A New India

April 1953, The early morning stillness in New Delhi was very different from the storm of activity taking place a thousand kilometers away in the desert.

In Pokhran, preparations were already underway, months of work beginning to take form.

Rohan had spent countless hours developing the framework for the National Security Guard (NSG), and now the real challenge loomed ahead: recruiting and training a force that could secure the nation's future.

It wasn't just about training soldiers; it was about preparing them for a world Rohan understood far more easily than anyone in the room, though none could ever know why.

From his office window, Rohan could see the city waking up. He turned back to his desk, where Neeraj sat with the final list of recruits spread out before him.

They had been at this for hours, but neither man showed any signs of slowing down.

"These are the best men we could find," Neeraj said, his voice holding a note of hesitation. "But they've never seen anything like the training you've planned."

Rohan nodded, his thoughts elsewhere. "They'll have to be ready." His tone was calm,

"The threats we're preparing for are unlike anything they've faced before."

Neeraj frowned and glanced up from the papers. "You keep saying that, Sir, What exactly are we preparing for? We are ready for insurgencies, this isn't t new. What's different now?"

Rohan leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly. "The lines are blurring, Neeraj. Between war and peace. Between soldiers and terrorists. Technology is evolving, ideology is evolving. The enemies we'll face aren't like the ones we know.

They won't wear uniforms. They won't fight on battlefields. They'll strike in shadows, in cities, in places we think are safe. And we need to be ready for that."

Neeraj sat back, thinking about Rohan's words. There was something in the way Rohan spoke, as if he were pulling from a deeper well of knowledge.

Neeraj had always trusted his instincts, but there was a weight to Rohan's words today that made him uneasy.

He looked back down at the list of names, the best of India's military, police, and intelligence agencies.

These men were battle-hardened veterans, but even Neeraj wasn't sure if they were ready for what Rohan had in mind.

"I just hope they can handle it," Neeraj muttered, his fingers tapping the edge of the paper. "This training… it's going to push them to the limit."

"They don't have a choice," Rohan said quietly. "Because if they can't handle it here, they'll never survive out there."

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Colonel Arvind Singh stepped into the office.

"Prime Minister," Colonel Singh greeted, nodding at Rohan, then glancing at Neeraj. "The first group of recruits is arriving at Pokhran. The selected fifty as per the list are best of military, intelligence, and police backgrounds. All with experience in special operations."

Rohan stood and walked to the window, looking out over the city as the Colonel spoke.

The isolation of Pokhran, the harsh desert, the unforgiving terrain, it was all part of the plan.

These men weren't just going to be trained. They were going to be transformed.

"How confident are you in these men, Colonel?" Rohan asked, not turning around.

Singh hesitated. That wasn't like him. "They're the best we've got," he said finally. "But this training... it's different from anything we've done before. We've included psychological stress tests, live intelligence feeds.

These men will be pushed to their breaking points. Some might not make it."

Rohan turned and looked at Singh, his expression unreadable. "Good. I need to know who will break."

Neeraj shifted uncomfortably, but he didn't speak. He had seen Rohan's standards rise over the past few months.

Neeraj understood that Rohan was preparing for something far bigger than anyone else realized, but how far was he willing to push these men to be ready for it? And was it really necessary?

"The world is changing, Colonel," Rohan said, stepping closer. "This isn't about dealing with today's threats. It's about the ones we can't even see yet, the ones just over the horizon. The NSG has to be more than an elite force. It has to be adaptable, smart, and relentless. They can't hesitate.

They can't fail. Because out there, mistakes cost lives. We won't have the luxury of learning from them in the field."

Singh nodded, his jaw tight. "We'll push them. Harder than they've ever been pushed."

Rohan's expression softened, but his resolve didn't waver. "Push them beyond their limits, Colonel. Only the strongest can carry the weight of being an NSG Commando."

---

A week later, the desert wind howled as the first batch of recruits arrived in Pokhran.

Fifty men stepped out of the trucks, their faces hardened by years of service, but even they paused for a moment as they took in the barren, hostile landscape.

Each man knew this would be no ordinary training.

Colonel Singh stood before them, his voice sharp and commanding as he addressed the recruits. "You've been selected because you're the best. But understand this, being the best doesn't guarantee you'll make it through. This training will test you in ways you've never experienced. Some of you will break. Some of you will fail."

The men stood at attention, but many of them shifted slightly, glancing at one another. They had all seen combat, some had survived things that would break most men, but there was something in Singh's voice.

This was different. This wasn't just about surviving another mission.

Colonel Singh's voice carried over the wind again. "You'll be trained in close-quarters combat, urban warfare, explosives, and decision-making under crisis. But this isn't just about physical strength. You'll face mental stress like never before. Your ability to think under pressure will determine if you succeed. And your success will determine if others live or die."

The men exchanged looks, a silent understanding passing between them.

They knew endurance.

They knew pain.

But it was the mental tests, the constant stress, that made a few of them nervous. A couple of hardened soldiers clenched their fists, jaws tight.

Others stared straight ahead, their expressions unreadable.

The training began that afternoon. Days blurred together as the recruits were pushed to their physical and mental limits.

They ran through the desert under the punishing sun, learned to navigate complex urban warfare scenarios, and disarmed explosives with shaking hands.

But it wasn't the physical toll that wore them down. It was the psychological pressure. Every decision had to be made in seconds. Lives, real or simulated, depended on it.

Some men faltered. They hesitated. And in this training, hesitation was failure.

One night, after an especially grueling exercise that saw three recruits pulled from the field, Colonel Singh gathered the men around a fire.

The desert was dark, the wind carrying away the day's heat, leaving a sharp chill in the air.

The recruits were exhausted, mentally, physically, emotionally, but they sat silently as Singh spoke.

"This training isn't just about getting through the program," Singh said, his voice quiet but firm. "It's about preparing you for the worst situations you'll ever face. Terrorists, insurgents, foreign agents, they're evolving. They don't fight by the rules you know. And if you break here, if you hesitate, you'll break in the field. And when that happens, people die."

The men sat in silence, Some stared into the flames, lost in their thoughts. Others looked out at the endless expanse of desert, wondering how they would make it through the next day, let alone the entire training.

Back in New Delhi, Rohan received daily updates from Colonel Singh. The reports were detailed but Rohan didn't need the numbers or statistics.

He knew what was happening. Men were being broken down and rebuilt. The strongest among them were rising to the top, the ones who could bear the weight of what was coming.

The process was slow, brutal, but it was necessary.

Rohan sat back in his chair, staring out at the city. The world was changing. The threats they faced were still years away, but they were coming.

And when they arrived, the NSG would be ready. Rohan had no illusions about the cost of what he was asking for, but he knew the alternative being unprepared was far worse.

The foundation was being laid, one soldier at a time. Each decision, each challenge, was shaping them into something more than they had been before.

Something sharper, stronger, and, most importantly, adaptable to a world that wasn't bound by rules anymore.

In a few years, the world would change. Terrorists would evolve, weapons would advance, and technology would rewrite the battlefield.

But when that time came, India wouldn't be caught off guard. The NSG would be the tip of the spear, ready to meet any threat, known or unknown.

Rohan turned away from the window, his mind already on the future. The road ahead was long and uncertain, but they were ready to walk it.

The nation's security, its survival, was being built right now in the desert heat of Pokhran.

And soon, the world would know what it meant to face the National Security Guard.

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