On the morning of December 14, 1947, the war between India and Pakistan had entered its final and most brutal phase.
For two days, the Indian Army had pushed forward relentlessly, capturing strategic locations that would alter the balance of power in the region forever. Gilgit-Baltistan had been secured.
Chitral, the last bastion of Pakistani control in the north, was about to fall.
Lahore and Multan were firmly under Indian control, and only Islamabad remained standing.
Major General Arjun Mehta stood at the edge of the battlefield, looking out over the smoke-filled valley.
The battle for Chitral had been fierce, with both sides suffering heavy losses, but the Indian forces had pushed through, their resolve bolstered by the clear and unyielding mandate from Prime Minister Rohan.
"General, the last of the Pakistani forces in Chitral have surrendered," Colonel Rao reported, his voice weary but filled with a sense of accomplishment. "We've secured the entire region."
Mehta allowed himself a brief smile. "Good. Secure the area, and make sure the civilians are protected. We've won the battle, but we need to maintain order."
As Mehta issued his final orders, he couldn't help but think of the long road that had led to this moment.
The seven days of fighting had been a whirlwind of victories and losses, but India had emerged victorious on nearly every front.
Now, with Chitral in hand, the most challenging part of the campaign was over.
While Mehta and his men secured the last of Gilgit-Baltistan, General Singh was overseeing the final stages of the siege of Lahore.
For days, his forces had surrounded the city, cutting off all supplies and isolating it from the rest of Pakistan.
The siege had been swift and brutal, with Indian artillery raining down on the city's defenses, leaving them crumbling.
As the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, General Singh received word from his frontline commanders that Lahore's defenses had collapsed.
Pakistani soldiers were retreating into the heart of the city, trying to regroup, but it was clear they couldn't hold out for much longer.
"Send in the troops," Singh ordered calmly, his eyes scanning the maps in front of him. "Take the city, but keep civilian casualties to a minimum. We're not here to destroy Lahore; we're here to liberate it."
As Indian soldiers flooded into the city, the resistance from Pakistani forces was sporadic.
Many had already fled, unable to withstand the overwhelming might of the Indian Army. Within hours, Lahore fell.
The city, a jewel of Pakistan, was now under Indian control.
Meanwhile, to the south, Colonel Sam forces had completed their siege of Multan.
The battle there had been equally intense, with Pakistan desperately trying to hold onto the city as a last line of defense.
But Sam's troops had advanced methodically, cutting off supply lines and wearing down the enemy's will to fight.
By midday, the Pakistani commanders in Multan had signaled their surrender.
The Indian flag was raised over the city, and the sounds of gunfire were replaced by the noise of military vehicles securing the streets.
Sam, standing in what had once been a Pakistani command post, took a deep breath.
The battle was over.
The world was watching in shock.
Within just ten days, India had not only repelled Pakistan's initial offensive but had launched a counterattack so decisive, so overwhelming, that it had changed the geopolitical landscape of the region.
Major cities were under siege, and the Pakistani military, caught off-guard by the sheer scale and speed of the Indian offensive, was in disarray.
But the war wasn't over yet.
Islamabad, Pakistan's capital, remained defiant.
Though surrounded by Indian forces, the city had not yet fallen.
General Mehta knew that capturing Islamabad would be the final blow, the one that would force Pakistan to the negotiating table.
As night fell on December 14, Mehta stood with his officers, reviewing the plans for the final assault on Islamabad.
The city was heavily fortified, and Mehta knew that the battle would be fierce.
But the Indian Army had momentum on its side, and Mehta was confident that victory was within reach.
"General," Colonel Rao said, interrupting his thoughts, "we've received word from Prime Minister Varma. He wants to speak with you directly."
Mehta took the radio from Rao, his heart pounding. "This is General Mehta," he said, his voice steady.
"Arjun," Rohan's voice crackled through the radio, "you've done an incredible job. Gilgit-Baltistan is ours, and the world is watching in awe. But now, it's time to finish this."
Mehta nodded, though he knew Rohan couldn't see him. "We're ready, Prime Minister. Islamabad will fall within the next 48 hours."
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Rohan spoke again, his voice filled with emotion. "When this is over, we'll have changed the course of history. You and your men have achieved something that will be remembered for generations. But we need to be cautious. The international community is putting pressure on us to end this war quickly. They don't want to see Islamabad burn."
