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The road to Srinagar was a test of endurance, courage, and bladder control.
Vikram had traveled extensively in his 2026 life — flights, trains, the occasional road trip on modern highways with rest stops and GPS navigation.
Nothing had prepared him for the Jammu-Srinagar highway in May 1947.
The road — if it could be called that — was a narrow ribbon of gravel and packed earth carved into the flanks of the Himalayan foothills, winding through gorges so deep that sunlight reached the bottom for only a few hours each day.
On one side, sheer rock walls rose hundreds of feet. On the other, cliffs dropped into valleys where rivers roared over boulders like white thunder.
The surface alternated between bone-jarring corrugation and stretches of mud so deep that the vehicles sank to their axles.
They traveled in a convoy of three vehicles — two army jeeps and a civilian car, the latter carrying Patel and Vikram.
non followed in the second jeep, green-faced and gripping the door handle with white-knuckled determination.
Kao was sowhere ahead of them — he'd departed two days earlier to finalize security arrangents in Srinagar and to coordinate with RAW's Kashmir network.
The journey from Jammu to Srinagar took fourteen hours.
Fourteen hours of grinding, lurching, stopping for landslides, restarting, and praying to gods that Vikram wasn't sure he believed in anymore.
The altitude climbed steadily — from the subtropical heat of the Jammu plains through pine forests and alpine adows to the cool, clear air of the Kashmir Valley.
Patel endured it all with the stoic patience of a man who had spent thirty years traveling across India in conditions that made this road look luxurious.
He sat in the back seat, reading files, occasionally glancing out the window at the spectacular scenery with the mild interest of soone who appreciated beauty but had more important things to think about.
"You're not admiring the view, Sardar sahab," Vikram said during a rare mont when the road was smooth enough for conversation.
"I've seen mountains before. They don't change policy."
"These mountains might. Kashmir's geography is what makes it strategically irreplaceable.
The passes, the river valleys, the high plateaus — whoever controls this terrain controls the approaches to India from the north and west."
"I know." Patel's voice was flat. "That's why we're bouncing along this godforsaken road instead of sitting in my study in Delhi."
Vikram smiled despite himself. Patel's dry wit was one of the things that the history books never fully captured — the man could be genuinely funny when he chose to be, which was rare enough that it always ca as a surprise.
They reached the outskirts of Srinagar at 8 PM, as the last light was fading over the mountains.
The Kashmir Valley in May was heartbreakingly beautiful — green fields of rice paddies, orchards of apple and cherry in full bloom, the silver ribbon of the Jhelum River winding through a landscape that looked like it had been painted by a divine hand.
Dal Lake shimred in the distance, its surface dotted with shikaras and surrounded by the famous Mughal gardens that had made Kashmir the "Paradise on Earth" of emperor Jahangir's famous declaration.
No wonder everyone wants this place, Vikram thought, watching the valley unfold beneath them as the road descended from the Banihal Pass.
It's not just strategic. It's sacred. A land worth fighting for — and worth dying for, as too many people have discovered.
Their accommodation was a governnt guesthouse near the Jhelum — a modest colonial-era building with wooden floors, chintz curtains, and the persistent sll of pine smoke.
Kao was waiting at the entrance, his face carrying the controlled intensity that Vikram had learned to associate with important intelligence.
"Welco to Kashmir, Sardar sahab," Kao said, taking Patel's bag. "I trust the journey was comfortable."
"It was atrocious," Patel said. "Brief ."
They gathered in the guesthouse's dining room — a wood-paneled space with a stone fireplace and windows overlooking the river.
Tea appeared within minutes, along with simple Kashmiri fare: rice, rogan josh, and haak — a local spinach preparation that Vikram found unexpectedly delicious.
Kao reported with his usual precision.
"Three developnts since my arrival.
First: Sheikh Abdullah. The National Conference organized demonstrations in Srinagar on May 16th and 17th — peaceful, as instructed.
Approximately ten thousand people marched through Lal Chowk demanding Abdullah's release.
