Three months after Swami's arrest
The air in the Fort office no longer smelled of dust. It smelled of strong coffee, cheap toner, and the faint, sweet scent of ambition. The single desk had multiplied into four. Deepak's domain was a corner piled with logistics manifests and freight schedules, a second-hand computer humming on his desk. Sanjay's area was a chaotic whirl of product samples, client folders, and a telephone he was never off. A young woman named Lina, hired for her sharp English and even sharper wit, managed the front desk and the ledgers.
Harsh sat at his own desk, staring not at a vision board, but at a bank statement.
Patel Holdings - Business Account Balance: ₹8,57,432
It was a solid number. But it was a mirage. He scrolled down.
Outstanding Liabilities:
· Office Rent (3 months advance): ₹75,000
· Salaries (Deepak, Sanjay, Lina): ₹45,000/month
· Warehouse Lease (Sewri): ₹1,20,000 (quarterly)
· Legal Fees (Mehta & Associates): ₹2,50,000 (retainer)
The legal fees were the killer. Ms. Mehta's team was meticulously untangling the legal nightmare of Swami's assets, but her clock ticked at ₹5,000 an hour. The 'Arun Patel' oil money—a windfall of just over ₹92 lakh—was being systematically devoured by the plodding, expensive machinery of legitimacy.
"The Agarwal account is settled," Lina said, placing a invoice on his desk. "Full payment, plus the 15% premium he insisted on for the next six months. That's another ₹84,500 in."
Harsh nodded. Agarwal had become their champion, singing their praises to anyone who would listen. The 'no-bribe' guarantee, while costing them time and efficiency, was becoming their unique selling proposition in a corrupt market.
"The spice shipment for Merchant Co. is stuck at customs," Deepak said, not looking up from his computer. "The usual guy is 'sick'. His replacement is asking for a 'processing fee' of ₹10,000 to clear it by tomorrow. Otherwise, it sits for a week."
There it was. The daily test. The city's endemic corruption, a tax on doing business honestly.
Harsh didn't hesitate. "No. Let it sit."
Deepak finally looked up, concerned. "Bhai, the penalty for late delivery to the client is ₹15,000. It's cheaper to pay the bribe."
"It's not about the money," Harsh said, his voice flat. "It's about the precedent. The first time we pay, they own us. Let it sit. Call the client, explain the delay. Tell them why. Offer them a 10% discount on this shipment for the inconvenience."
Sanjay whistled. "That's a ₹12,000 hit!"
"It's a ₹12,000 investment in our reputation," Harsh corrected. "And a message to customs that our pockets are not open for business."
The message was received. The shipment was delayed. The client, initially angry, was so disarmed by the honesty and the discount that they not only stayed but placed a larger order. The story spread. Patel Holdings was the company that would rather lose money than pay a bribe.
But the financial bleed was real. After three months, the books showed a sobering reality:
Total Revenue (Logistics): ₹6,18,900 Total Operating Costs: ₹8,42,100 Net Loss: ₹(2,23,200)
They were operating at a loss. The oil money was subsidizing their integrity.
Harsh knew this couldn't last. He needed a new revenue stream, something with higher margins. His eyes fell on a sample on Sanjay's desk—a beautifully crafted leather wallet from Agarwal's factory. The quality was exceptional, but the design was outdated.
An idea sparked. A dangerous one. It involved dipping a toe back into the waters he'd sworn to avoid.
He called Dalal, who was out on bail and acting as a consultant from a cramped interim office.
"The electronics plant Swami owned," Harsh said. "The one that assembled cheap radios. What's its status?"
"Frozen asset," Dalal's voice crackled over the line. "The machinery is decent. Japanese. The workers are idle. Why?"
"I want to see it."
The plant was in a dusty industrial estate on the city's outskirts. It was a sad place, silent and still. The foreman, a tired-looking man named Rahim, showed him around.
"We made good things," Rahim said, his hand resting on a silent conveyor belt. "But he," he didn't need to say Swami's name, "wanted cheaper parts. Worse solder. The quality dropped. The orders stopped."
Harsh saw the potential. The machinery was good. The workers were skilled, just demoralized.
"How much to get it running again?" Harsh asked Dalal later. "To make a quality product. Not radios. Something else."
Dalal ran the numbers. "Initial capital for components, back wages, utilities… ₹15 lakh. Minimum."
It was a huge chunk of his remaining capital. A massive risk.
But Harsh was done with playing it safe. He'd built a logistics business on a principle. Now he would build a product on a memory.
He gave the order. "Do it. But we're not making radios." He sketched an idea on a notepad—a sleek, portable cassette player, but with superior speakers, better components, and a modern design. "We're making this. The 'Bombay Groove'. We'll sell it for a premium. Through our logistics arm, direct to retailers, cutting out the middleman."
It was a vertical integration strategy. Risky, brilliant, and utterly dependent on his ability to execute.
Two weeks later, the first prototype was on his desk. It was heavier than the cheap Chinese imports, the sound was richer, fuller. It felt substantial.
He handed it to Sanjay. "Your first sales target isn't a store. It's Priya."
Priya, now finishing her final exams, looked at the player skeptically, then listened. Her eyes widened. "This is… incredible, Harsh. The sound quality… it's like you're in the room with the musicians."
"Will your college friends buy it?" he asked. "For ₹2,500?" It was triple the price of a generic player.
She smiled. "They will if I tell them to."
Using her network and Sanjay's relentless energy, they pre-sold fifty units to students and young professionals before the first production run was even finished. The ₹1,25,000 in pre-orders was a drop in the bucket, but it was validation.
The gamble was underway. The ledger for the next month would tell the story:
Patel Holdings - End of Month 4 Cash Reserve (from Oil Fund): ₹52,18,768 Logistics Net Loss: ₹(68,500) Electronics Plant Investment: ₹(15,00,000) Projected 'Bombay Groove' Revenue (Pre-orders): ₹1,25,000
He was burning cash at an alarming rate. The crown of ashes was heavy, and the path to legitimacy was the most expensive road he'd ever travelled.
But for the first time, the product on his desk wasn't just a repaired gadget. It was something he had created. Something new.
He pressed play. The room filled with the clear, soaring notes of a Lata Mangeshkar classic. It was a sound of defiance. A signal that the architect was not just clearing rubble—he was finally starting to build.
(Chapter End)