After releasing the ashes into the Ganges and making his vow, Varun stood for a long moment, the river's current swirling around him, the sounds of the ghats fading into a distant hum.
The setting sun had painted the sky with a final, fiery stroke, and now the darkness began to creep in, swallowing the vibrant colors of the day.
He waded back to the bank, his feet heavy with the weight of grief and resolve.
The city of Varanasi, with its constant cycle of life and death, seemed to hold its breath, a silent witness to his private ritual.
He stepped onto the shore, the damp earth clinging to his bare feet, and turned his back on the burning ghats, their flames flickering like restless spirits.
He returned to the inn, his movements slow and deliberate.
The small room, once a haven of rest, now felt like a temporary holding cell, a place to gather his strength before the next stage of his journey.
He lay on the simple cot, staring up at the dark ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of memories and plans.
He knew that the path ahead would be fraught with danger.
The British Raj, wounded and enraged, would be hunting him with ruthless efficiency.
The Muslim League, their power base shattered, would seek retribution. And there were others, unseen forces, whispers in the shadows, who had their own agendas.
He closed his eyes, visualizing the map of India, the intricate web of political alliances and simmering tensions.
He needed allies, information, resources. He needed to understand the forces at play, to anticipate their moves.
He needed to become more than a phantom, more than a force of destruction.
He needed to become a strategist, a leader, a force for change.
The city of Varanasi, with its ancient wisdom and its intimate connection to the cycle of existence, had given him a sense of clarity.
He understood that his vengeance, though justified, was not an end in itself. It was a catalyst, a means to an end.
He would use the fear he had instilled, the chaos he had created, to forge a new future for India, a future free from the shackles of oppression and violence.
He would begin in the north, where the echoes of the Raj's(British Raj) power still resonated strongest.
He would move like a shadow, gathering information, forging alliances, and preparing for the inevitable confrontation.
He would become a storm, a force of nature, and he would not rest until he had reshaped the destiny of the subcontinent.
As the first rays of dawn touched the ancient stones of Varanasi, Varun activated Daivik.
'Daivik,' he commanded, his voice low and urgent, 'access historical data. Where is Vinayak Damodar Savarkar currently located?'
Daivik's synthesized voice responded, cool and precise. 'Savarkar is under government surveillance in Bombay during this period.'
Varun's mind raced, formulating a plan. 'Savarkar,' he mused, 'a man of strong convictions, a powerful symbol.'
'He could be a valuable ally. We'll begin by rescuing him. It will serve as a powerful statement, a rallying cry.'
'After Savarkar,' he continued, his voice hardening, 'we move to locate Subhas Chandra Bose.'
'We must prevent his… untimely demise. His Indian National Army, combined with Savarkar's Hindu Mahasabha, could provide the foothold we need to navigate this treacherous landscape.'
He paused, visualizing the complex web of political intrigue. 'But we need more than just armies. We need information, intelligence.'
'Daivik,' he commanded, 'begin constructing a framework for an intelligence network.'
'We'll need to gather information, anticipate enemy movements, and counter their strategies.'
'And to communicate effectively across distances, we'll need to mass-produce walkie-talkies.'
'The technology existed in the 1940s, so we can replicate it here, and improve it. We'll equip our operatives with reliable, secure communication.'
'And we need resources. Weapons, gadgets, technology.'
'Begin designing production facilities. We'll equip the INA and the Hindu Mahasabha, and anyone else who will stand with us, with the tools they need to fight.'
'Specifically, we need to produce the AK-47.'
'Though it won't be invented for another two years, its simple design and devastating power make it ideal.
'We'll reverse-engineer its schematics and make it more deadlier through Daivik's assistance.'
'We'll equip our forces with the best, the most lethal, the most reliable assault rifle ever conceived.'
'We'll forge our own path,' Varun declared, his voice echoing with a newfound determination. 'We'll build our own army, our own intelligence, our own future. And we will reshape India, brick by bloodstained brick.