CHAPTER 80: CHAPTER 73: SEVERING THE STRINGS

Delhi – All India Radio Headquarters – December 22nd, 1948

The broadcasting studio felt different today. Technicians moved with extra care, checking microphones and sound levels twice. They understood the importance of what was about to happen.

In just two weeks, the Constituent Assembly would begin its final debates on India’s new Constitution. But today’s announcement would shape the country long before that document was signed.

Prime Minister Arjun Mehra stood behind the wooden podium. His hands rested calmly on the prepared speech. The red "ON AIR" light glowed above the door. Across India, millions of people gathered around radio sets in homes, tea stalls, and village squares.

His voice, when it came, was steady and clear. It was the voice of a man who had delivered victory after victory and now spoke with the full authority of a nation behind him.

"My fellow citizens of Bharat," he began, using the ancient name for India that carried deeper meaning than the colonial "India" ever could.

"For too long, our nation has been the recipient of assistance that, while often given with good intentions, has blurred the lines of true independence."

He paused, letting the words settle over his unseen audience. Outside the studio, stenographers furiously typed transcripts that would be rushed to newspapers within the hour.

"We have always welcomed foreign aid and humanitarian work, even before 1947, especially during times of crisis. But the time has come for India to claim its complete independence. Not just in government, but in how we develop our own country."

The core announcement came next, and it was delivered with the same authority that had marked all his major decisions.

"Therefore, starting immediately, the Government of India will implement a new policy regarding foreign organizations operating on our soil. All foreign missions and organizations that receive money directly from abroad will now be subject to this new directive.

Their current operations will cease. All international aid must now flow directly through the Government of India, or through state controlled agencies specifically designated for this purpose."

He had anticipated the criticism that would follow. He moved quickly to frame his decision in terms that would resonate with ordinary Indians.

"It needs to noted that this is not a rejection of international cooperation. But rather, it is an assertion of our ability to stand on our own feet. India, as a sovereign and unified nation, is fully capable of planning and executing its own development.

Our resources, our people, our vision. These are now strong enough to ensure that foreign assistance truly serves our national goals. We will make sure it is not diverted for purposes that serve other interests."

His voice grew stronger, more passionate. "We will ensure complete transparency and accountability for every rupee of foreign aid. By channeling all assistance through government bodies, we guarantee that it aligns with our national priorities.

We guarantee that it reaches the people who need it most. And also that it strengthens our own institutions rather than bypassing them."

The speech was building to its climax. Arjun’s voice carried the fervor of a man announcing a new Chapter in his nation’s history.

"This policy is about efficiency, about effectiveness, and above all, about India’s absolute sovereignty. We welcome friendship, just as we do with assistance. But it will be on our terms, under our complete control."

He concluded with words that would be remembered and quoted for decades to come.

"And so, with this step towards true self reliance, our nation builds its future from within, with dignity, and with an unwavering commitment to its own unique path. Jai Hind!"

The red light went off. Across India, people sat in stunned silence, trying to process what they had just heard. After all, very few people understood the significance and underlying meaning. For majority, it sounded more like a step towards uprooting yet another colonial cancer, not that they were wrong though.

Global Capitals – Days Following December 22nd, 1948

The reaction to Arjun’s announcement rippled across the world like stones thrown into a pond. The waves would reshape international relations for years to come.

Washington D.C.

In the White House, President Truman crumpled the transcript of Mehra’s speech and tossed it onto his desk. Secretary of State George Marshall sat across from him, his jaw tight with frustration.

"He’s cutting us off," Marshall said bluntly. "All our aid programs, our cultural missions, our ability to connect directly with the Indian people. Now it all has to go through Delhi’s bureaucracy. I doubt this is about efficiency, Mr. President.

This is more about control. Complete and absolute control."

Truman leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "What are our options?"

"Limited," Marshall admitted. "We can’t condemn India too harshly obviously. We need those deals with India, and we can’t appear aggressive to them, or else we might look like the ones who are carrying the colonial baggage. But we can’t just accept this either."

Within hours, carefully worded statements emerged from the State Department. They expressed "concern" about the impact on civil society and called for transparency in aid distribution. But the real response came through different channels.

Phone calls went out to editors at The New York Times and The Washington Post. These were not direct orders. Nothing so crude. They were gentle suggestions about editorial directions that might be worth exploring. Articles began appearing that questioned India’s commitment to "open society."

Opinion pieces wondered aloud what kind of democracy was really emerging in India. The questions were subtle, sophisticated, and designed to plant seeds of doubt without openly attacking Mehra.

"We can’t call him authoritarian," one senior official explained to a trusted journalist over lunch. "But we can ask whether policies like this really fit with democratic values, regardless of how they’re justified. And then let the public draw their own conclusions."

