Mission Shengzhan: India Fights the Dragon

By Tuhin Sinha and Clark Prasad

Buckle Up & Strap Yourself In
Get ready to fire your Neurons!

How can you fight an invisible enemy?
An enemy who manipulates your subconscious mind!

The planet is hit by a pandemic. General Deng Jintao in Beijing has a plan to dominate and the key is India needs to fail. Over the years he has deployed the 3W Doctrine.
Control Public Opinion | Create Psychology Trauma | Use Legal Power
Now he unleashes an asset to bring India down.


Dr (Major) Vihan Swaraj, a rookie politician. His battles have moved from the border to corridors of power in Delhi.
…He needs to know who friend or foe is.

RAW Agent Udita Tandon, a covert field officer. She is crafty and driven by rage.
...She will make them pay.

Dr. Mouni Khan Chaudhary, an economist. She talks about out-of-control monetary policies.
…She is trapped in London.

Yanni Jacob, of Indian antecedents, is a Mossad trained assassin and tracking a terror group in Istanbul.
…He is running out of time.

India is now the target of the Global Deep State. In this rollercoaster politico-medico-espionage thriller that plays out across continents, can India pull off a coup against the biological Chernobyl and save humanity's future?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
• Release date: Jun 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9789354350337

Book preview

PROLOGUE

17 Hours after the Assassination

PODCAST

Namaste to anyone out there, who is still alive … alive or living – this is a question we all need to ask today .... But first, those hearing my podcast for the first time, you must be wondering who am I? I am … Shikari Sabu, a soldier of fortune … broadcasting from my … my underground bunker, my studio … and right now, I am on my … last ounce of strength .... But before I go to the other side, I want to share something ....

I want to share a story .... A story about the end of my world. Why do I need to tell … this story? For the future … because the survivors would want to know what happened. I will begin with one word – Pestilence.

Yes, pestilence, which means fatal epidemic disease, the word of the day, and of the weeks, months and years to come. And it is not only a word for India ... but for the whole planet.

Why?

As you all must be well aware ... the last few months have been hard … on me and everyone on the planet. A pandemic had hit the world … over the previous few months. It was called the great equaliser pandemic….

But first, I want to talk about an old pandemic .... Something which was called the … third great plague. Because that too is personal. Why is it personal?.... I will tell you later .... Later, if I live … long enough.

Let’s go a long time back … to see the first and second pandemics…. The first plague … came from Egypt to the Mediterranean … around the year 550AD and … lasted for around … 120 years. Many died .... Maybe millions.

The second one … the black death … in Europe. It spread from 1346 to 1353 … and killed over a billion. It started in China .... From the land of Mongolian attacks.

The criminal bacterium … in both these cases … was Yersinia pestis .... And it came back again to hit the world … the third time.

As the story goes … from what I heard from my grandparents who had heard it from their parents … the source of this pestilence was a ship which landed in Bombay in 1896. The ship had come from China … China. Did you know … 95 per cent of all global deaths of that plague … were in India?

I feel as if someone is going to … kill me soon … I am not ready to die now. I need to meet her. I need to know where she is. I need to achieve so much. As the prime minister rightly said … before dying … the future is achieved … not predicted. But we are in the endgame now.

What is at the end … World War III?

Now, let us see … how the old world ended … a few hours ago … on 15 August, when two leaders of the free world were assassinated.

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It all began in Wuhan ....

PRESENT

The arrow shot by the archer may or may not kill a single person. But stratagems devised by wise men can kill even babies in the womb.

Kautilya aka Chanakya

Arthashastra, sometime in 200 BCE

But what happens if stratagems are devised not by wise men, but by evil men… or worse, a group of evil souls.

9 months before The Incident

Sometime in November, 05:30 p.m.

Wuhan Tianhe International Airport, Wuhan

Hubei province, People’s Republic of China

‘Eat your ice cream, Qui. Your flight will leave in around 2 hours.’

‘Papa, I don’t want it. I don’t feel so good.’

The slightly paunchy, balding, middle-aged Wang Shu Chongxi stared at his daughter. It was the first time that she had refused ice cream. He wondered whether her impending travel was the reason for this sudden development. The cream started melting and dripping off his fingers, so he quickly began gulping it down.

‘Achoo!’ Wang Shu sneezed loudly as he finished the cone.

He and his family were long-term residents of Wuhan with more than ten generations residing there. They were of Hui ethnicity. Wang Shu currently worked as a security officer at the Wuhan Institute of Virology. Today was his day off. He was sending his only daughter Qui to London to stay with her aunt for the winter. Wang Shu carried his six-year-old daughter on his shoulders. With one hand, he held her, and with the other, he pulled her suitcase towards the airport.