Mehta understood. "We'll take the city, but we'll do it strategically. No unnecessary destruction. I'll make sure of it."
"Good," Rohan replied. "I'm counting on you."
As the conversation ended, Mehta turned to his officers. "Prepare the men for the final push. We take Islamabad, but we do it cleanly. This is about securing our future, not razing cities."
Back in New Delhi, Rohan stood by the window of his office, looking out over the quiet city. He had changed the course of history.
He had done what no one thought possible.
Neeraj entered the room, holding a bottle of whisky in one hand and two glasses in the other. "I think it's time for a celebration, don't you?"
Neeraj said, a rare smile crossing his face.
Rohan chuckled, taking the glass from Neeraj. "You're right. We've earned this."
They sat down together, the exhaustion of the past days settling in.
Rohan poured himself a glass, watching the amber liquid swirl in the glass before taking a sip.
The warmth spread through him, and for the first time in days, he allowed himself to relax.
"We've done it, Neeraj," Rohan said quietly, staring out at the night sky. "We've changed the future. Pakistan is on its knees, and Gilgit-Baltistan is ours. We've secured India's future."
Neeraj raised his glass. "To the future."
They drank in silence for a moment
The world would never be the same.
"You know," Rohan said, leaning back in his chair, "I always knew we could do it. But seeing it happen, seeing how quickly it all came together... it's overwhelming."
Neeraj nodded. "The generals, the soldiers... they all believed in your vision. They fought for it, and they made it a reality."
Rohan smiled, a rare moment of satisfaction washing over him. "This is just the beginning, Neeraj. We've changed the game, and now we're in control."
As the night wore on, Rohan and Neeraj continued to drink.
The sun had barely risen on the morning of December 16, 1947, but the city of Islamabad was already on the brink of collapse.
The sounds of war had filled the air for days, and after relentless fighting, Major General Arjun Mehta stood victorious at the gates of Pakistan's capital.
The Indian Army, having marched with precision and overwhelming force, had taken Islamabad.
At the same time, the strategic port city of Karachi and the city of Hyderabad had also fallen.
Pakistan was in ruins, its army shattered, and its people exhausted.
Rohan Varma, the Prime Minister of India, stood by his desk in Delhi as the final reports came in.
The war, which had erupted so suddenly, was now drawing to a close.
India had decisively won, capturing almost half of Pakistan's territory, including the vital region of Gilgit-Baltistan.
But with international pressure mounting from all sides, it was clear that continuing the war would invite unwanted chaos.
The phone on Rohan's desk rang sharply, breaking the silence of the room.
Neeraj Kumar, his most trusted advisor, answered it.
After a brief exchange, he turned to Rohan.
"It's done, Prime Minister," Neeraj said. "Islamabad has fallen. We now control all major Pakistani cities."
Rohan nodded slowly
Victory was theirs, but it was not the time to gloat.
The world's eyes were on India, and the international community, especially the United States and the Soviet Union, was growing increasingly restless.
Any further push could result in global chaos.
"It's time to call for a ceasefire," Rohan said decisively. "We've achieved what we set out to do. Now, we need to bring Pakistan to the table and dictate the terms of peace."
Neeraj nodded in agreement, already dialing the numbers to arrange the ceasefire talks. "I'll inform the generals and reach out to the international powers. We'll hold the talks here in Delhi."
"Yes," Rohan said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes distant. "And make sure Mohammad Ali Jinnah attends. I want him to see what he's lost."
The ceasefire negotiations were arranged within days.
Representatives from all the major world powers, including the United States, the Soviet Union, the United Kingdom, and France, had flown to Delhi to witness the talks.
Pakistan, now a nation on its knees, was forced to send its military officials and Mohammad Ali Jinnah, the founder and leader of Pakistan.
The room was grand, adorned with the flags of the attending nations.
The Indian delegation, led by Rohan Varma, sat at one end of the long table.
Opposite them sat the defeated Pakistani representatives, their faces pale and filled with a mix of resentment and resignation.
Jinnah sat at the center of the Pakistani group, his face ashen and sad
As the talks began
The representatives from the major powers observed carefully, their own interests at play.
