November 6, 2025
10:30 PM
PMO Office, New Delhi
The air inside the Prime Minister's Office was thick with the scent of strong coffee and the unspoken weight of national security. The long, mahogany conference table dominated the room, dimly lit by focused overhead lamps that cast harsh shadows on the faces of the occupants. Ten chairs, upholstered in deep emerald leather, were occupied by the most powerful, critical figures in the governance and defense of the Republic of India.
The attendees included: Suman Singh, the seasoned Defense Minister (DM); Rakesh Menon, the quiet but sharp Home Minister (HM); IB Chief Alok Sharma; RAW Chief Varun Rana; CDS (Chief of Defence Staff) Shivraj Kumar; General Ramu Swamy of the Indian Army; Admiral Vipin Chenak of the Indian Navy; and Air Marshal Anjali Dixit of the Air Force. Two seats, one at each end of the flanking rows, remained empty, perhaps as a silent reminder of the room's capacity, or perhaps for the ghosts of policy past.
At the head of the table, seated alone, was Prime Minister Maya Verma. A woman of immense political stature, she possessed a reputation for both unwavering integrity and strategic ruthlessness—a respected figure who had steered the nation through numerous crises. Standing beside her, the only man allowed to remain upright, was the National Security Advisor (NSA), Ashok Khurana, his face a mask of permanent vigilance.
This was a high-level, top-secret meeting, highly guarded, where the upcoming World Press Forum (WPF) interview in Mumbai—Dr. Rao's historical narrative—was the singular, critical topic. The historical tale had transcended mere academic interest; it had become a matter of national and global security, demanding immediate government action.
PM Maya Verma initiated the discussion, her voice clear and precise. "Defense Minister Suman Singh, what is the current progress regarding the naval deployments? We know that Dr. Rao's narrative is nearing a crucial point, and we must launch this operation as soon as possible."
Suman Singh, adjusting his posture, replied, "Yes, Madam Prime Minister. As we all know, the WAF operation is technically assisted by a multinational naval coalition. They have dispatched one naval ship each from the US, UK, Israel, Australia and China, all captained by senior officers or commodores. Most of them are scheduled to reach the designated zone in the Bay of Bengal—the coordinates provided by Mr. Vinkesh Rao—within the next nine hours."
He then looked to the man in the naval uniform. "Admiral Chenak, what is the readiness level and deployment status of our Navy?"
Admiral Vipin Chenak, a man whose gravity matched his rank, responded immediately. "Madam PM, we have already launched two naval destroyer-class ships from Visakhapatnam. They are moving at flank speed and will reach the designated West Bengal port area within a few hours. From there, they will proceed to the specific area of the Bay of Bengal that Mr. Rao and the WAF have marked for 'proof' investigation. However, we need one competent officer to lead this mission."
Maya Verma nodded, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. "Then everything is in place. Why the hesitation? Just send a senior officer there to coordinate."
CDS Shivraj Kumar leaned forward, his expression serious. "Madam, it's not as straightforward as it seems. Firstly, the weather in the Bay of Bengal this season is unpredictable, a chaotic mix of intense heat and cold currents. Secondly, this is a delicate diplomatic mission. We will be directing and coordinating five major international navies—the success or failure of which concerns our global reputation directly. We need someone who can communicate with the international naval officers and, crucially, interface with the local communities, perhaps even the fishing fleets, if required at any emergency."
Admiral Chenak supported the CDS. "Yes, Madam. Furthermore, most of our senior, battle-tested officers are currently on heavy duty across our maritime borders—Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Myanmar, and Bangladesh. We are highly vigilant there at this time, knowing that all eyes will be on India tomorrow during the global broadcast."
General Ramu Swamy and Air Marshal Dixit both nodded in confirmation of the widespread deployments towards the neighboring borders of India.
"Hmm," Maya Verma mused, leaning back. "We need a junior naval officer, yes, but one who is exceptionally competent, possesses strong character, and can command respect internationally. Who?"
General Swamy subtly caught Admiral Chenak's eye and gave a nearly imperceptible nod. The Admiral realized the General's intention.
"Madam Prime Minister," Admiral Chenak began, a flicker of pride in his eyes. "I know one. He is perhaps unconventional, but he is incredibly capable. He is Commander Sagar Mukherjee, a Bengal man. He has all the qualities you need—calm under pressure, sharp intellect, and a natural commander."
"Sagar?" Maya Verma repeated the name, filing it away instantly. "Mr. Ashok, can you bring up his file?"
NSA Ashok Khurana, who had been listening intently, immediately engaged a discreet AI projector built into the table. A high-resolution image flashed onto the screen: Commander Sagar Mukherjee. He was a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, with a fierce yet calm expression, a short, neatly trimmed beard, and stylishly cut hair. His eyes, in the picture, held an unnerving depth of clarity.
Ashok Khurana began reciting the profile, his voice clear and resonant. "Commander Sagar Mukherjee. Age 26. Graduated top of his class from the Naval Academy. Expertise in maritime intelligence and small-scale tactical deployments. Commended three times for unconventional yet successful disaster relief operations. He is known for his exemplary physical conditioning and quick decision-making in volatile environments. He is considered a rising star."
