As my control and power expanded in Bihar over the regions of Aarah, Dinapur and Shahbad, I decided to expand our approach in little more aggressive ways.
There were many crucial rivers like Ganga, Son and many more.
The ports on these rivers served as a crucial economic support from Bengal regions.
One day, in dawn as we were returning from another successful British supply lines’ disruption in Shahbad, my eyes subconsciously lingered on the vast sky above me.
The blue sky once calm and peaceful, gave out a deafening roar of thunder and turned grey.
As the rain poured down from the sky, we took shelter in a nearby cave.
It was then, when I watched the raindrops hailing down the sky, an excellent idea struck me.
Soon as we all were inside the cave, I ordered every soldier to form a circle for a strategy meeting.
I said, my voice dead serious, “Today as I saw the rain falling from the sky, an idea struck me.
This is our chance!!!!!!!
We can encircle the water channels of Patna.
I know it will be tough, but it will give us an excellent advantage over the British.
We will strike Patna once and heavy.
I have all the necessary materials and requirements to make this plan successful.
The Ganges is their artery.
If we choke it between Patna and Bhagalpur, no supplies reach them from Calcutta.
Ram Singh, your men know the ghats.
We hit the river convoys at night.
Drones provide eyes, Kaala Naags do the rest.
We don’t need to capture Patna tomorrow.
We make them starve first.
All I want is your support and unwavering loyalty to me.
Abide by my words and I swear on the name of God, Patna will see the tomorrow’s sunrise free from the British.”
As I finished I raised my fist, in passion.
After a moment of silence, the crowd erupted in cheers and war cries.
We made an elaborate plan on how to take over the Patna port.
The next day was the same, due to heavy rainfall and strong wind, the water level had risen quite a lot.
But I ,with my few teams, entered the the Ganges waters in modern metal boats and ships.
As we sailed towards Patna, the nature desperately tried to break our courage.
Constant turbulent flow of the waters made many men sick.
A few were continuously throwing up.
Two other boats were hit so hard by water current that they turned over.
Fortunately, no one was killed.
It was night, by the time we reached Patna port.
We anchored the boats to nearby forest trees and slowly crept on the sea port ground.
Due to heavy and turbulent rainfall the security of the port was laxed.
I took advantage of the moment and positioned every team perfectly after the coastal guards.
As the night fell and grew darker, I mimicked the shrill cry of a peacock, a signal to start the raid.
Unknown to the British chief, assassins stuck out their palms from the shadows of the forest, gagging the officers and landed precise cuts at their throats.
Within seconds, all the British officers were dead, no sound, no commotion, no heavy war orders.
Just pure and cold strategic approach mixed with lethal precision and impact.
I ordered one of the members to look for Indian Sepoys at the port.
I managed them to switch sides, by providing them extra and generous perks.
Soon Patna Port was under the control of alliance.
I appointed a few British officers which I had left alive as dummies, so that the British won’t suspect anything.
As I carried one of them aboard on my vessel, I coldly told him to play along.
As he opened his mouth to speak, he felt the sharp point of jackknife blade pressed against his back.
His voice froze.
He nodded silently.
All others were too shocked and desparate to save their lives.
All of them agreed.
The raid had gone perfectly.
As my voice roared over the radio, small but efficient flotilla of boats landed at the ports of Son, Gandak and Punpun.
In Son, a large number of soldiers came out from the boats dressed in British uniforms.
They explained that they were stuck in the heavy rainfall and barely managed to reach here alive.
The Coastal Guards mistook and pitied them as one of themselves.
He allowed them to come in the sepoys’ barracks.
They easily slipped through the defense and British officers.
As the darkness and manual silence enveloped the port.
Three of the soldiers, secretly snuck out and made their move past the guards towards the large stockrooms.
Soon the Kaala Naags were on the move.
We divided the sepoys in three to four special teams.
They moved stealthily without any light as the lightning provided them with enough light to see the path ahead.
At the storehouses a after a few muffled shots from the tranquilizers and soon all the sepoys were sedated.
They were tied to large polls in the warehouses.