But it was clear to everyone that the balance of power had shifted dramatically in India's favor.
Rohan opened the discussion, his voice calm but firm. "We are here today because India has achieved a decisive victory in this conflict. Pakistan is defeated, and the only reason Other cities in Pakistan still stands is because we chose to show restraint. Let us be clear, this war could have ended very differently."
He glanced at Jinnah, whose lips tightened into a thin line.
Rohan continued, "The terms of this ceasefire are simple. India will retain control of Gilgit-Baltistan, a region that rightfully belongs to us and has always been integral to our security. We will also discuss the status of the remaining territories under Pakistani control."
Jinnah, who had remained silent until now, leaned forward, his voice trembling with barely concealed anger. "You may have won this battle, Prime Minister Varma, but you cannot break the will of the Pakistani people. We will rebuild, and we will resist."
Rohan raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "You're in no position to make threats, Jinnah. Look around you. Your country is in shambles. Your military is defeated. You've lost everything except few remaining cities, and that's only because I chose not to turn them into a pile of rubble. This war was a disaster for Pakistan, and it's time you face that reality."
Jinnah's hands trembled, but he remained silent.
The humiliation was crushing. Just few months back they were part of India and called for Independence and today few months after Independence they are still here in India with half of their territories captured.
The international representatives watched the exchange with interest.
The British representative, Lord Mountbatten, cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation towards a resolution. "Prime Minister Varma, Pakistan has indeed suffered greatly, but as a representative of the international community, I urge India to show leniency. The world is watching, and further aggression could destabilize the entire region."
Rohan, unfazed, turned his attention to Mountbatten. "I understand the concerns of the international community, but India will not back down from securing what is rightfully ours. We have no interest in prolonging this conflict, but we will not be bullied into giving up territory that is essential for our security. Gilgit-Baltistan remains with India."
The Soviet representative, Ambassador Gromyko, nodded in agreement. "India's actions in Gilgit-Baltistan are justified. The region is of strategic importance, and given Pakistan's recent aggression, it's clear that India's control over this territory is a necessity for regional stability."
The Americans, led by Secretary of State George Marshall, remained cautious but supportive. "The United States supports a peaceful resolution to this conflict. We believe that India's position is strong, but we urge both sides to come to a diplomatic agreement that will ensure lasting peace."
The discussions continued for hours, with the Pakistani delegation growing more and more frustrated as it became clear that the international community was not willing to come to their defense.
India, having played its cards with precision, was now in full control of the negotiations.
As the talks neared their conclusion, Jinnah, visibly worn down, made one final plea. "Prime Minister Varma, surely there must be room for compromise. Pakistan cannot simply surrender half its territory without some concessions."
Rohan leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "Jinnah, you've already lost more than half your country. The only reason you still have Pakistan is because we allowed it. The international community may think they're forcing us to compromise, but I've already achieved what I wanted. Gilgit-Baltistan is ours, and Pakistan is in no position to demand anything more. You should consider yourself lucky that I'm not taking Lahore and Multan as well."
Jinnah's face twisted with humiliation, but he had no choice but to accept the terms.
India had won the war, and now it was dictating the peace.
With the ceasefire agreement signed, the war between India and Pakistan officially came to an end.
Gilgit-Baltistan was now firmly under Indian control, and the rest of Pakistan was left in shambles, its military humiliated and its leadership fractured.
Rohan Varma returned to his office in Delhi that evening.
Neeraj Kumar was already waiting for him, a bottle of whisky and two glasses on the table.
"It's over," Rohan said, sitting down heavily in his chair.
Neeraj poured them both a glass. "You did it, Sir, You've changed the course of history."
Rohan took a sip, the warmth of the whisky spreading through him. "I knew from the beginning that we could never hold all of Pakistan. But I also knew that Gilgit-Baltistan was the key. The world thinks they forced us to compromise, but in reality, we've won everything we wanted."
Neeraj smiled, raising his glass in a toast. "To victory."
Rohan clinked his glass against Neeraj's. "To victory."
As they drank, Rohan allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.
He had secured India's future, reshaped the region, and humiliated Pakistan on the world stage.
And he had done it all without the world realizing that this had been his plan from the very beginning.
The war was over, but the real work of building India's future was just beginning.