He could see the towering Ming, Qui’s aunt, standing by the entrance. She was going to take his daughter to Italy first, and then London. Ming was a reporter with the Washington Post and focussed on health news. Based out of Milan, she travelled to India, Pakistan and other South Asian countries quite frequently. Today, she was travelling back to Italy, from her maternal home city of Wuhan. Both Ming and Qui would go to London from there.

Standing next to Ming was an air hostess from China Southern Airlines. Wang Shu held his daughter protectively and kept talking to her to ease her fears as they neared the gate.

‘Take your medicines on time.’

‘Yes, Papa.’

‘Be a good girl.’

‘Yes, Papa, I will be a good girl.’

‘And don’t worry, I will come soon.’

‘Why can’t I stay with you, Papa,’ Qui asked, once again.

‘No, my angel, you need to be with aunty Ming. You remember what you have to say to her?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘And you need to keep your hands off your aunty’s mobile and computer,’ he warned her in a mock-serious tone, tickling her. His daughter laughed heartily.

‘Yes, princess, always keep laughing,’ he said, lifting her and spinning her around gently. ‘It is wondrous that someone your age knows so much about technology. You are a gifted child, my little genius … A gift from the ancestors and all the gods in the world.’

‘I am a gifted princess … I am a gifted princess….’ She sang along.

He did not want her to leave, but they had said she had to. She was supposed to bring glory to their country.

I wish I didn’t have to lie to her. I wish I could tell her I am not her father. First, they told me to take care of her, then they asked me to send her away. I do not know if I will ever see her again. Do I go back on my word? Should I just take her and leave? No, I cannot. Ming will not let me.

Both father and daughter continued their walk till they reached the entrance of the airport. He embraced Ming warmly and nodded politely at the air hostess. After exchanging a few pleasantries, Wang started telling Ming about Qui’s medicines and her dietary requirements.

‘Wang, you have already told me this … numerous times! Don’t worry. I will take care of your daughter on the flight.’

‘I know you will,’ he said, a little sheepish. ‘You are strong and focused.’ After a small pause, he asked her, ‘By the way, any news from your Indian boyfriend. Will he join you in London?’

The air hostess, who had moved to the side, stared at Ming now. Ming gave her a gentle smile and shook her head. She turned back towards Wang, ‘You know he is not my boyfriend anymore.’

Wang nodded, ‘He is a big shot in India, isn’t he? A Member of Parliament or a minister or something like that?’

‘Yes, he is a big shot with a bigger head. But in time, he will realise what he is missing.’

‘Hmm, you are truly a dragon ... a dragon for the right reason. But don’t forget our orders.’

Ming smiled and hugged him. She whispered in his ears, ‘I remember them well. We will fulfil them together. And, the Party is always there for our support.’

Wang broke away and spoke softly, ‘Yes, they are always there. They gave me a child to take care of and she will remain my daughter always.’ Wang glanced at Qui who, in turn, was busy looking around her.

‘Goodbye, my friend.’

‘See you in London?’ Ming asked, holding on to Qui’s hands.

‘Yes, hopefully.’

‘Hope is what ties us together for the future.’

‘True, but it is not our future, but our children’s future,’ he said, stroking his daughter’s small head. He knelt and hugged his daughter tightly. After a long moment, he straightened back up. Wang and Qui kept looking at each other as Ming picked up the little girl in her arms. The father and daughter continued waving until Qui went inside the main airport building and was lost amidst the crowds. A lone tear flowed down his face and he wiped it with the back of his hand. He stood outside the airport, intending to wait till their flight took off. However, he started coughing insistently.

Feeling a slight chill. Maybe it is the flu – time for more frog-legs bat soup.

Wang drove out of the airport. As he was exiting on to a bridge connecting the highway, a speeding truck rammed his car from behind. Wang could not control the vehicle and it flipped over the edge of the bridge. Hurtling towards his imminent death, Wang thought of his adopted daughter, Qui. He shouted out her name, praying for her well-being.

Inside the airport, Ming received a video. She saw the recording of Wang’s car blowing up in flames, stone-faced.

Party over, Wang, party over. You were a coward, forming an attachment with the asset, but we march ahead to take over the world.

Ming smiled at Qui, stroking the little girl’s cheek.

Encrypted Chat between Two Continents

As-salamu alaykum.

Namaste.

When is the marriage?

It is soon.

Need to send a gift.

Who do I send it to?

Hue.

How do I reach her?

Contact [phone] Extension 8 x 6 times.

