CHAPTER 79: CHAPTER 72: SHAPING THE NARRATIVE

Delhi – Prime Minister’s Office, South Block – 21st December 1948

The same afternoon, heavy wooden door to Arjun Mehra’s office swung open with barely a sound. C. Rajagopalachari stepped inside, with his crisp white khadi kurta.

At seventy, Rajaji moved with the careful dignity of a man who had spent decades navigating the treacherous waters of Indian politics.

His appointment as Minister of Information & Broadcasting had surprised many, but Arjun knew exactly why he needed this particular man for this particular job.

Rajaji’s weathered face barely showed any emotion as he approached the Arjun’s desk. The urgent summons like this told him that this would be no ordinary meeting.

"Rajaji," Arjun said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

The older man settled into his seat, adjusting his glasses. "When the Prime Minister calls with such urgency, one doesn’t delay. But what exactly has happened?"

Arjun leaned back in his chair, studying the man who would help shape India’s story for generations to come.

"Nothing too serious. Just that...I think it’s time we close those small windows that enables the foreign hands to interfere with India’s internal matters. Ture independence from the external manipulations.

Not just from the British, not just politically, but from all foreign influence that threatens to dilute our national purpose."

Rajaji waited, eager to know what this young Prime Minister was talking about.

"I will be passing the law that implements complete ban on foreign missions and NGOs.", Arjun spoke, letting the words settle down.

Arjun continued. "I’ll personally announce them tomorrow. But that’s only the beginning, Rajaji. I needed to speak with you for what comes immediately afterwards."

He stood and walked to the window overlooking the government complex.

"These organizations," Arjun continued, "some of them come here with noble intentions, I’m sure. They want to help the poor, educate children, provide medical care. But then, there are those who come here with ulterior motives.

To slowly create an environment that supports the outside ideology and questions the one of their own nation. And the longer this goes on, the more lethal it becomes to the unity of the people."

Rajaji nodded slowly. "The independence argument is compelling. But the international reaction will be severe. These organizations have powerful supporters."

"Let them be," Arjun said, turning back to face his minister. "India is strong enough now to weather their displeasure. Moreover, it’s our land. We decide the rules here. And if we tell them get out, they would have no other option, regardless of their supporters."

He returned to his desk and sat down, his expression growing more serious. "But there’s something else, Rajaji. Something that will happen before the new parliamentary session begins on January 5th."

The minister paused, sensing the shift in tone.

"There will be an incident in Calcutta," Arjun said quietly. "Involving a foreign national. Mother Teresa."

The name hit Rajaji like a physical blow. His usually composed features registered shock, and then of subtle understanding. He had not survived fifty years in politics by being naive about the dark secrets of the governance.

But it still didn’t make sense. Why her?

Rajaji leaned forward, his academic curiosity overriding his initial shock. "What kind of incident?"

"An accident," Arjun said simply. "Tragic, unexpected, but...completely accidental."

"Prime Minister," he said after a long pause, "that woman is... she has become a symbol. Not just in India, but worldwide. The Pope knows her personally. The international press treats her like a living saint. So...Can you tell me why?"

"Because she isn’t what she seems to be," Arjun replied. "She is no saint, Rajaji, just wearing a mask of one. Even if maybe she is, then she is with a hidden agendas that dangerous to us as a nation.

And given her popularity, it requires the most careful handling. When news of the incident breaks, it must be managed with absolute precision. No room for speculation, no opportunity for alternative narratives."

He opened a file on his desk and pulled out several documents. "And so, these will be your task, Rajaji."

Rajagopalachari studied the documents Arjun gave him.

"First, the immediate response. The moment news breaks, our National Publicity Unit issues a statement expressing the government’s profound grief.

We emphasize her decades of service to Calcutta’s poor, her dedication to the suffering souls, and her love for India. We declare a day of mourning. We can also offer to arrange for a state funeral if the International reaction is too heavy, though I don’t think it will reach to that point."

Rajaji was taking mental notes now, his experienced mind grasping the elegant brutality of the plan. "The Vatican will most certainly want to investigate."

"Yes, but we won’t allow them. We’ll frame it as questioning India’s sovereignty and interfering in the places that they aren’t supposed to." Arjun replied. "Instead, our investigation agencies will provide them all the ’proof’ that they might need."

"And if there are questions? Suspicions?"

Arjun’s expression hardened. "Then we express outrage that anyone would suggest foul play. We point out that such speculation dishonors the memory of a woman who gave everything for others.

We use the cover that foreign governments and media are more interested in creating controversy than in honoring a life of service."

Arjun stood again, pacing as he continued. "But that’s only the immediate response. The larger opportunity lies in connecting this tragedy to our broader message about India’s future."

"How so?"

"Think about it, Rajaji. Here’s a foreign woman who came to India decades ago to serve our people. She saw needs that our colonial government couldn’t or wouldn’t address. She filled gaps that existed because we weren’t in control of our own destiny."

Understanding dawned in the minister’s eyes as he spoke, "And now...we are in control."

"Exactly. Her death becomes a symbol of transition. The era when India needed foreign charity is ending. The era when we provide for our own people through our own institutions is beginning."

Arjun returned to his desk and pulled out more documents. "The NGO ban fits perfectly into this narrative. We’re not rejecting foreign assistance, rather we’re insisting that all aid flows through proper channels, through accountable institutions, through systems that answer to the Indian people."

"National dignity," Rajaji murmured, seeing the full picture now.

"National dignity and practical efficiency," Arjun confirmed. "We’ll emphasize that scattered, uncoordinated foreign aid often duplicates efforts or works at cross-purposes. A centralized system ensures resources reach those who need them most."

The minister was fully engaged now, his initial moral qualms overwhelmed by professional admiration for the strategy’s sophistication. "The timing is perfect. Public mood is confident after our military successes. People are ready to believe India can handle its own problems."

"More than ready, eager," Arjun said. "They want to believe we’re strong enough to stand alone. They want to feel proud of what we’ve accomplished. This gives them that opportunity."

He sat back down, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "But here’s the most critical part, Rajaji.

Your immediate task will be to ensure that the press narrative clearly and repeatedly separates the unfortunate incident in Calcutta from our new policy regarding foreign NGOs. International media will try to link them together, to paint a picture of some coordinated conspiracy."

Rajaji nodded, understanding the delicate balance required.

"Two distinct narratives," Rajaji murmured, making notes. "The personal tragedy of a devoted woman, and the policy decisions of a maturing nation."

"The narrative must feel natural," Rajaji continued, thinking through the implementation. "Not like propaganda, but like the organic expression of national sentiment."

"That’s why I need you," Arjun replied. "Anyone can write press releases. But creating a story that feels true, that resonates with people’s deepest beliefs about themselves and their country, that requires an artist."

The two men sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their conspiracy settling between them.

"What about the parliamentary session?" Rajaji asked finally.

"No mention of Teresa. She’s won’t the subject of discuss in our parliament. The condolences will be enough."

They’ll, however, discuss about the new law that bans the foreign missions and NGOs. Just some minor questions and concern, and finally, endorse it."

Rajaji closed his notebook and stood. "When do we begin?"

"You begin tomorrow, just after my announcement." Arjun replied. "Draft the initial statements, prepare the press guidance, coordinate with the National Publicity Unit. Make sure everything is ready and in place."

After Rajaji left, Arjun remained at his desk, staring out at the government complex.

These are all just the beginnings. There are still many things that remains to be done, to achieve the vision Arjun has set for India.