March 20, 1990 — Prime Minister's Office, New Delhi
The sunlight streamed across the PMO balcony, casting long shadows over Aryan's desk. He sat motionless, fingers interlaced, eyes on the phone.
The President's call had confirmed it: Industrial Licensing Amendment Bill — signed into law.
Aryan exhaled once and called out, "Hitesh!"
His Chief of Staff appeared within seconds.
"Tell Minister Ramesh to call a press conference. Today. The nation deserves to know."
Hitesh's eyes widened.
"The bill passed?"
Aryan nodded.
"No more waiting rooms. India is open."
Later that Afternoon — Press Conference, Doordarshan Studio
Minister Ramesh Verma stood in front of a sea of microphones, sweat on his brow but resolve in his voice.
"My fellow citizens…"
"From this day forward, you no longer need to beg for permission to build your dreams. The Industrial Licensing Amendment Bill has passed — by Parliament, and by the President."
"For 40 years, we've made you wait. Stand in queues. Prove your worth before even starting."
"But not anymore."
"No more harassment. No more endless files. Just one application — one window — one answer."
"Factories will no longer be trapped behind red tape. India is now a country where innovation is legal. Building is legal. Growing is legal."
"From today, we have changed from job seekers... to job creators."
The nation was listening.
Prime Minister Aryan Steps Up
He took the podium. The room went quiet. The media leaned forward.
"For too long, we've trained our children to play safe, to stay small, to wait for someone else to fix things."
"But India wasn't built by those who waited."
"Today, I say this as your Prime Minister — if you dare to build a village, we'll lay the road. If you build a factory, we'll bring you schools and hospitals."
"If you put lamps on the road, we'll deliver the electricity."
"If you invest in the lives of the poor — in their health, education, dignity — you'll receive 100% tax exemption for five years."
"This is not a subsidy. This is a nation-building partnership."
"We're not just asking you to invest in business. We're asking you to invest in India's soul."
"We're 800 million people strong. And every single one of them carries an idea."
"If you have an idea, we have a place for it."
"If you have nothing, we'll still stand with you — because from now on, India will rise with its people, not above them."
He stepped back, and the silence broke into applause that echoed across cities, towns, and villages.
That Night — All India Radio Broadcast
Radios buzzed across dorm rooms, tea shops, truck cabins, and village squares.
In a college dorm in Kanpur, engineering students sat with mouths open.
"Did he say... no license? Even for electronics?"
One of them stood up.
"I'm going home tomorrow. If this is real, I'm opening my jute processing plant."
Another slapped his back.
"Then I'm opening my sensor manufacturing unit. Moisture tech — version 2.0."
A third said, "I was planning to go to America. But... for the first time, I feel like India wants to invent."
In a Tea Shop in Pune
A retired soldier, a farmer, an unemployed youth, and a small trader sat around the radio.
The veteran tapped the newspaper.
"Five years of tax relief if we build clinics in backward districts? If this had happened ten years ago, half my battalion would've had better care."
The trader said,
"I run a chili drying unit. Tomorrow, I'm filing for land in Satara. We'll build a school beside the unit."
The farmer raised his cup.
"And my son will study there."
In Surat — Two Textile Brothers
"If we set up in Navsari and build a school and clinic... full exemption for five years," one whispered.
"Let's do it," the other nodded. "Let our name be on the school gate."
In Dusiya Village, Chhattisgarh
A single radio crackled in the courtyard. Villagers gathered close, silent.
An old man wiped tears.
"If this came ten years ago... maybe my son wouldn't have died in another state, looking for work."
A village schoolteacher said,
"If they open a factory here... I can finally get real books for my students."
A boy tugged his father's sleeve.
"Baba! If they build a school, I'll become like Kalam!"
The father smiled.
"Then the factory must come here first, little one."
Across the Border
Western media called it "over-ambitious," "naive," "another wave of Indian optimism."
But investors in Singapore, UAE, and London thought otherwise. A new fax arrived at the External Affairs desk:
"Please schedule exploratory delegation for industrial zones in Tamil Nadu, Maharashtra, Gujarat."
Aryan's plan was working.
Back in the PMO — Late Night
Aryan returned from the studio, weary but smiling.
Ramesh and Ravindra sat with tea in hand, dark circles under their eyes.
"I was replying to telegrams till 3 a.m.," Ramesh groaned."FICCI wants breakfast. My wife wants a divorce," he chuckled.
Ravindra leaned back.
"But something hit me last night…"
Aryan turned toward him.
"For twenty years, I've been in politics. This is the first time I've heard the country stop whispering in fear."
"You didn't just pass a reform, Aryan. You turned it into a moral contract."
Aryan nodded slowly.
Then he looked out the window and spoke without turning back.
"We're not promising them anything."
"We're telling them what we'll do. And we'll do it."
"Change begins when that little girl wakes up tomorrow and walks to a school... that wasn't there yesterday."
The room fell silent.