Has the target been identified?

Yes. He has been identified in Delhi.

Mission Shèngzhàn is a go.

Thanks.

Azadi is not far away.

Inform soon about the target.

Yes, we will.

Khuda Haafiz.

Over and out.

Extinction Countdown 00:00:05

Mystery Virus Country Impacted: China

Cases: Multiple | Deaths: Unknown

Mortality Rate: Unknown but Potentially High Per cent

228 days before The Incident

31 December, 11:17 a.m. IST

Indian Parliament, Delhi

India

‘The heartbeat of Indian democracy is its Sansad Bhavan or the Parliament House. The circular shape of the building signifies continuity. India or Bharat has been a seat of a continuous running civilisation throughout world history. From Vedic lands to the land of Lord Buddha and then to great emperors like Ashoka – great kingdoms have risen and fallen across centuries.’

‘There was the Mauryan Empire which covered modern-day Afghanistan as well as most of the current Indian region. It gave an agricultural economy and law edicts to the subcontinent. There were also the naval faring Cholas who spread culture, the Vijayanagar Kingdom which gave a wave of secular literature and enhanced the arts. Then, there were the Mughals who created the road system to control their vast empire along with other contributions in architecture. We cannot forget the Great Maratha Empire that built a great navy and kept alive the soul of India. But, it all fell with the rise of the East India Company and then, the British Empire.’

‘A century later, India became independent (or so many thought) from the British Empire … And we became a republic in 1950. Just think about the meaning of becoming a republic.’

‘Even though we had gained our independence, the struggle for independent thought, vision and a place on the world stage was still awaiting. So my fellow young minds, invest your time in your country instead of making or seeing videos in the Mimi-jinWu app.’

‘We need to become an active part of nation-building by asking questions and making our politicians accountable. Especially, supergene politicians. Nepotism is everywhere and if politics is family business, it is better they be good.... Hope our politicians defend and continue to protect our Constitution.’

‘I want to say a lot more, but I will stop now for my swaraj is still far away. This is Shikari Sabu signing off for today.’

This Shikari Sabu chap has a different kind of swag … he is some sort of hacker and lifestyle guru rolled into one. While he posts roast videos on his YouTube channel, he also has serious podcasts. He must be good with tech .... Well, his millions of followers are proof enough of his reach not only in the nation but also the planet.

Dr (Major) Vihan Swaraj wondered while listening to Sabu’s podcast about the Indian Parliament. Today was the last day of the year, but Parliament was functioning. The duty towards the country, of working and serving the nation never ends, and this thought was driven by the second-time prime minister, Shiv Patel, who was a part of the Patriot Party of India. It was the ex-army man’s first year as a parliamentarian. The thirty-four-year-old Member of Parliament from Indore was a media favourite as he had given a modern outlook to the nationalist party. His boyish charm also added to his appeal. He was driving to the Parliament which was within visible distance now.

He glanced in the rear-view mirror to check the traffic before making a turn. Instinctively, he ran his hand through his hair, closely cropped as they were.

I can’t believe I have already started losing hair. I think it comes with the job. 

His index finger rested near his temple, going over the scar near his right eye again and again. 

Balding with a gash on my face .... I can definitely try for an antagonist’s role.   

He laughed at his own joke. Standing at 5’ 11", the tanned and slightly bulky Vihan knew that he made for an intimidating figure. However, his luminous amber eyes and rounded chin added a bit of softness to the otherwise hardened angular features.   

‘You are no villain, Vihan… the scar adds to your allure.’

Udita’s words suddenly echoed in his ears, and along with them came a feeling of guilt or perhaps, it was remorse?  

Udita always said it like it was, no matter what. Now, I don’t even know if someone is praising me for me or because of my position. Udita ... she is not coming back, love might come still. But I don’t have time for all that. All my time is only for my country, my duty, and I cannot lose myself in such frivolous thoughts any more.     

He placed both his hands on the steering wheel firmly and focused back on the road. 

He continued to drive and pondered over what he had heard in the podcast earlier in the day.

Swaraj .... Is Shikari Sabu correct? In a way, yes. The youth of our country does not need more doses of hope, but ambition … the ambition to bring about a change. We, the youth and I, will together make that change. I will use my voice among the young to inspire and motivate them. I have never stopped working for my community, my village, and now I will continue to do so for my nation. Papa and mama and their guidance have always shown me the right path. Even though they are in the heavens now, I will keep their memory alive. Their blessings and prayers have always been with me, be it my village in Rangwasa, the battlefront with the Chinese on the eastern border, the various villages in Africa and now, even in the Parliament. But what’s next? Lord Surya knows and He will show me the right path at the right time.

