Washington, 8th March 1948
Three days later and four thousand miles away, Kelkar found himself in a very different kind of meeting.
The State Department building in Washington was filled with the energy of a nation at the height of its power, but the men across the table from him carried the weight of new global responsibilities that were proving more complex than anyone had anticipated.
Robert Lovett, the Under Secretary of State, cut an impressive figure—tall, silver-haired, with the bearing of a man accustomed to making decisions that affected millions of lives.
But Kelkar could see the fatigue around his eyes, the strain of managing America's expanding global commitments.
"Ambassador Austin speaks very highly of Prime Minister Mehra," Lovett began, referencing a folder before him. "Your initial proposals—especially about the Chinese situation have generated considerable discussion at the highest levels."
Kelkar nodded carefully. "The Prime Minister is deeply concerned about developments across our northern border. The civil war in China poses significant challenges for regional stability."
"Indeed," Lovett agreed, his voice dropping slightly. "We're particularly interested in your assessment of how the situation might develop."
"Prime Minister Mehra believes that democratic forces in the region require support," Kelkar said, choosing his words with precision.
"Should circumstances require it, India might be positioned to provide indirect assistance to those who share our values. And for this, our geographical position and our understanding of regional dynamics could prove valuable assets."
The room fell silent. Everyone understood they were discussing potential intervention in one of the world's most significant conflicts, even if the intervention is indirect.
Lovett set down his pen, his eyes meeting Kelkar's directly. "That's a significant preliminary proposal, Mr. Kelkar. One which would require the highest levels of coordination and trust."
"Indeed it is," Kelkar replied. "Which is precisely why such discussions must wait. Before we can contemplate such sensitive cooperation, we must first establish economic partnership and build the trust that deeper collaboration would require."
Having returned to a safer ground, Commerce Department official asked, "What do you propose then, Mr. Kelkar? How do we proceed ahead with this low-cost industrial hub for American companies that you speak of?"
Kelkar opened a different folder, his movements deliberate. "What we're proposing is a partnership that serves both our interests.
India requires rapid industrialization and development and America needs cost-effective manufacturing that maintains quality while expanding markets."
Lovett passed the proposal to Commerce Department official.
"The framework you've outlined about American raw materials being processed in India, and the finished goods returning to our markets—the cost projections would be remarkable. We're here to understand how this would actually function."
Kelkar had been waiting for this moment. He withdrew a different set of documents, these filled with production charts and cost analyses that had been made created by Arjun, along with some of the highly capable economists.
"Gentlemen, imagine if you could cut your manufacturing costs by wide margin while maintaining quality. Imagine if you could offer American consumers goods at prices that make your competitors irrelevant. That's what we're proposing."
He spread the charts across the table. "India can process American raw materials like cotton, copper, aluminum—into finished goods using our vast, trainable workforce. These products return back to American markets at costs no domestic manufacturer can match.
Your companies maintain high profit margins, and your consumers get better prices."
Lovett studied the numbers, his expression growing more interested. "This would require massive infrastructure investments on your end."
"Indeed. Which is where American expertise becomes invaluable. We need power plants—one of our highly anticipated project - the Bhakra-Nangal Dam alone could power half of our Punjab region.
Along with power plants, we would need agricultural technology to feed our growing industrial workforce.
We can send a portion of our skilled workforce to US for training in the respective areas while we build the technological base, and US can send the experts to guide our workers in India, during the structuring of that very base." Kelkar paused, allowing the implications to sink in.
"What we're offering isn't just a trade relationship. It's a partnership in building a modern industrial economy from the ground up."
The Commerce official was making rapid calculations on his notepad. "The market potential... the volume of trade we're discussing..."
"Is unparalleled," Kelkar finished. "Moreover, the profits will only increase once the India will have a properly developed industrial base."
And so, the talks went on for another hour, after which both delegations parted ways with a sense of mutual satisfaction.
Moscow, 11th March 1948
The Kremlin meeting rooms were a world away from the polished furniture of London or the modern efficiency of Washington. Here, beneath the onion domes and red stars, realpolitik wore a different face—blunter, more direct, but no less calculating.
Comrade Kuznetsov filled his chair like a force of nature, his broad frame and wrinkled face speaking of decades spent building the Soviet industrial machine.
Across from him, India's newly appointed Ministry of Industries & Supplies, T. T. Krishnamachari felt the weight of representing his nation.
"Your Prime Minister's steel production proposals intrigued our industrial planners, Minister." Kuznetsov began, consulting a thick file. "The concept of Soviet-designed complexes using Indian resources—our preliminary analysis suggests significant potential."
The Indian Minister nodded. "We appreciate Moscow's interest, Your Excellency. Today, let's refine the operational details of this partnership."
"Indeed," Kuznetsov agreed. "The raw material surveys you provided are impressive. Iron ore of exceptional quality, abundant coal reserves. But successful industrial cooperation requires more than resources—it also needs precise planning."
