indian Army during this war, the Raj will hand them whatever territorial demands they make when the war ends. We cannot allow the Hindu population to remain disarmed and untrained.”

”That is why I am here,” Ram said. ”The Hindu Mahasabha has the organisational reach among urban youth. I have the network within the industrial supply chains and recruitment channels. We must launch a national campaign for military enlistment. Join the army, join the navy, join the technical corps, join the air force. Defence of Indian borders must be our primary banner.”

Savarkar eyed him intently. ”And when the war ends?”

”When the war ends, they will not be loyal to the Crown,” Ram replied. ”They will be loyal to the land. When the British attempt to use the military to suppress an uprising after this war, they will find that the gun barrels are pointed in the wrong direction.”

Three days later, Ram sat in a private dining room at the Taj Mahal Hotel in Bombay with the titans of Indian industry: Ghanshyam Das Birla, Ambalal Sarabhai, Seth Walchand Hirachand, and representatives from Tata and Dalmia.

”It is not merely a question of patriotism, gentlemen,” Ram said, standing before a map pinned to the panelled wall. ”It is an economic and military necessity. The war in Europe will cut off British imports. The Imperial government will be desperate for everything: steel rails, artillery shells, cotton uniforms, leather boots, lubricants, and processed rations.”

Birla puffed slowly on his cigar. ”The War Supply Board in Delhi is already issuing contracts, Ram Prasad-ji. But the British firms in Calcutta are getting the lion’s share. They want to leave us with simple textiles and basic foundry work.”

”Then force their hand,” Ram urged. ”Offer prices they cannot refuse, and build heavy manufacturing under the guise of war production. Walchand-ji, expand your yards. Build the slips. Import the machinery. If they ask why, tell them you are preparing for emergency repairs of His Majesty’s vessels. Gain the technical experience now, for our future.”

Walchand Hirachand nodded. ”And the risk of shortages?”

”That brings me to the most crucial point,” Ram said, his tone dropping into gravity. ”Winston Churchill’s influence in London is rising, and with it, imperial policies that will prioritise European war fronts over Indian domestic survival. The British will attempt to redirect Indian food grains, wheat from Punjab and rice from Bengal, to feed British troops and European reserves. It will engineer massive, artificial famines across the country.”

The room grew dead silent.

”We must act now,” Ram commanded, leaning over the table. ”Through your trading networks, I urge you to start covert foodstock hoarding immediately. Buy wheat, rice, cereals, and pulses through thousands of small local traders across the hinterlands. Store them in concealed granaries in Bihar, Orissa, and Bengal to alleviate the famines when they strike.”

Seth Dalmia frowned slightly. ”And the capital tied up in these stocks?”

”We expand into the packaged food industry for the war effort,” Ram explained smoothly. ”We supply processed, packaged rations to the British military, and we systematically skim a percentage of the production directly into our emergency relief depots. When you ask about profits, assure your boards that post-independence, the enterprise that held the nation together will hold the keys to its economy.”

Birla looked at Walchand, then slowly nodded. ”The trade networks will begin the capital pooling and grain purchases by next week.”

Returning to his operational base in Allahabad, Ram turned his attention to the northern and eastern frontiers. He summoned Shaktidas Sharma to outline the directives for the Samvardhan Network, their nascent intelligence organisation.

”The borderlands are our shield,” Ram said, spreading a topographical map of the Northeast, Burma, Tibet, Ceylon, Bhutan, and Nepal across his desk. ”Shaktidas, your agents must begin complete assimilation into the frontier tribes immediately.”

”Assimilation?” Shaktidas asked.

”Some years ago, we began collecting tribal folk tales, idioms, and methods of worship through our trader network,” Ram reminded him. ”Now that work bears fruit. I have had those detailed dossiers reviewed by learned priests and scholars from Kashi and beyond. They have mapped the exact structural overlaps between local tribal traditions and broader Sanatan practices.”

Ram tapped the map near the Naga and Mizo hills.

”When your agents interact with the tribal elders, they are to use these overlapping practices to show them that the man from the plains is a brother,” Ram instructed carefully. ”And where practices do not overlap, their unique customs, their distinct heritage, your agents will show absolute respect and value.

”Teach our operatives that these non-overlapping traditions are the unique heritage of the tribes, to be preserved, not erased. Show them that a free India will not treat them as exotic subjects or forget them as the British do.”

”And the tribal leadership?” Shaktidas noted down.

”Identify and cultivate loyal tribesmen, whether they are traditional headmen or young men of influence,” Ram said. ”Introduce them to the wonders of modern technology. Show them radios, cameras, modern medicine. If any express curiosity in learning, teach them in Sanskrit. Show them what the future offers within our fold.”

”What of those leaders who prove hostile? Those who demand absolute isolation or total autonomy?”

Ram’s voice cooled. ”If a tribal leader insists on total separation and cannot be reasoned with or bribed, work systematically to displace them. Marginalise them politically, erode their influence, and elevate loyal, forward-looking figures into positions of tribal authority.

”It is acceptable to move slowly; we have the better part of a decade before the Empire fully unravels. Just ensure that when the moment comes, the tribes identify themselves as Indians first, and Nagas, Kukis, Chins, or Garos second.”

”And their intelligence value?”

”Catalogue everything,” Ram said. ”Map every mountain pass, every monsoon trail, every river crossing. Identify troop leaders, emerging political figures, their virtues, their vices, their financial pressure points. But above all, remain safe and totally anonymous until called upon.”

Back in Allahabad, Ram met with senior representatives of the Marwari network and the Traders Security Force to issue explicit operational directives for the home front.