As the loud commotion of the storms covered the sound tracks. Get faster updates on g.com.
We successfully smuggled gunpowder, barrels of TNT and dynamites.
The assassins took up British uniforms and stealthily fixed the bombs at the right place.
Three of them were hidden in between the supply lines, almost twenty of the bombs were placed in the ammunition carts.
I personally placed four dynamites at each corner of the warehouse.
Just as I was going to push the lever down, an Indian Santri saw me.
“Are Are!!!!
What are you doing???
I have to call my superiors” Saying this he ran towards the British office.
But before he could reach the tower, a tranquilizer shot hit him from behind and he was intoxicated instantly.
We brought him tied his hands and tied him as well while Dal’s member took him outside at the corner of the port.
Soon after….
KABOOM!!!!!!!!!
A loud bang could be heard faintly in the deafening downpour.
Fortunately no one took notice of the sound.
The lightning also struck at the same time acting as an “icing on the cake.”
As we left the port in utter silence masking our any sound in the storm.
Large crimson flames could be seen emerging from the silos and the black soot of the fire merged with the back environment of the storm.
Back in the north west, with Bushahr now firmly aligned with the alliance and gifts of Kinnauri shawls and mountain horses loaded onto her procession, Begum Hqzrat Mahal turned her eyes towards the ancient and proud kingdom of Chamba lay ahead; a jewel among the hill states with warriors who could strengthen the League’s northern shield.
If she could bring Chamba into the fold, the hills would truly become a fortress against the British.
She gave the order: “Prepare the caravan.
Our next destination is Chamba.”
The royal court of Chamba was grand yet steeped in mountain austerity.
Raja Sri Singh sat on his throne, a dignified Rajput ruler with a cautious gaze.
He had already heard whispers of the League’s rapid gains in the hills.
Raja Sri Singh (measured, with a hint of wariness):
“Begum Sahiba, your fame travels faster than the mountain winds.
Kullu, Mandi, Bushahr you have been busy.
What brings the Lioness of Awadh to Chamba’s doors?”
Begum Hazrat Mahal stood with quiet grace, her voice calm but carrying the weight of conviction.
Begum Hazrat Mahal:
“Your Highness, I come not to beg for help, but to offer a hand between equals.
I have tasted the British ‘protection’ in Awadh, heavy taxes, our sons dragged to their wars, our honour treated as a footnote.
I see the same shadow falling across these proud hills.
Chamba has stood tall for centuries with its brave warriors and ancient temples.
Will it now bow as a mere tributary, or stand shoulder-to-shoulder with brothers who respect its sovereignty?”
She took a measured step forward, her tone turning persuasive and respectful.
Begum:
“The League offers what the British never will: true partnership.
Extend the Road of Fire through Chamba’s valleys; trade in wool, herbs, timber and horses will flourish, filling your treasury many times over.
We bring modern rifles and training that will make your soldiers unmatched in these passes.
We bring medicine that saves lives from fever and wounds.
And above all, a mutual defence pact ; if the British ever threaten Chamba, the combined strength of Jhansi, Awadh, Rajputana, Bihar, and the hills we have already secured will stand with you.”
Raja Sri Singh leaned forward slightly, clearly weighing her words against his existing ties with the British.
Raja Sri Singh:
“Bold promises.
But Chamba has its treaties.
Why risk British displeasure?”
Begum smiled , not triumphantly, but with genuine understanding and quiet fire.
Begum Hazrat Mahal:
“Because those treaties are chains disguised as protection, Your Highness.
The British grow weaker with every victory we win.
History will remember the rulers who clung to a fading empire… or those who helped build a free Hindustan.
Join us as an equal brother.
Keep your throne, your customs, your honour intact.
No tribute.
No interference.
Together, the hills become a fortress the Firangis cannot break.”
A thoughtful silence filled the court.
Raja Sri Singh studied her for a long moment, then a slow nod of respect came.
Raja Sri Singh (voice firm, with growing conviction):
“You speak with the wisdom of a seasoned ruler and the fire of a true Rajput ally, Begum Sahiba.
