A New India

The sun was beginning to set over the bustling streets of Kathmandu as Priya walked in a nondescript tea house.

The chatter of traders and monks mingled with the distant sound of temple bells.

She adjusted her scarf to shield her face partially from the cool Himalayan breeze, her eyes scanning the street discreetly as she entered.

Inside, the air was warm and thick with the scent of spiced tea.

The tea house was quiet, save for a few patrons speaking in hushed tones.

Priya spotted her contact a middle-aged man in a worn gray coat seated at a corner table, his posture relaxed but his eyes constantly moving.

He went by the alias "Tenzing," though Priya knew his real name was Lobsang, a former Tibetan monk turned underground operative.

"Tenzing," she greeted softly as she slid into the seat opposite him, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Priya," he replied with a faint smile, his Tibetan accent thick but his tone steady. "You're punctual. That's a good sign."

She leaned forward, keeping her voice low. "What's the situation on the ground? How are the resistance groups holding up?"

Tenzing's expression darkened slightly. "The resistance is growing, but so is the Chinese grip. They've increased patrols along the borders and are watching the monasteries closely. Many monks have gone into hiding, and those who remain are under constant surveillance."

"Are they still receptive to outside support?" Priya asked.

"They need it more than ever," Tenzing replied. "The Chinese are targeting cultural institutions, cutting off supplies to rural areas, and spreading propaganda that paints the resistance as agents of Western imperialism. The people are holding on, but barely."

Priya slid a small envelope across the table.

Inside were the details of funding and resources that would be funneled through neutral NGOs.

"This will help. Use it to organize gatherings around the Losar festival. Let them know they're not alone."

Tenzing nodded, slipping the envelope into his coat. "It's risky, but it'll mean the world to them. The Losar festival is sacred it's the perfect time to remind them of their identity."

Meanwhile, in the high-altitude town of Nagqu, Arjun and two local operatives dressed as traders unloaded goods from a mule cart.

The bustling market square was teeming with activity, a perfect cover for their operation.

Hidden among the sacks of rice and spices were high-powered binoculars and maps marked with key infrastructure points.

Arjun motioned to one of his operatives, a young Nepali man named Dorje, to keep an eye on the perimeter.

Then he turned to the other, an older Tibetan named Pasang, who had an intimate knowledge of the region.

"Pasang, the supply depot is two kilometers east of here, correct?" Arjun asked, keeping his voice low.

"Yes," Pasang replied. "It's heavily guarded, but the guards change shifts at dawn and dusk. That's when their defenses are weakest."

Arjun glanced at the fading light. "We'll scout it at dusk. If it's too risky, we'll stick to observing from a distance."

Pasang nodded. "There's a ridge overlooking the depot. It's the best vantage point, but you'll need to be careful. The Chinese patrols have been unpredictable lately."

Later that evening, as the market quieted down, Arjun and Pasang made their way to the ridge under the cover of darkness.

Using the binoculars, Arjun observed the depot: rows of supply trucks, stacks of construction materials, and armed guards patrolling the perimeter.

"Fuel depots on the west side," Arjun murmured, jotting down notes. "Maintenance shed near the center. That's where they're repairing equipment."

Pasang pointed to a group of tents near the trucks. "Those are likely barracks for the guards. If we disrupt the depot, their entire operation here will slow down."

"Not yet," Arjun said. "We're here to gather intelligence, not act. Let's keep moving."

In a cramped room in Kathmandu, Karan sat at a desk cluttered with radios and decoding equipment.

The faint noise of intercepted broadcasts filled the air as he meticulously logged every detail.

The Chinese transmissions were repetitive but revealing: troop movements, supply orders, and propaganda slogans meant to pacify the Tibetan population.

"Base 14 reporting increased resistance activity in sector three," a garbled voice crackled through the speakers.

Karan adjusted the frequency, isolating the signal.

He scribbled in his notebook. "Sector three… must be near Lhasa. Resistance must be picking up activity there."

Suddenly, another voice cut through, this one smoother and more deliberate a propaganda broadcast. "The people of Tibet are thriving under the modernization efforts of the People's Republic of China. Infrastructure projects like the Lhasa-Xigazê railway are bringing prosperity to all."

Karan smirked, muttering to himself, "Thriving? Tell that to the farmers losing their land."

He flagged the transmission and sent a coded message to Priya. "Propaganda on Lhasa-Xigazê railway. Monitor for local sentiment."

Farther north, near the border with Bhutan, Sudhir met with a group of Tibetan exiles in a secluded monastery.

The air was cold and thin, and the sound of prayer wheels spinning echoed softly in the background.

The exiles were cautious but determined, their leader, a grizzled man named Tashi, speaking on behalf of the group.

"The Panchen Lama's actions are dividing our people," Tashi said, his voice tinged with frustration. "Many still respect him, but they don't see how closely he's working with Beijing."

Sudhir nodded. "We've noticed. That's why it's important to emphasize the Dalai Lama's vision of a united Tibet. Beijing will try to use this division to their advantage, but if we act now, we can counter their narrative."

Tashi leaned forward, his gaze intense. "What do you suggest?"

"We suggest framing the Panchen Lama's actions as betrayal not through direct accusations, but through questions," Sudhir explained. "Let the people start to wonder if he's truly acting in their best interests."

Tashi hesitated, then nodded. "It's risky, but it could work. The people are already questioning Beijing's motives."

Back at headquarters, Rao listened intently as the operatives subordinates reported their progress.

Everything was going smoothly for now.