The son of a priest in a village near Indore, Vihan excelled in academics. Since he wanted to be a doctor as well as serve his country, he became a doctor in the Indian Army. He completed his bachelor’s in medical education from AFMC, the Armed Forces Medical College in Pune. After passing out, he served for five years in active duty in the Eastern Command of the Indian Army. Vihan saw the snow-capped peaks in Arunachal Pradesh and Sikkim where he eye-balled with the Chinese troops. He was a part of the medical team during the guerrilla warfare on the jungle-clad hill tracts of Manipur, Mizoram and Tripura. He was honourably discharged at the rank of major for confidential reasons. Post-discharge, he completed a master’s degree course in infectious diseases from John Hopkins University in Baltimore, United States. Then, he spent the next three years travelling around various hotspot on the planet working with WHO as well as the Indian authorities.

‘You have reached your destination,’ said the automated voice of the GPS of his black Mahindra Scorpio.

Vihan parked his car in the designated spot, just behind the wall opposite Building Gate No. 1.

Just before getting out of the car, he stared at the dashboard. A small Indian flag was fluttering alongside the Eastern Command one. He looked in the rear-view mirror. It was an intelligent tech-based mirror that was also an LCD monitor. Currently, the visible view was of the rear of his vehicle based on a camera perched on the back of his car. He switched it back to the standard mirror setting. His glance wandered to the small scar beside the right eye once more.

General Deng Jintao, your ‘girl’ gave me this scar, but I would still like to thank you. I will be better prepared next time.

Vihan remembered the covert operation he had carried out inside Aksai Chin in the heart of Chinese occupied Kashmir. The mission was not exactly a success, but there had been no loss of life, just a loss of ego and the gain of a scar given by a Chinese female officer who directly worked with General Jintao.

For now, I will prepare my nation against the threat which people like you are. This is a new kind of war where the rules keep on changing. But we should not lose what we stand for, we need to keep our resolve firm.

He walked towards the Parliament complex.

My heart is lonely. Udita is lost, she does not want to meet me anymore. But life goes on. For now, my mind is only focussed on India and stopping these Leftist liberals. These Azadi protestors do not know the meaning of Bharat.

228 days before The Incident

31 December, around 04:30 p.m. IST

Jaffarabad, Delhi

India

‘Azadi .... Azadi .... Azadi!’

‘Humein chahiye Azadi!’

‘Azadi .... Azadi .... Azadi!’

A group of people were shouting in the open area of an underdeveloped part of the capital city. Their voices vibrated across this last day of the year. They continued to shout, following one of the most vocal organisers, Shadab Hussain. He continued screaming at the mike,

‘Humein chahiye azadi!

Gandhi wali azadi!

Nehru wali azadi!

Jinnah wali azadi!

UCC se azadi!’

The last sentence was a faux pas by Shadab and it left everybody hugely embarrassed. But one of his colleagues encouraged everyone to continue with the sloganeering, pretending all was well.

The government was planning to bring a bill proposing a Uniform Civil Code (UCC) in India, under which personal laws would be subsumed into public laws and made equal for all, irrespective of religion. The proposal, as expected, had led to a huge outcry from radical Islamist groups, who saw this move as an assault on their fundamental rights.

On this cold evening, impassioned loud rhythmic sloganeering filled the air. The glint of afternoon sun through the pale clouds was getting dimmer which was turning the atmosphere gloomy.

‘Azadi!’

‘Azadi!’

‘Azadi!’

The chants reverberated across the street where hundreds of protestors, mostly women and children, sat huddled. There were jute mats and open tents across the road. The chants grew louder, the winter weather did not seem to impact them. There were a few men, some were sitting and some were standing around. The group continued shouting ‘Azadi’ as reporters photographed them. Some reporters also mingled with the crowd talking with them.

Most of the protestors were from the community who resided near this location, but a few were new. Among the newcomers was a woman wearing a dark blue niqab. She was covered from head to toe and only her turquoise-green eyes were visible. She strolled into the protest area and started mingling with the few ladies who were wearing hijab and burqa.

‘As-salamu alaykum behen,’ one woman greeted her.

‘Wa alaykumu s-salam,’ she replied.

‘You look new? Where are you from?’ Another woman asked.

‘My name is Safa. I stay in RK Puram.’

‘Your accent is very south Indian,’ the first woman commented.

‘Yes, I am basically from Kozhikode in Kerala,’ Safa replied.

‘And what brings you here?’

