Reborn In 17th century India with Black Technology - Chapter 1153

Capítulo 1153: WW1: Preparations

5th September 1698

Two months passed by in the blink of an eye, and the final preparations for the war were underway.

Dozens of large boats were seen docked at the port of Vishakhapatnam. While such a scene would not attract any attention on normal days, today was not a normal day. Out of all the boats, it was not the merchants or the coolies getting down carrying goods. Instead, it was young military men, all dressed in different military uniforms, with different flags representing different kingdoms.

Sumit Chatur, disembarking from the boat and setting foot on the land of Bharat after 17 long years, could not help but feel emotional. In a daze, Sumit vaguely remembered how he was crying with snot and tears when he was 7 years old, as his parents decided to move to Vidyanagari for development. His memory was very vague and blurry, but he could still remember that he was very reluctant to let go of his friends. He even remembered promising a close friend of his, whose face had completely become blurry, about how they would be joining the same high school together, but it looked like fate had different ideas for him.

In the blink of an eye, seventeen years passed, and Vidyanagari, the place he never wanted to go, had become his entire world. Now, finally grown up, he returned to the distant homeland that he had lived only in his memory. The moment he set foot in Bharat, emotion welled up within him. Even though he had not touched this soil for more than a decade, and even though he had felt no particular attachment to it when he was away, the instant he arrived, a quiet connection stirred inside him. It was an unspoken understanding that this was the land that had given birth to saints, warriors, and even divine beings he had learned about, and, above all, the land that had given birth to the Bharatiya civilisation.

So even though he couldn’t remember much about this original home, or even though he didn’t have many memories about it apart from those of childhood, he felt like he had entered the home of his grandmother, who was so kind and dear, who looked at him with fondness and a loving gaze.

Sumit, filled with relief, bent down, touched the soil, and brought his hand to his temple as he paid respect to the homeland of the Bharatiya civilisation.

“Privates, line up!”

The sergeant called out, and Sumit immediately adjusted his backpack and fell into formation along with the rest of the privates.

Sumit stood in the position of attention for almost 20 minutes until they were eventually led to a railway station.

As soon as he disembarked from the boat, Sumit was so lost in thought that he did not get a chance to look around at his surroundings, but now that he did, he felt amazed. Although he could identify several similarities between the port and even further into the city, to his home city of Vidyanagari, the Bharatiya Empire itself seemed to be on a whole new level, or was it only the city of Vishakhapatnam that was like this? He asked himself, but either way, he was extremely shocked and left in awe.

As his group marched through the main road of the city, he could not help but be taken aback by the height of the buildings that seemed to touch the sky. By his rough estimates alone, he saw at least twenty to thirty high-rise buildings over ten storeys tall. Back in his home, even in the capital, the total number of buildings that high would only be that much, but in the Empire, a single city had already surpassed that number.

What’s more, he was shocked by the way the roads were paved. Out of all the things he thought that he would be surprised by, he did not expect roads to be one of them, because even back in Vidyanagari, the national highways and the major roads were paved with either cement or tar. He did not think the Bharatiya Empire would be any different, but he was sorely mistaken. The roads here were paved with flipping rocks, clean-cut triangular rocks.

Feeling the rough texture and odd patterns beneath his feet as he walked made him realise that each stone was laid with precision, each one fitted by human hands.

“How much did this cost?” he could not help but wonder. Of course, there were many other things he had expected to be surprised by, and they did not disappoint: murals and statues appearing every few streets, water fountains, public parks, greenery interwoven throughout the city, and the people. No matter how rich or poor, all were dressed with dignity and elegance, and none of it escaped his notice. Even though he had heard about life in the mainland while he was back home, he had dismissed it as an exaggeration. Now, seeing everything firsthand, he realised how true those stories were.

“Alert!! Privates, the elder of the Visakhapatnam Panchayat has arranged a greeting ceremony for all of you, so put on your best performance.”

Sumit was jolted awake by the sergeant’s commands, and, like the others, he immediately fell into a rigid military march. Mere seconds after the order was given, the soldiers who had been walking casually transformed into a single unit, a single piece of machinery, all moving in perfect unison. Their formation was so precise that, if not for the differences in height, one might think it was a single line of soldiers advancing, rather than an entire battalion of eight hundred men marching as one.

As the 3rd battalion of which Sumit was part of approached the railway station, the vague sound of drums and people cheering was heard. Although Sumit kept his face stiff, a small smirk betrayed his true emotions: excitement. He joined the army a few years ago in order to serve his kingdom, which he loved, but the other reason was to be respected and to be looked at with envy. So when he was about to be welcomed by the people of the Bharatiya Empire, which, for him, who was from a vassal kingdom of the Bharatiya Empire, was like a country boy getting cheered and appreciated by the city folk, it gave a boost to his self-esteem, making him feel validated.

Soon enough, flowers of all kinds began to rain down upon him as he marched forward without turning his head. He could not look directly at the people lining the streets, but he could hear their cheers and heartfelt wishes for his good fortune. Amid the crowd, the excited shouts of children rang out, their laughter and clapping unmistakable as they hurled handfuls of flowers with all their strength. From the corner of his eye, he even caught fleeting glimpses of the admiration reflected on their faces.

Till this point, a smile that was only a smirk had widened and become a full-blown grin.

As they got to the railway station, their march halted, and he saw an elderly man adorning his sergeant with a flower garland, a vermilion sindhoor, and handing him a saffron flag.

The next moment, the women stepped out of the perimeter and came closer to the soldiers.

Sumit watched with quiet curiosity as a young woman, about his age, stepped forward with a warm smile. In her hands was a plate with a deepam burning steadily upon it. She gently circled it around his head a few times, then dipped her finger into vermilion powder and marked his temple with it. Passing the plate to whom he assumed was her younger brother, she lifted a flower garland and placed it around his neck. A moment later, she produced a small flag and offered it to him. Almost like a puppet guided by invisible strings, Sumit instinctively accepted it and realised it was the flag of Hanuman, a sacred banner meant to bring auspicious fortune in times of conflict.

“May Anjani Putra protect you, and may you return victorious,” she said. Her voice rang like a bell, soothing and gentle, and it made Sumit’s heart flutter. His throat tightened, as though words had lodged themselves there, refusing to come out. In the end, all he managed was a hesitant, “Tha, thank you.”

The very next moment, his embarrassment deepened when the woman laughed softly, her tone cheerful, before turning and walking away.

Sumit’s face instantly reddened, looking like a ripe tomato. Seeing this, his fellow squadmates could not help but tease him relentlessly. Left with no choice, he put on an annoyed expression and stopped responding to them. Yet even as he stepped into the railway station, the image of the woman lingered in his mind, refusing to fade. ‘I didn’t even ask her name,’ he thought to himself, unable to help it.

In the end, he boarded the train and began his journey toward the west coast, where a military transport ship awaited him, ready to carry him onward to war.

Sumit was only one among tens of thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands, of troops converging within the empire from across the east, from ASEAN, from the vassal states of Southeast Asia, and from Suvarnadvipa. Powered by the vast, efficient transportation network of the Bharatiya Empire, this colossal movement of men unfolded with astonishing speed, as if the machinery of the empire had been set into motion long before any of them realised it.

P.S. Thank you, Maggie329, for the IceCola

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