Chapter 4: "The Siege of Murshidabad"

Scene 1: The British Armada

Bay of Bengal – Dawn

The horizon darkened with the silhouettes of ships. HMS Victory, a 100-gun first-rate ship of the line, led the armada, its Union Jack snapping in the wind. Behind it, a fleet of frigates, sloops, and troop transports stretched as far as the eye could see.

On the deck of the Victory, Robert Clive adjusted his telescope, his lips curling into a grim smile. "Murshidabad will burn," he muttered. "And with it, Saifullah's delusions of grandeur."

A junior officer approached, saluting. "Sir, the landing parties are ready. We'll have 10,000 men ashore by nightfall."

Clive nodded. "Good. Tell the men to show no mercy. This is not just a war—it's a lesson."

Scene 2: The Nawab's Warning

Hazarduari Palace – Council Chamber

The news of the armada reached Saifullah in the dead of night. Laila burst into the council chamber, her face pale.

"Huzoor, the British are coming. A fleet larger than anything we've seen."

Saifullah rose, his expression unreadable. "How long?"

"Three days. Maybe less."

The room fell silent. Siraj was the first to speak. "We'll meet them at the river. Crush them before they land."

"No," Saifullah said. "We cannot match their firepower. We need a different strategy."

Ayesha stepped forward, her scholar's robe rustling. "What about the French? They promised ships."

"The French are unreliable," Saifullah replied. "We need allies who will fight for us, not their own interests."

Scene 3: The Maratha Proposal

Murshidabad – Guest Quarters

The Maratha envoy, Raghunath Rao, arrived with the dawn. A seasoned warrior with a reputation for cunning, he wasted no time on pleasantries.

"The British threaten us all," Raghunath said, his voice like gravel. "The Marathas will fight beside you—for a price."

Saifullah leaned forward. "What price?"

"Land. The territories west of the Hooghly. And a share of your arsenal's output."

Siraj slammed his fist on the table. "You're no better than the British!"

Saifullah raised a hand, silencing him. "We will consider your terms. But first, prove your worth. Help us repel the British, and we will discuss the future."

Raghunath smiled thinly. "A fair offer. We will fight."

Scene 4: The People's Army

Murshidabad – Training Grounds

The news of the British armada spread like wildfire. Farmers, weavers, and blacksmiths flocked to the training grounds, their faces set with determination.

Karim stood among them, his small frame dwarfed by the grown men around him. Laila had given him a musket, though it was nearly as tall as he was.

"You're too young to fight," a burly blacksmith grumbled.

"I'm not here to fight," Karim shot back. "I'm here to help. The Nawab needs everyone."

Nearby, Siraj oversaw the training, barking orders at the recruits. "Form ranks! Keep your shields up! And for Allah's sake, stop tripping over your own feet!"

Saifullah watched from a distance, his mind racing. These are not soldiers. They are farmers, craftsmen, fathers. But they are willing to fight for their future.

Ayesha approached, her scholar's robe replaced by a simple tunic. "The people believe in you," she said. "But belief alone won't win this war."

"I know," Saifullah replied. "That's why we need to be smarter. Stronger. And, if necessary, crueler."

Scene 5: The Iron Fist

Hazarduari Palace – Night

Saifullah sat alone in his study, the ledger of betrayals open before him. The names of the conspirators stared back at him, their crimes etched in ink.

Amrit Singh. Begum Fatima. Mir Jafar.

He dipped his quill in ink and began to write.

Decree No. 1: All lands and assets of traitors are hereby confiscated. Redistributed to the people of Bengal.

Decree No. 2: Any noble found conspiring with foreign powers will face immediate exile. Their families will be stripped of titles and privileges.

Decree No. 3: The establishment of the People's Council, composed of representatives from every village and trade guild. Their voices will guide Bengal's future.

As he signed the decrees, a knock interrupted him.

"Enter," Saifullah called.

Karim stepped inside, clutching a small bundle. "Huzoor, I found this in Mir Jafar's quarters."

Saifullah unwrapped the bundle. Inside was a letter, its seal broken.

*"To Mir Jafar,

The Company appreciates your loyalty. Await further instructions.

R. Clive."*

Saifullah's jaw tightened. "Thank you, Karim. You've done well."

As the boy left, Saifullah stared at the letter, his resolve hardening. No more mercy. No more half-measures. Bengal will survive, even if I must become a monster to save it.

Scene 6: The British Landing

Hooghly River – Dawn

The British armada descended upon the Hooghly like a swarm of locusts. Troops disembarked from their ships, their red coats stark against the muddy riverbanks. Cannon fire echoed across the water as the British bombarded the Bengali defenses, their superior firepower overwhelming the makeshift fortifications.

Saifullah watched from a hilltop, his telescope trained on the advancing forces. "They're moving faster than we anticipated," he muttered.

Siraj stood beside him, his scimitar already drawn. "Let me lead a charge. We'll cut them down before they reach the city."

"No," Saifullah said firmly. "We stick to the plan. Draw them in, then hit them where it hurts."

Scene 7: The Trap

Murshidabad Outskirts – Day

The British marched inland, their confidence growing with each unopposed step. But as they approached the outskirts of Murshidabad, the terrain shifted. The open fields gave way to dense forests and narrow paths, perfect for an ambush.

"Stay alert," Clive ordered, his voice tense. "These savages are cunning."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the first explosion rocked the ground. A hidden mine, planted by Bengali sappers, tore through the British ranks.

"Ambush!" a soldier shouted, but it was too late.

From the trees, Siraj led a contingent of Bengali cavalry, their curved blades flashing in the sunlight. The British formation crumbled under the sudden assault, their disciplined lines breaking into chaos.

