The prototype was a masterpiece. The factory was stirring to life. The sense of possibility was a drug, and for a few days, Harsh let himself inhale it deeply.
Reality, in the form of Lina's ledgers and Sanjay's sales reports, was the inevitable crash.
The financial snapshot was brutal. The "Arun Patel" fund, once a mighty ₹92 lakh, now stood at a precarious ₹72,79,940. They were burning through cash at a rate of nearly ₹5 lakh a month between legal fees, salaries, the warehouse cleanup, and the plant investment. The revenue from the two trucks—now a consistent ₹35,000 a week—was a thimble trying to bail out a sinking ship.
The "Bombay Groove" was the lifeboat. But a lifeboat was useless if you couldn't get it into the water.
This task fell to Sanjay. Armed with the prototype and a newly printed business card that felt flimsy in the face of the established order, he embarked on his mission: to conquer Lamington Road.
His first target was Magnum Electronics, a large, brightly lit store with a reputation for carrying every brand imaginable. The owner, Mr. Goyal, was a legend—a man who had built his empire on a keen understanding of two things: margins and mamool.
Sanjay waited for nearly an hour before Goyal waved him over, not looking up from a ledger filled with dense figures.
"Speak. I have two minutes," Goyal said, his voice a bored rasp.
"Sir, I represent Patel Holdings. We have a new product. A cassette player. Superior sound quality. We are looking for retail partners." Sanjay placed the business card on the desk like a offering.
Goyal didn't touch it. "Patel Holdings. Never heard of you. Who is your distributor? Impex? Techno Sales?"
"We are the manufacturer, sir. We sell direct. No middleman. Better price for you."
Goyal finally looked up, his eyes sharp and cynical. "Direct? That means no one else is selling it. That means no one knows it. That means I have to spend my money to advertise your product. Why would I do that?"
Sanjay saw his opening. He opened his case and placed the "Bombay Groove" on the desk. "The product will sell itself, sir. The sound quality is unlike anything else at this price point." He offered the headphones.
Goyal eyed the player. The aluminum faceplate was a point in its favor. He took the headphones with a sigh, as if humoring a child, and put them on. Sanjay pressed play.
For a full thirty seconds, Goyal listened, his expression unreadable. He took the headphones off. "It's good. Clear. The bass is strong." A flicker of interest. "Price?"
"₹2,200 for you. Retail at ₹2,800."
Goyal's eyebrows shot up. Then he laughed, a short, harsh sound. "₹2,800? Boy, I can sell a Sony for ₹2,500. A Sony. People know that name. They trust it. What is Patel? Who will pay ₹2,800 for a name they don't know?" He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Look. The sound is good. I'll give you that. I'll take ten units. But not for ₹2,200. For ₹1,500. And I want 10% for... promotional support. And if they don't sell in a month, I return them. No questions."
It was a predatory offer. At ₹1,500, they would be losing money on every unit. The "promotional support" was a blatant demand for a bribe.
Sanjay kept his smile, though it felt stiff. "I'm sorry, sir. Our pricing is firm. And we don't do consignment or... promotional fees. We have a money-back guarantee on defects, that's it."
Goyal's face shut down immediately. The brief flicker of interest was extinguished, replaced by cold business. "Then you have nothing I want. Take your player. Good luck. You will need it." He went back to his ledger, dismissing Sanjay without another word.
The scene repeated itself, with variations, all down the length of Lamington Road.
At every store, the "Bombay Groove" earned praise for its quality. And at every store, the conversation ended the moment Sanjay explained their direct-to-retail, no-bribe model. The established ecosystem was a fortress, and its walls were built on kickbacks, distributor relationships, and brand name recognition. Patel Holdings, with its principled stand, was seen as either hopelessly naïve or arrogantly stupid.
Dejected, Sanjay returned to the office as the evening lights began to flicker on across the city. He dropped the sample case on his desk with a thud.
"It's impossible, Bhaiya," he said, the frustration of the day pouring out. "They all love it until they hear the word 'Patel'. They see a new name and they see a weakness. They don't want a partner; they want a supplier they can squeeze. Goyal offered ₹1,500. Fifteen hundred! He might as well have asked me to pay him to take it!"
Harsh listened, his own earlier optimism curdling. He had been so focused on building a better product, he had underestimated the sheer inertia and corruption of the market. He had a lifeboat, but the sea was made of glue.
Just then, Lina looked up from her desk. "A call for you, Sanjay sir. From a Mr. Agarwal? The textile mill owner."
Sanjay's heart sank. Had there been a problem with the latest shipment? He took the phone, bracing for bad news.
"Sanjay?" Mr. Agarwal's voice was warm. "That music player. The one you showed my manager last week when you dropped the invoice. Do you have any more?"
Sanjay's mind went blank. He had done a casual demo for the bored clerk in Agarwal's accounts office, almost as an afterthought. "The... the Bombay Groove, sir? Yes. We have the prototype. The production hasn't—"
"Good," Agarwal cut him off. "I need twenty of them. By next week. My best clients are visiting from Dubai. I want a gift that is impressive, but also... local. Something with quality. This will do perfectly. Send me the invoice."
Twenty units. At their full wholesale price of ₹2,200. That was ₹44,000. Their first real order.
"Of course, sir! Right away!" Sanjay stammered, hanging up the phone in a daze.
He looked at Harsh, a stunned smile breaking through his frustration. "Agarwal. Twenty units. For his clients."
It wasn't a retail channel. It was a single, corporate order. A lifeline, not a victory. But it was something. It was validation from the one man whose opinion had come to matter precisely because he valued principle over pressure.
Harsh clapped him on the shoulder. "See? We don't need to break down their walls, Sanjay. We'll just build our own gate."
The victory was small, but in the besieged castle of Patel Holdings, it felt like a reprieve. They had their first order. Now they just had to figure out how to produce twenty perfect units in a week, with a factory that had yet to assemble a single one.
The pressure had just shifted from the market back to the machine.
(Chapter End)