The Maharaja's response was muted — he deployed police but issued orders not to use force.
This morning, Abdullah was quietly transferred from Srinagar Central Jail to house arrest at a residence near Nishat Bagh.
Our operative reports that full release is being negotiated between the Maharaja's advisors and National Conference representatives."
"He's afraid," Patel observed. "The Maharaja. The demonstrations spooked him."
"Yes, sir. He's a man who rules through the appearance of authority, and that authority is visibly cracking.
The demonstrations showed him that his own Muslim subjects prefer Abdullah over him — and that scares him more than anything India or Pakistan could threaten."
"When will Abdullah be fully released?"
"My assessnt: within forty-eight hours. The Maharaja's advisors are recomnding release as a concession to maintain order.
They're also, according to our source in the court, privately advising the Maharaja to consider accession to India as the best guarantee of his personal safety."
"Good. That's our opening." Patel sipped his tea. "Second developnt?"
"The Gilgit Scouts." Kao's voice tightened almost imperceptibly. "As you know, the northern areas — Gilgit, Baltistan, and Hunza — are garrisoned by the Gilgit Scouts, a paramilitary force under British officers.
These officers are loyal to the British governnt and, in so cases, personally sympathetic to Pakistan.
Colonel Blackwood has been in contact with the senior British officer in Gilgit — a Major William Brown — through encrypted communications that we've partially intercepted."
"What are they saying?"
"The full content is unclear — their cipher is different from standard British military codes.
But we've decoded enough fragnts to determine that Brown is being instructed to prepare the Gilgit Scouts for a 'transition of authority' that would transfer the northern areas to Pakistani control imdiately after independence."
Vikram's blood ran cold. This was the exact scenario he'd feared — and the exact scenario that had played out in the original tiline.
In November 1947, Major Brown and the Gilgit Scouts had mutinied against the Maharaja's authority and declared accession to Pakistan, handing over the strategically vital northern territories without a fight.
It was one of the most significant territorial losses in Indian history, and it had happened because India was too slow, too unaware, and too focused on the valley to secure the north.
"Blackwood is orchestrating this," Vikram said.
"Blackwood is facilitating it," Kao corrected. "The Gilgit officers' sympathies are genuine — they've been cultivating Pakistani contacts for months. Blackwood is providing institutional cover and coordination."
"Can we stop it?"
"Not through the Gilgit Scouts directly. The British officers control the force, and they won't take orders from the Maharaja — let alone from India — until independence.
But we can pre-position Indian forces to move into the northern areas the mont British authority expires.
If Indian troops reach Gilgit before the Scouts can organize their mutiny, the situation is contained."
"That requires the Maharaja's accession," non pointed out. "Without legal authority, Indian troops in Gilgit would be an invasion."
"Which brings us back to the Maharaja," Patel said heavily. "Everything depends on getting his signature."
"Third developnt?" Vikram asked Kao.
"Abdullah wants to et you."
Vikram blinked. " specifically?"
"You specifically. Word of the Bengal Agreent has reached Kashmir — it's being discussed in every political circle in Srinagar.
Abdullah, even under house arrest, has heard about it. He's also heard that a young Congress advisor nad Rathore was the architect of the deal.
He wants to understand the model — and whether it can be adapted for Kashmir."
"How does he know my na?"
"Our operative — the journalist — has been eting with Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad, Abdullah's deputy.
Bakshi ntioned your role in the Bengal negotiations. Abdullah connected the dots."
Patel looked at Vikram. "Can you et him without the Maharaja finding out?"
"I can arrange it," Kao said. "Abdullah's house arrest is loosely enforced — he receives visitors regularly.
A visit from a Congress worker wouldn't raise unusual suspicion."
"Do it," Patel decided. "Rathore ets Abdullah tomorrow. I et the Maharaja the day after.
Abdullah's support is the leverage we need — if we can tell the Maharaja that his most popular rival endorses accession to India, it removes his last excuse for delay."
To be continued..
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