The conference room at Bharat-Tech was designed to intimidate. It had a long, polished mahogany table, plush leather chairs, and a panoramic view of the Bangalore skyline—or at least, the hazy, developing skyline of 1991.
On one side sat Prakash Murthy, flanked by two men in expensive grey suits. They were partners from L&S Associates, one of the top firms in the city. They looked like sharks who had smelled blood.
On the other side sat Radha Varma, clutching her handbag like a shield; Aisha Siddiqui, looking sharp and predatory in her worn black coat; and Arjun, swinging his legs slightly because they didn't quite touch the floor.
"Let's make this quick," the lead lawyer, a man with a heavy gold watch, said dismissively. "Mr. Murthy has made a generous offer to a..." he glanced at Arjun, "...child and a schoolteacher. We expect a signature, not a debate."
Aisha didn't blink. She opened her folder, sliding her marked-up copy of their contract across the table. It looked like it had been bleeding red ink.
"And we expect a contract, not a death warrant," Aisha replied, her voice cool and projecting perfectly in the acoustic space. "Your 'generous offer' makes my client liable for your debts, locks her equity into a fixed valuation, and allows you to revoke it at will. It is a masterclass in bad faith."
The lawyer sneered. "Standard boilerplate for a high-risk consultant."
"It is standard garbage," Aisha shot back. "We have struck Clauses 8, 12, and 15. We have inserted a clause for proportional board representation. And we demand a valuation audit by an independent third party."
Prakash slammed his hand on the table. "Absolutely not! I am the CEO! I will not have a... a housewife telling me how to run my board!"
Radha flinched, but Aisha didn't move a muscle. "Then you won't have the code," she said calmly. "And you will explain to your shareholders why you went bankrupt when a solution was sitting across the table."
The room erupted into shouting. Prakash's lawyers attacked Aisha's credentials. Aisha countered by citing specific case law that made their "Performance Clause" illegal under the Indian Contract Act.
Arjun watched in silence.
[Scanning... Lawyer A: Frustrated. Lawyer B: Impressed. Prakash: Desperate, stubborn, irrational.]
The negotiation was stalling. Aisha was winning the legal argument, but Prakash was winning the ego battle. He would rather sink the ship than let someone else steer it. He needed a way out that made him feel like he won.
It was time for the "Krishna" move.
"Stop," Arjun said.
It wasn't a shout. It was a quiet command, spoken with the absolute certainty of an emperor. The room fell silent. Even the high-priced lawyers turned to look at the 12-year-old.
Arjun stood up on his chair to gain some height. He looked directly at Prakash.
"Mr. Murthy," Arjun said, "you are worried about control. You think my mother and I want to take over your company. We don't."
"Then why demands for board seats?" Prakash spat.
"Security," Arjun said. "But... we are willing to drop the board seat requirement."
Aisha whipped her head around, her eyes widening. "Arjun, no! That's suicide!"
Arjun ignored her. "We will drop the demand for board representation. We will accept the non-voting shares. We will even accept a cap on the liability."
Prakash's eyes lit up. He smelled victory. The kid was folding.
"But," Arjun continued, raising a finger, "in exchange for giving up control of your main company... we want something else. Something you don't value."
"What?" Prakash asked, suspicious.
"The government tender," Arjun said. "The 'Digitization of Land Records' project for the Karnataka State Government."
Prakash blinked. Then, he laughed. A harsh, barking laugh. "That? That dead dog? We lost that bid three months ago! The government suspended the project because no one could meet the technical specs!"
"Exactly," Arjun said. "It's a dead asset to you. So, give it to us."
He slid a single sheet of paper across the table. Aisha recognized it. It was the SPV proposal she had drafted that morning.
"We create a subsidiary," Arjun explained. "A separate entity. 'Bharat-Digital Services.' You own 49%. My trust owns 51%. This entity exists only to pursue that specific government contract. If we fail, you lose nothing. If we win... you get 49% of the profit for doing absolutely nothing."
Prakash looked at his lawyers. They shrugged. To them, 49% of zero was zero. The land records project was notorious—a bureaucratic nightmare that had already cost Prakash lakhs in wasted development time.
"So," Prakash said, a smirk forming. "You want majority control of a graveyard? In exchange for giving up board seats in the parent company?"
"Yes," Arjun lied smoothly. "I want a sandbox to play in. You keep your kingdom. I'll play in the dirt."
Prakash leaned back, feeling the sweet rush of triumph. He was swindling the kid. He would get the compression code for the main company, keep full control, and give the boy a worthless project to keep him busy.
"Done," Prakash said, grinning. "We sign today."
Aisha looked down at her papers to hide the trembling of her hands. She wasn't trembling from fear. She was trembling because she realized what had just happened.
Prakash thought he had thrown them a bone.
Arjun knew he had just stolen the entire steak.
The "Bhoomi" project—the digitization of land records—would become the single most lucrative government tech contract of the next decade. It was the foundation of digital governance in India. And Arjun had just secured 51% of it for free.
"Draw up the papers," Aisha said, her voice steady, suppressing a wild urge to laugh. "We have a deal."