The League’s successes cannot be ignored.
Chamba shall join this alliance as an equal partner.
Let your instructors train our warriors.
May this union strengthen both our peoples against common foes.”
He clapped his hands.
Attendants brought forward ornate chests.
Raja Sri Singh (warmly):
“As a token of our new brotherhood, accept these gifts ; the finest Chamba rumals and shawls, rare Himalayan herbs and saffron, exquisite silver jewellery crafted by our artisans, and a pair of our renowned Chamba horses.
May they symbolise Chamba’s commitment to the League.”
Begum bowed her head gracefully, a satisfied smile touching her lips.
Begum Hazrat Mahal:
“Your wisdom honours us, Maharaja.
Chamba has chosen the path of strength and dignity.
The League welcomes you as a true pillar.
Together, we shall ensure no Firangi ever dictates the fate of these sacred hills again.”
As the Begum watched the Chamba horses being led into her procession, a soft chime came from the 21st century device at her hip.
A burst of static, then my voice, faint and weary, reporting the fall of Patna Port.
She looked toward the southern horizon, where the sky was still bruised with the smoke of my victory.
“The cage is shut, bhai,” she whispered.
“Now, let us see how the tigers fight when they are trapped.”
A telephone rang far way in Jhansi,
The rain had slowed to a steady, rhythmic thrum against the iron hull of the Goliath.
I stepped away from my men, moving to the edge of the deck where the only sounds were the rushing Ganges and the distant hiss of the cooling fires at the Son silos.
I pulled the tactical radio from my belt—a piece of the 21st century humming in a world of 19th-century shadows.
I keyed the mic, my voice dropping to a low, private tone.
“Guardian to Lotus.
Do you read me, Rani Sahiba?”
A second of static, then the channel bloomed with a familiar clarity.
Her voice was steady, but I could hear the underlying tension of someone who hadn’t slept in days.
Rani Lakshmi Bai: “Guardian.
I hear you.
The silence from the East was beginning to worry me.
Tell me has the river been kind to our cause?”
Me (Guardian): “The river did exactly what I told it to.
Patna is a ghost port now.
I’ve choked the Ganges between here and Bhagalpur; nothing gets through to the British from Calcutta.
We’ve turned their ‘Ganges Artery’ into a tourniquet.
And I just got word from the North the Begum has secured Chamba.
The mountain shield is up.”
There was a soft, sharp intake of breath over the line.
Rani Lakshmi Bai: “Chamba too?
You speak of these victories as if they were written in the stars, Guardian.
You have unified the rivers and the peaks while I am still reinforcing the walls of Jhansi.
You are doing more than just protecting the alliance; you are rewriting the fate of this land.”
Me : “That’s why they call me the Guardian, isn’t it?
But honestly, it’s a lot easier to fight these battles knowing what and who I’m coming back to.
Your dream is taking shape, Lakshmi.
The British are boxed in, and for the first time, they’re the ones who are afraid of the dark.”
I leaned my forehead against the cool metal of the railing, watching the mist swirl over the water.
Me : “But I have to admit, this ‘Guardian’ business is exhausting.
Once the last Redcoat is on a ship back to London, I’m planning on taking a very long leave of absence.
I was thinking…
maybe a quiet stroll through the palace gardens in Jhansi?
Just us.
No armor, no tactical reports, no ‘Guardian’ duties.
Just a walk.”
The silence on the other end stretched out, filled only by the soft crackle of the frequency.
Then, I heard it a faint, genuine laugh that made the humid Bihar air feel a little lighter.
Rani Lakshmi Bai: “You are a bold one, Guardian.
To bargain for my time while you are still covered in the soot of the Son warehouses.
But…” she paused, her voice softening just a fraction, “I suppose if you can manage to keep the British out of my gardens, I can manage to walk through them with you.
Do not be late, and more importantly…
do not get yourself killed.
I would hate to have to come to Bihar to rescue my own protector.”
Me: “I’ll hold you to that.
Stay safe, Lakshmi.
Guardian out.”
I clipped the radio back to my belt, a small grin tugging at my lips.