Rising Tiger: A Thriller (16)

Despite having an uncle in the film industry who was convinced that he could make her a star, with her long legs and striking good looks, she chose to pursue a career of public service.

She believed in the promise of India. And while that promise was not perfect, she believed in both its power and its potential.

She had seen, firsthand, what education and hard work had done for her family. She wanted all families in India, regardless of their religion or caste, to have access to the same opportunities.

What they did with those opportunities was up to them. No nation-state or political philosophy could guarantee an equality of outcomes. People were simply far too different. Some were born with minds for mathematics and science, others for literature and the arts. Some were predisposed to alcoholism and addiction, while others were blessed with a capacity for entrepreneurship. The greatest thing India could do for its people was to keep the playing field as level as possible and work tirelessly to see to it that everyone was following the rules. After that, it was up to the individual to succeed based on their talent and hard work.

Of course, there would always be those who, because of infirmity or just bad luck, would require more help. The family who loses their house in a flood. The child born with debilitating mental or physical liabilities. The mother or father who is earnest and struggling to find work.

Asha had watched in awe growing up as families and communities had rallied around such people in need. She understood, however, that sometimes the need was greater than what one’s extended family or community could provide. She believed that the state had a role to fill in these rare instances.

Her father had called her his “little idealist.” Her mother had called her a “brave and powerful realist.” Both parents had believed she was destined to do good and noble things for the people of India. Neither would have ever expected it would be in the realm of espionage.

In fact, had you put the possibility to her as she had begun her studies at the Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration—India’s preeminent institute for civil service training—she would have squinted at you with her dusty brown eyes, her mouth would have turned up into a radiant smile, and she would have laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of it all.

But that, of course, was if you had asked her at the beginning. By the time Asha was ready to graduate, she had developed a much more nuanced view of India, its promise, and what was necessary to preserve it.

Lal Bahadur Shastri was a prime recruiting ground for RAW. It not only had agents posing as students; it also had multiple professors and teaching assistants who functioned as talent scouts, seeking out the best and brightest potential candidates.

Through their embedded proxies, RAW also ran a subtle, ongoing information campaign.

It was important that tomorrow’s civil servants understood their responsibilities not only to the governmental organizations they would be serving, but also to India and its citizens. They needed to understand the threats the country faced and the importance of combatting malign foreign influence.

Having secured its independence from the British in 1947, when it was separated into two dominions—Hindu-majority India and Muslim-majority Pakistan—India was less than one hundred years old. In that period, however, it had gone to war five times—once with its neighbor China and four times with its other significant neighbor, Pakistan.

Similar in many ways to Israel, India lived under a constant state of threat, both from outside its borders, as well as from a wide range of terrorist organizations operating within.

During her studies at Lal Bahadur Shastri, Asha’s eyes had been opened and her priorities more keenly focused. She realized that if India itself was not zealously protected, its promise would cease to exist—for everyone. The opportunities for education, prosperity, and advancement that her family had enjoyed depended upon India remaining strong and free. In the aftermath of the three days of terror attacks across Mumbai that had killed 171 people, she had known what she needed to do.

Upon her graduation, RAW had given her one day to celebrate with her family. After that, it was time to get to work. The real work.

Her parents and siblings had thought she was undergoing training and would ultimately be placed in the Indian Administrative Service, focusing on governmental policy. She had not been allowed to inform them that she was employed by RAW or to discuss any of the operations she would ever be involved in. As far as her family was concerned, she was a busy civil servant up north in New Delhi.

Her training was brutal—both physically and psychologically. She had been told how tough it was and had done her best to get herself into peak condition, but nothing could have prepared her for what she experienced—especially when it came to her instructors.

Ironically, the female instructors turned out to be much tougher on her than the men, and she learned on day one that “sisterhood” wasn’t something that existed in RAW training.

The lead drill instructor—an unattractive woman, who reeked of body odor—seemed to have it out for her and rode her day and night.

That was fine by Asha. She hadn’t signed up to make friends. She had signed up to defend India.

With four older brothers and a somewhat vindictive older sister, she was no stranger to being picked on. Instructors being “tough” wasn’t something she objected to. What she couldn’t abide was unnecessary cruelty.

The woman undercounted Asha’s pull-ups and push-ups, lied about her obstacle course performance, and falsified her run times. It was as if the instructor was trying to get her to drop out. That, however, wasn’t going to happen. Asha simply bit her tongue and redoubled her efforts.