The spring of 1995 was not a season of sowing, but of harvest. A harvest of such staggering proportions that it threatened to overwhelm the very machinery Harsh had built to contain it.
The trigger was NetScape.
On a day that would be etched in financial history, NetScape Communications went public. The frenzy that surrounded its Initial Public Offering (IPO) was unlike anything Wall Street had ever seen. The stock, offered at $28 per share, opened at more than double that price and continued to climb in a vertiginous ascent that defied all rational analysis.
In the silent, climate-controlled heart of the Aethelred Trust, the digital ticker told a story of pure alchemy. The Trust's initial $500,000 investment, a bet that had seemed audacious just months before, was now worth over $70 million. It was a return of 14,000%.
Rakesh delivered the news in person, his usual composure fractured by the sheer, incomprehensible scale of the gain. "Harsh Ji... the numbers... they are..."
"I see them," Harsh said, his voice unnervingly calm. He was watching the ticker on his screen, the numbers a blur of green. He felt a profound, almost spiritual stillness. This was the moment he had been working towards since his rebirth. This was the validation of his entire existence. The future knowledge that had been his burden and his compass had just paid for itself a thousand times over.
"The lock-up period is ninety days," Rakesh continued, forcing his voice back to professionalism. "After that, we can begin to liquidate our position."
"We will not liquidate it all," Harsh instructed, his mind already leaping ahead. "Sell twenty percent. Take the profit. Let the rest ride." He understood the symbolic power of NetScape; it was the flagbearer of the coming era. Holding a large stake gave him influence, a seat at the table.
The twenty percent sale still realized a profit of over $14 million. It was more liquid cash than the entire market capitalization of Bharat Electronics just two years prior.
The harvest did not stop there. The "Patel Anomaly" story, already legendary, now achieved mythic status. The NetScape IPO made the Aethelred Trust and its enigmatic manager, Rakesh, the talk of every trading floor and venture capital firm in the world. The Trust's value, even excluding the NetScape holding, had soared on the back of its other prescient investments. The total portfolio was now valued at over $90 million.
The floodgates opened. Investment banks in London and New York called, offering to lend the Trust hundreds of millions against its portfolio. Start-up founders from every corner of the globe begged for an audience. Harsh had Rakesh establish a formal "Aethelred Ventures" arm to handle the deluge, with a mandate to invest in the infrastructure of the digital age—not just software, but fiber optics, data centers, and wireless technology.
Back in India, the reverberations were felt differently. The $14 million profit, a sum so vast it was abstract, was transferred to a new, ultra-secure account. Harsh looked at the balance. He could now buy any company in India he wanted. He could fund the "Sanskrit" project for a decade without a second thought. He could build a dozen new factories.
But the power was no longer in the building. It was in the ownership. It was in the capital.
He summoned his Indian leadership team. He did not tell them the numbers—the truth was too destabilizing. Instead, he gave them a new, almost limitless mandate.
"Deepak," he said, "double the size of Bharat Labs. Hire whoever you need from anywhere in the world. I want not just the 'Sanskrit' processor. I want a roadmap for the next five generations. Cost is irrelevant."
He turned to Vikram. "Accelerate the Asian expansion. I want Patel Holdings operational in Thailand and Vietnam within twelve months. Acquire local logistics companies if you have to. I want us to be the default supply chain for Indian trade with Southeast Asia."
He had just harvested a fortune from the future, and he was immediately reinvesting it—not in the volatile stock market, but in the solid, tangible foundations of his empire. The dollars from NetScape were being converted into Indian engineering talent and Asian logistical dominance.
Harsh stood at the center of the storm, the calm eye. The harvest was in. The granaries were overflowing. The sovereign now possessed a treasury that could fund wars, build cities, or reshape industries. The power was absolute, and the responsibility was his alone. The journey from the hundred-rupee note was complete. He had arrived at a destination beyond his wildest previous dreams. Now, he had to decide what to do in a world where, financially, almost anything was possible.