London

The British reaction was more complex. It was colored by decades of imperial history and the sting of India’s recent debt cancellation. Prime Minister Attlee sat in his study at Number 10, reading the speech transcript with a mixture of resignation and barely concealed irritation.

Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin paced by the fireplace. "Tch, he closes another door, doesn’t he?"

"Can we blame him?" Attlee asked quietly. "If we were in his position, wouldn’t we do the same?"

"That’s not the point," Bevin replied. "The point is that we’re being shut out of a country we spent two hundred years building. Our missionaries, our aid organizations, our cultural programs. All as good as gone."

The public response from Britain was intense. They criticized India’s decision like a parent criticizing their child. They did not acknowledge India’s sovereign right to determine its own policies.

Though such was the case, it was done while expressing hopes for continued "close partnership" through government to government channels.

Articles began appearing in The Times and The Daily Telegraph that questioned whether India’s new policies truly embraced the "Westminster spirit" of open institutions.

The pieces were carefully written, avoiding direct criticism while raising concerns about the "challenges of democracy" in newly independent nations.

The colonial undertones were subtle but unmistakable. The implication was that perhaps India wasn’t quite ready for full independence after all.

Paris

Foreign Minister Georges Bidault had never trusted Arjun Mehra, and this latest move confirmed his worst suspicions. "Heh, see that? The man is a control freak," he told his staff.

"He preaches democracy, then muzzles the very mechanisms that could provide genuine oversight. He tolerates no outside influence in his ’little kingdom’."

It was unknown whether it was out of spite that he called India a ’little kingdom’, or he genuinely believed it, even though it’s size was nearly 6 times the size of France.

France’s public statements aligned with general Western concerns, focusing on humanitarian principles and the importance of civil society.

The Vatican

Perhaps Vatican was one which had the most intense reaction.

Cardinal Giuseppe Pizzardo, Secretary of the Sacred Congregation for Extraordinary Ecclesiastical Affairs, read the transcript with growing alarm. Thousands of Catholic missions across India suddenly faced an uncertain future.

"This will severely impede our ability to serve the needy and minister to our faithful," he wrote in an urgent cable to the Pope. "We must consider this an attack on religious freedom and humanitarian charity."

Statements from religious bodies worldwide began decrying the ban. They expressed fears about the future of charitable work in India. These concerns were amplified through vast religious networks, painting India as increasingly hostile to religious outreach.

The narrative was building that India, despite its democratic rhetoric, was becoming intolerant of outside perspectives.

Moscow

The reaction in the Kremlin was decidedly different. Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov knocked on Stalin’s office door at precisely 3 PM. He carried a folder marked "URGENT: INDIA."

"Comrade General Secretary," Molotov said as he entered, "Mehra seems to have effectively closed India to Western ideological penetration. All foreign NGOs and missions are virtually banned. And all aid must flow through state channels. A rather highly effective method of control."

Stalin looked up from his desk. His face showed the first hint of approval he’d expressed regarding India in months. "Good. He is eliminating competition for state authority.

This confirms our assessment. He is a nationalist and a pragmatist, with complete focus on India. He does not curry favor with the West, or even with us."

He stood and walked to the large map of Asia that dominated one wall of his office. "His actions, while wrapped in conventional democratic rhetoric, objectively weaken the imperialist grip on India.

This will make our industrial cooperation more efficient, without interference from Western backed elements."

Stalin turned back to Molotov. "He builds his ’democracy,’ but he builds it with an iron fist. And an iron fist, Molotov, is a language we understand perfectly."

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As the days passed and the initial shock wore off, patterns began emerging in the global response. USA didn’t openly condemned India. The economic and strategic stakes were too high after all.

UK and Vatican were the sole nations which disapproved the move.

As for Europe, except for France, others were too busy with their own affairs to make any judgements in some far away country.

While that was the case, articles did appear that questioned India’s democratic credentials, mostly copying the trend of US and UK.

The message was subtle but consistent. India move didn’t seemed democratic.

Meanwhile, authoritarian governments from Moscow to Cairo watched with interest and, in some cases, admiration. Here was a leader who understood that in the modern world, controlling information and aid flows was just as important as controlling the territory.

Back in New Delhi

Arjun Mehra read the international press coverage with calm satisfaction. The Western powers were reacting exactly as he had predicted. They showed frustration masked as concern, with criticism disguised as worry about democratic values.

They could plant their subtle doubts and raise their sophisticated questions. It didn’t matter. By the time they realized what he was building, it would be far too late to stop him.

India was no longer a country that things happened to. It was becoming a country that made things happen. And the world, whether it liked it or not, would have to learn to deal with that reality.