”The political trajectory is clear,” Ram stated in a shuttered room near the Chowk. ”The demands for Partition will inevitably lead to civil strife in the contested border provinces. We must prepare the civilian population now.”

He laid out four distinct mandates:

First, the network was to intensify the distribution of Ram’s privately manufactured small arms: revolvers, light rifles, and basic submachine guns from their clandestine workshops directly into Hindu households across Bengal, Sindh, Jammu, and Punjab.

Second, the Traders Security Force was instructed to set up covert training cells in these vulnerable areas, teaching civilians firearm usage, basic maintenance, and urban defence, while encouraging eligible young men to enlist in the regular armed forces.

Third, intelligence agents were ordered to thoroughly map all transport logistics across Northern India: train schedules, primary road routes, secondary dirt tracks, and vulnerable ambush points. ”When Partition comes,” Ram noted grimly, ”it will mean total population transfers. We must control the evacuation corridors to protect our people.”

Fourth, the expansion of the packaged food industry was to be accelerated. ”Stock grains, pulses, and packaged foods under the banner of military procurement,” Ram directed. ”Feed the war effort on paper, but store the surplus in our clandestine networks.”

When one regional merchant expressed hesitation over the immense capital risk, Ram smiled faintly. ”Your investments today buy the industrial foundation of a sovereign republic. Post-independence, those who sustained the nation will lead its commerce. Trust me. Have you incurred losses by helping me so far?”

While Ram directed military and industrial strategy, he recognised a critical vulnerability in the nationalist movement: the wives and widows of freedom fighters who were left isolated and impoverished as thousands of men were swept into imperial prisons.

Sitting in his Allahabad study, Ram drafted a comprehensive framework to organise these women into a structured auxiliary force, the Seva Vahini. They were to be trained in field nursing, basic medicine, food preparation, sanitation, and logistics.

To secure broad legitimacy, Ram sought and received explicit support from leading political voices across the spectrum: Jawaharlal Nehru praised the initiative for driving female literacy and workforce integration; Sardar Patel valued its practical administrative utility; and Subhas Chandra Bose endorsed the mobilisation of women as essential for national liberation. Leading female voices of the era championed the movement as a path to financial independence.

However, Ram introduced a requirement that sparked immediate debate: the primary medium of instruction, literacy, and inter-provincial communication within the Seva Vahini was to be simplified Sanskrit.

Inside an administrative office in Allahabad, a delegation of local educational reformers and political activists confronted him.

”Sanskrit, Ram Prasad-ji?” an elder scholar protested. ”These women need practical education in Hindustani or regional vernaculars! Why burden them with an ancient language when they are learning nursing and food distribution?”

Ram prevaricated smoothly, leaning back in his chair with an air of mild surprise. ”Burden them? Pradhan-ji, Sanskrit is the structural root of nearly every regional tongue they speak. By using its core grammar, a woman from Maharashtra, a woman from Bengal, and a woman from UP can coordinate a relief kitchen or a field hospital without a translator.”

”It is impractical!” another activist argued. ”It will provoke unnecessary ideological debate!”

Ram blustered, waving his hand with authority. ”Let the politicians debate ideology in their drawing rooms while our women save lives in the field! Is it better that a Gujarati widow and a Punjabi mother stand mute in a medical camp because they lack a common tongue? Sanskrit provides an absolute, neutral, and universal communication bridge that belongs to no single province.”

He manipulated the debate by framing it as a matter of maternal and national efficiency, bypassing their objections with unyielding confidence.

”Remember this,” Ram said softly, ending the argument. ”It is the mother who teaches the child long before any schoolmaster enters their life. If we educate these women in a unified, noble linguistic foundation, when they return to their households, they will pass that knowledge, that discipline, and that unity directly to their children. We are not just training auxiliary workers for a war; we are educating the mothers of the Republic.”

Within months, auxiliary training centres were operational. Hundreds of women, wearing simple, sturdy khadi saris, learned field sanitation, wound care, large-scale food preparation, and literacy, transforming from isolated dependents into an organised, self-reliant force.

By May 1940, the geopolitical landscape fractured completely. The German blitzkrieg ripped through Western Europe, pushing British forces back to the sea at Dunkirk.

In London, Neville Chamberlain resigned. On May 10, 1940, Winston Churchill assumed office as Prime Minister of Great Britain.

The news reached Allahabad late at night over the shortwave radio. Shaktidas brought the decoded transcript into Ram’s study, where Ram sat reviewing logistics reports from the Marwari grain depots and recruitment tallies from the military bases.

”Churchill is Prime Minister,” Shaktidas said quietly. ”The imperial hardliners have taken total control in London.”

Ram set his papers down, staring at the small oil lamp flickering on his desk.

”Churchill,” Ram murmured. ”A man who views India as a mere supply farm for the Empire, and our people as secondary subjects.”

”He will offer no concessions,” Shaktidas said. ”He will squeeze the subcontinent for every grain of wheat, every bar of iron, and every soldier he can throw into Europe.”

”Let him try,” Ram said, standing up and walking to the window. Outside, the dark waters of the Ganges flowed silently past Allahabad, deep and unstoppable. ”Churchill believes he is saving an Empire. He does not realise he is accelerating its demise.”

Ram turned back to his desk, his face set like iron.

”Our young men are inside their barracks learning artillery and signals,” Ram said. ”Our industrialists are building steel mills and shipyards. Our grain is filling clandestine silos. Our intelligence is rooted in the hills, and our women are organised. Let Churchill demand his war. We will build our state in its shadow.”

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