The seated ministers showed expressions of surprise at the young man's achievements.
Khurana hesitated momentarily, checking a footnote on the file, then continued, with a hint of reservation, "However, Madam, he is… sometimes known for his non-conformity. He once fought a Royal Bengal Tiger in the Sunderbans, chasing it off to protect a group of foreign eco-tourists. He sometimes makes calls that bypass established procedure. Right, Mr. Chenak?"
Admiral Chenak grinned, a rare sight. "Yes, but due to that very streak of unconventionality and audacity, he has consistently majored every operation he has been tasked with. At 26, he is a Commander, and I cannot think of a single other person who possesses the required competence, courage, and regional knowledge to lead this delicate international operation."
Maya Verma's eyes remained fixed on the young man's face on the screen. "Absolute. This is the man who needs to go and handle the coordination. Commander Mukherjee is exactly what the moment requires." She looked at the Admiral. "Mr. Chenak, if he is currently in Delhi, call him immediately and brief him on the national importance of this mission."
"He is, Madam PM. He is here for his father's health operation at AIIMS," Chenak confirmed, immediately rising and stepping aside to make the necessary, secure call.
A few tense minutes later, the door opened, and Sagar Mukherjee entered in his Naval uniform. He take out his uniform cap and immediately snapped to a sharp, respectful salute to everyone seated. It was his first time in the PMO, surrounded by the nation's political and military elite. He was visibly nervous for a fleeting moment, but his face quickly settled into the fierce-calm expression shown in his file. He knew only a major situation or a dire emergency would warrant a summons here.
Maya Verma directed the orders, outlining the sensitivity, the international coordination, and the national priority of the Bay of Bengal mission. Sagar listened intently, his eyes never leaving the Prime Minister.
Despite the fact that his father was recovering from a major surgery—a family emergency that had brought him to Delhi—Sagar Mukherjee accepted the mission immediately. It was a matter of national importance, a recognition of his ability, and a thrilling, career-defining opportunity. He saluted again, a sharp, crisp motion, and departed instantly to inform his family briefly and proceed to his destination in Bengal to take command of the naval ships.
Once Sagar was gone, Maya Verma turned her attention to the Chief of RAW. "Varun Rana, your assessment of the Commander?"
Rana, choosing his words slowly, replied, "Naturally, a good lad. His temperament is unique. The calmness he showed, even knowing the stakes and his personal situation, is astonishing. Despite the family emergency, he decided to go, as is expected of our Indian Navy's best. He has a bright future, Madam. From my viewpoint, his non-conformity is not a flaw, but a strength here. He can handle the unpredictability of the mission."
Admiral Chenak grinned again, clearly pleased with the praise. "Thank you, Chief Rana."
Maya Verma nodded, then addressed the IB Chief. "Mr. Sharma, your priority is domestic security. I want your best agents deployed to provide hidden security to Mr. Vinkesh Rao and the WPF team in Mumbai. No commotion, no visible presence. This must be done silently and effectively. We cannot afford any disturbance to the broadcast."
"Yes, Madam Prime Minister. It will be done," the IB Chief confirmed.
Maya Verma then turned her attention to the Home Minister. "Mr. Menon, maintaining absolute public order in Mumbai is now paramount. Given the global attention, some elements may try to cause commotion or disruption. Inform the Commissioner of Police immediately, and stress that there must be no mistake. Deploy additional quick-response teams from the CRPF across high-traffic areas—the airport, railways, and metro stations—to manage crowds discreetly. I need everything to appear completely normal."
The Home Minister responded promptly, his tone serious. "Yes, Madam, I will attend to this immediately. Anyone who makes a mistake or falters in their duty will face immediate suspension and investigation. Do not worry. The city will be under a shroud of calm."
Maya's gaze swept across the table once more. "I am informing you all again: maintain the highest level of vigilance across all your forces, whether visible or hidden. Our objective is to execute this flawlessly while ensuring the public doesn't catch a single whiff of the high-stakes operation underway. Normal life must be maintained. This mission is for the security and reputation of our country."
All the important figures present stood up instantly, saluted the Prime Minister, and collectively shouted, "Yes, Madam! We will do our best!"
After a few more minutes of discussing contingency plans—a discussion that quickly burned through another hour—the high-level meeting concluded. The important figures exchanged brief farewells and headed back into the late Delhi night to execute their respective duties. It was going to be a tough night for the defense and intelligence apparatus of the country.
Meanwhile, Commander Sagar Mukherjee, utilizing every available resource, had reached the Bengal port within a few hours. He was already aboard one of the naval destroyers, directing his men, meticulously scrutinizing the dispatch of the two Indian naval ships.
A small smile touched his lips. He was looking forward to this thrilling, high-stakes journey into the unknown depths of the Bay of Bengal. The mission that linked a historical epic, a world broadcast, and the future of global power had begun.
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Don't sweat on the names. I will refer them as like General, Admiral, etc. for ur convivence. Just added these to make it more realism. Enjoy it.