Krishnamachari nodded and opened his portfolio, revealing detailed geological surveys and industrial specifications.
"India possesses some of the world's richest iron ore deposits, vast coal reserves, and abundant limestone. What we lack is the expertise to transform these resources into the steel backbone of a modern nation. This is where Soviet experience becomes invaluable."
Kuznetsov's eyes sharpened as he studied the surveys. The quality of the ore samples was exceptional. And with this partnership, they could help the Soviet industrial machine for decades.
"We propose a partnership of mutual benefit," the Indian Minister continued.
"Soviet engineers design and build steel complexes to rival any in the world. Indian resources fuel these plants at cost. 20% of total production flows to Soviet needs for ten years at preferential rates. The remaining 80% builds Indian industry and infrastructure."
"And technical cooperation?" Kuznetsov asked, his tone suggesting this was a critical point.
"Extensive. Indian engineers train in Soviet institutes. Soviet specialists oversee plant construction and initial operations. We're not seeking charity, Your Excellency—we're seeking knowledge that we can adapt to Indian conditions."
The Soviet negotiator leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "Your Prime Minister spoke of non-alignment. Yet you sit here proposing intimate industrial cooperation. Quite contrasting, don't you think Minister?"
The Indian Minister smiled. "Non-alignment doesn't mean isolation, Your Excellency. It means choosing our partners based on mutual benefit rather than ideological compulsion.
The Soviet Union offers India what we need most—heavy industrial strength and technological independence. In return, India offers the Soviet Union what it needs—reliable resources and a stable partner in a volatile region."
He paused, then added quietly, "A strong, industrially independent India naturally aligns with Soviet principles of self-determination and resistance to Western imperialism. We don't need to sign treaties to share common interests."
Kuznetsov's laugh was rumbling and genuine. "You argue like a Georgian, Minister, thinking three moves ahead. Very well. Let's continue with the discussion of the specifics. But India must understand—we expect commitment. Industrial partnerships are not built on paper but on trust earned through delivery."
"That's true for both of the nations, Your Excellency. Prime Minister Mehra would expect nothing less," Krishnamachari replied.
"India's word, once given, is our bond."
Delhi, 18th March 1948
A week later, Kelkar and Krishnamachari stood once again in Arjun's office, watching the Prime Minister study reports from all three delegations. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft scratch of Arjun's pen as he made notes in the margins.
Within this one week, all three nations – US, Britain and USSR, had signed and finalized the deals.
Finally, Arjun looked up. "How was their reactions?"
"Better than hoped for," Kelkar replied.
"The British see salvation for their already overflowing industries. The Americans see a strategic opportunity disguised as trade, and The Soviets see reliable resources and a partner who speaks their language of industrial power."
"What about the costs?"
"Manageable, if we're careful about sequencing. The British arrangement provides immediate infrastructure help. The American partnership funds our technological and agriculture leap.
The Soviet collaboration gives us heavy industry independence like steel production. The work is expected to start by August of this year." Kelkar paused. "But juggling all three will require extraordinary diplomatic skill."
Arjun's smile was thin. "Then it's fortunate we're not bound by conventional diplomatic thinking."
After Kelkar departed, Arjun summoned Baldev Singh, the newly appointed head of the Ministry of Defence.
Baldev arrived within half an hour.
"Minister Baldev, please have a seat," Arjun said, gesturing toward the chair across his desk.
Baldev Singh took his place, posture firm and eyes steady — curious about what the young Prime Minister had summoned him for.
"We've secured control over a former British holding — the Chagos Islands," Arjun began, tapping a finger on a moderately sized patch in the middle of the Indian Ocean on the map spread across his desk.
Baldev leaned in slightly, studying the speck of land with quiet focus.
"They were of little value to the British," Arjun said. "Too isolated, no fresh water, and no natural resources worth extracting. Even as a coaling station, they were overlooked — too remote, too costly. So they kept them nominally under Mauritius."
He paused, then looked up at Baldev with a sharp glint in his eye.
"But to us, they're gold" Arjun said, his tone measured. "Right now, they may look like scattered, forgotten atolls — but location is everything. They sit almost equidistant from East Africa, the Persian Gulf, and Southeast Asia.
If we establish even a minimal presence there now, quietly, we'll have a foothold in the very centre of the Indian Ocean. Where no one else is watching — not yet."
He leaned back.
"I want a naval detachment dispatched — discreetly. No flags, no noise. Build the foundation for a forward outpost. A dock. A signal post. Maybe even a short airstrip if possible."
Baldev nodded slowly.
"We'll frame it as a soil research mission," Arjun added. "Volcanic composition — similar to parts of Lakshadweep. A scientific study team will accompany your men. Just enough of a story to keep the curious ones satisfied."
Then, with quiet finality, he added, "Let's secure these strategic waters before anyone else remembers it exists."
Outside, Delhi hummed with the energy of a nation in transformation.
It was the sound of a country that had found its voice in the world and was learning to use it with overwhelming effectiveness.