Scene 8: The People's Resistance

Murshidabad – Streets

As the battle raged on the outskirts, the people of Murshidabad prepared for the worst. Barricades were erected in the streets, and women and children took up positions on rooftops, armed with whatever they could find—rocks, boiling oil, even farming tools.

Karim moved through the city, delivering messages and supplies. He paused at a barricade manned by Rahim, the blacksmith.

"How's it looking?" Karim asked.

Rahim wiped sweat from his brow. "We'll hold as long as we can. But if the British break through…"

"They won't," Karim said firmly. "The Nawab has a plan."

Scene 9: The French Betrayal

Hazarduari Palace – Council Chamber

The French envoy, Pierre Duval, stormed into the council chamber, his face flushed with anger. "You've gone too far, Saifullah! The British will crush you, and France will not risk its ships for a lost cause."

Saifullah rose, his expression icy. "Then leave. But know this: When the British turn their eyes to your colonies, do not come crawling back to me."

Duval hesitated, then turned on his heel and left.

Ayesha stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "We're on our own now."

"We always were," Saifullah replied.

Scene 10: The Nawab's Resolve

Hazarduari Palace – Balcony

As night fell, Saifullah stood on the palace balcony, the sounds of battle echoing in the distance. The city was alive with the glow of torches and the cries of the wounded.

Ayesha joined him, her presence a quiet comfort. "You've done everything you can."

"Have I?" Saifullah asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "The British will not stop. And neither will I."

Ayesha took his hand. "Then we fight. Together."

Below, the people of Bengal gathered in the courtyard, their voices rising in a chant.

"Nawab Saheb! Nawab Saheb!"

Saifullah closed his eyes, the chant echoing in his mind. This is my burden. My destiny. And I will bear it, no matter the cost.

Scene 11: The Maratha Charge

Murshidabad Outskirts – Night

The Maratha cavalry arrived under the cover of darkness, their war cries echoing through the forest. Raghunath Rao led the charge, his curved sword gleaming in the moonlight.

"For Bengal! For the Marathas!" he roared, his horse thundering toward the British lines.

The British, already disoriented by the earlier ambush, were caught off guard. The Maratha horsemen cut through their ranks like a scythe through wheat, their blades flashing in the firelight.

Siraj watched from a nearby hill, a grin spreading across his face. "Now that's how you fight!"

He signaled his own cavalry to join the fray, the combined forces of Bengal and the Marathas driving the British back toward the river.

Scene 12: The British Retreat

Hooghly River – Dawn

The British forces regrouped on the riverbanks, their numbers dwindling and their morale shattered. Clive stood on the deck of the HMS Victory, his face a mask of fury.

"Fall back!" he ordered. "We'll return with twice the men and burn this city to the ground!"

As the British ships retreated, the people of Murshidabad erupted in cheers. But Saifullah knew the victory was temporary.

"They'll be back," he said, his voice grim. "And next time, they'll come with everything they have."

Scene 13: The Aftermath

Murshidabad – Streets

The city was in ruins, but the spirit of its people remained unbroken. Karim moved through the streets, delivering food and water to the wounded.

"We did it," Rahim said, his voice filled with awe. "We beat the British."

"For now," Karim replied. "But the war isn't over."

Scene 14: The Nawab's Resolve

Hazarduari Palace – Council Chamber

Saifullah stood before his advisors, his expression steely. "We've won a battle, but the war is far from over. We need to prepare for the next attack."

Ayesha stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "We need allies. The Marathas have proven their worth, but we need more."

Saifullah nodded. "Send envoys to the Sikhs, the Rajputs, and the Afghans. We'll build a coalition that even the British can't defeat."

Scene 15: The Call for Allies

Hazarduari Palace – Council Chamber

The council chamber buzzed with activity as envoys from across the subcontinent gathered. Sikh warriors in turbans, Rajput princes in gleaming armor, and Afghan chieftains with weathered faces filled the room.

Saifullah stood at the head of the table, his presence commanding silence. "The British threaten us all," he began. "They seek to divide us, to conquer us piece by piece. But together, we can drive them back."

A Sikh chieftain, Jassa Singh, rose to his feet. "The British have taken our lands, our temples. We will fight beside you—but what do you offer in return?"

Saifullah's gaze was steady. "Freedom. A united India, where no foreign power dares to tread. And a share of Bengal's wealth, to rebuild what the British have destroyed."

The room erupted in murmurs of agreement.

Scene 16: The Afghan Arrival

Murshidabad – Outskirts

The Afghan warriors arrived with the first light of dawn, their horses kicking up clouds of dust. Their leader, Ahmad Shah, dismounted and approached Saifullah with a nod of respect.

"We have heard of your victories," Ahmad said. "And we have come to join your cause."

Saifullah clasped his hand. "Your strength is welcome. Together, we will teach the British the price of arrogance."

Scene 17: The Rajput Alliance

Hazarduari Palace – Gardens

The Rajput princes gathered in the palace gardens, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. Saifullah walked among them, his presence commanding respect.

"The British have taken our forts, our treasures," a Rajput prince said. "We will fight beside you—but we will not bow to you."

Saifullah nodded. "I ask for your swords, not your submission. Together, we will reclaim what is ours."

Scene 18: The People's Army

Murshidabad – Training Grounds

The training grounds were a hive of activity as warriors from across the subcontinent trained side by side. Sikhs practiced their archery, Rajputs honed their swordsmanship, and Afghans drilled their cavalry.

Karim moved among them, delivering messages and supplies. He paused to watch a group of Bengali recruits practicing with muskets, their faces set with determination.

"We'll be ready," Rahim said, his voice filled with confidence.

"We have to be," Karim replied. "The British won't give us another chance."