‘Your determination.’ The women looked at each other as Safa continued, ‘It was high time we took to the streets. Earlier, it was only the CAA, but the day they introduce the UCC, we will be second-grade citizens. This bill will impinge our religious rights.’

Shadab overheard her from a distance. He was drawn to her sophisticated accent as well as her unusual green eyes. He nodded discreetly and one of the ladies took the lead and introduced Safa to the others.

‘What do you do?’ an old burqa-clad lady asked Safa.

‘I work as a risk analyst in an investment firm,’ she said and on seeing the blank look on many women’s faces, she went on to explain her profile. The ladies took some time to understand what Safa’s job entailed. When finally they could, albeit partially, one of them hugged her tight for joining them.

They exchanged some more details and after a few moments, the ladies were comfortable with this new woman joining their ranks. Safa noted her new surroundings and sat along with the other women to begin chanting.

‘Azadi .... Azadi .... Azadi!’  

An hour had passed and the sun was setting. Safa, by now, had befriended Shadab. She touched his arm lightly and asked for his mobile to make a phone call. She walked away and whispered into the phone, all the while aware of Shadab’s intent stare on her back.

‘I had to call Ammi. She gets worried when I don’t call in the evenings. My phone doesn’t seem to be working,’ she said, almost apologetically.

‘You should change your network,’ he replied with a smile.

‘It is an excellent way to keep in touch with you,’ she said, shyly, handing him his phone back.

Shadab seemed absolutely smitten with her. There was something both strange and attractive about Safa that made Shadab keep an eye on her. He studied Safa. Her long hair clumsily hung down. She had piercing green eyes, with a tinge of brown, set deep within her sockets. A tattoo on her neck, which he could not see clearly.

She looks so young .... She’s such a babyface. Maybe she can be recruited and be useful to me. Such a temptation .... But for now, I need to work hard against this fascist government and bring down the Parliament.

He looked at her and smiled. She smiled back. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and yelled with renewed vigour,

‘AZADIIIIII!’

‘AZADIIIIII!’

‘AZADIIIIII!’

227 days before The Incident

1 January, 00:17 a.m. IST

St Lucius Stephens Library

New Delhi, India

The musty and woody smell of books enveloped the library of this old British-era institution. The overstuffed bookshelves, and the solid wooden chairs and table gave a retro look to the vast space. Even though the college was closed for the winter break, a creaking sound could be heard as someone tiptoed across the wooden floor.

‘Aahhchoo!’ Someone sneezed. The sound echoed in the empty library.

‘Shhhhh! We are not supposed to be here,’ said the young man in a low voice.

‘Okay,’ whispered the girl, crinkling her nose.

They walked slowly, avoiding the lighted sections.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked softly.

In response, he stopped short and held her waist, snaking his hand inside her loose white jumper.

‘Oh my, your hand is cold,’ she giggled.

He smiled back and led her to the first floor of the library. She followed him, kissing his ears as they walked up. He took her to the corner between the shelves and settled down. He moved his right hand up the jumper once more to reach her black lace bralette.

‘What is your plan, Mr Big Glasses. Take them off.’

The young man removed his black-framed spectacles from his hooked nose using his left hand, reluctant to stop his right hand from exploring her smooth back. She looked at his face. She saw a small birthmark above his left eyebrow. It resembled the shape of a small trident. She placed her palms on either side of his face and looked straight into his light brown eyes. Gently, her fingers slid across his well-defined cheekbones and she touched his angled lips. She leaned in and planted a soft kiss.

‘You are so hot,’ he said, smirking.

‘I like your cool hands. Don’t stop, keep going,’ she whispered, nibbling his neck.

He paused suddenly and she pulled back. Their eyes locked into each other. He could see her one dark brow raised inquisitively. He bent forward and gently kissed her eyelids, ‘I like your brown eyes.’

She stared back at him and smiled, ‘I like your green eyes.’

‘Now since you have seen the library, you owe me one,’ said the young man leaning against one of the shelves.

‘Yup, I do. I like the look and feel of it,’ she said looking around.

‘Yeah, it’s nice. It has some nice materials regarding your course in Mandarin. Actually, I never knew the management did not allow students taking vocational courses to access the complete library.’

‘But now, you are there for me, right Mr Senior? Getting things done for me,’ she teased.

‘Thanks, babe. You have a gift for languages and I will do anything I can to help you. And,’ he said moving closer, ‘I love the sound of your voice, be it in English or Mandarin.’

‘Well, I can do many more things with my mouth than just talk in Mandarin,’ she stated matter-of-factly.

‘Accha? Like what?’ He said pulling her closer.

‘I can speak in