Chapter 112: The Blue Water Problem
Location: Shergill Industries Headquarters, Gorakhpur
Date: 15 March 1973 — 09:20 Hours
---
The telex sat on Karan's desk like an accusation.
FROM: EGYPTIAN MINISTRY OF AGRICULTURE, CAIRO
TO: SHERGILL AGRI-CHEM INDUSTRIES
DATE: 14 MARCH 1973
RE: FERTILIZER SHIPMENT DELAY
YOUR SHIPMENT OF 5,000 TONNES UREA FERTILIZER CONTRACTED FOR DELIVERY MARCH 10 HAS NOT ARRIVED. SHIPPING CORPORATION OF INDIA VESSEL MV JALA DURGA DEPARTED KANDLA FEBRUARY 28, ESTIMATED ARRIVAL CAIRO MARCH 8. VESSEL NOW 6 DAYS OVERDUE. EGYPTIAN CUSTOMS REQUIRES IMMEDIATE CLARIFICATION OR CONTRACT PENALTIES WILL APPLY PER CLAUSE 12.3.
AWAITING URGENT RESPONSE.
Karan had read it three times. Each reading made him angrier.
Not the performative anger that some executives used to intimidate subordinates, but the cold, focused anger that came from having built something carefully and then watching it get sabotaged by someone else's incompetence.
He pressed the intercom.
"Get me Balachandran. Now."
Thirty seconds later Aditya walked in, followed by K.R. Balachandran — the logistics manager who had been with Shergill Industries for six years and who currently had the expression of a man walking toward his own execution.
Karan held up the telex.
"Explain this."
Balachandran's voice was careful, controlled. "The MV Jala Durga was scheduled to dock in Alexandria on March 8th. It didn't arrive. I've been trying to contact SCI's operations office in Bombay since Monday. Nobody will give me a straight answer."
"Nobody will give you an answer," Karan repeated. His voice was very level. "We paid SCI seventy-two lakh rupees to transport that shipment. The Egyptians paid us two crore fifteen lakh rupees with a delivery guarantee. If we miss the delivery window, we pay penalties of forty-three lakh rupees per week of delay. That ship is now six days late. In eight more days we start losing forty-three lakh rupees every seven days. And SCI won't tell you where the ship is."
"That's correct, sir."
Karan set the telex down deliberately, stood, and walked to the window.
Outside, the Gorakhpur industrial complex spread for two square kilometers. Steel plant cooling towers releasing steam into the March sky. Fertilizer production facility with its distillation columns and storage tanks. Aerospace division hangars where S-22 components were being assembled. Semiconductor fab running three shifts producing chips that would have been impossible to make in India three years ago.
All of it producing value.
And then depending on incompetent bastards at SCI to actually deliver that value to customers who had paid for it.
He turned back.
"How many other shipments are currently moving on SCI vessels?"
Balachandran consulted his folder. His hands weren't quite steady. "Fourteen active shipments. Steel to Singapore, fertilizer to Iran, precision instruments to Malaysia, automotive components to Thailand, pharmaceuticals to Kenya—"
"Total contract value?"
"Eleven crore thirty-two lakh rupees."
"And how many are on schedule?"
Balachandran hesitated.
"How many, Balachandran?"
"Three, sir."
The room was very quiet.
"Three," Karan said. "Out of fourteen. That's twenty-one percent on-time performance. The other eleven are delayed between—" he gestured for Balachandran to continue.
"Between four days and three weeks, sir. The Iranian fertilizer shipment is twenty-two days late. The Malaysian instruments are eleven days late. The Singapore steel is—"
"Stop." Karan sat back down. "Aditya, call SCI headquarters in Bombay. Not the regional office. Not the dispatch desk. The managing director's office. Tell them Karan Shergill wants to know where MV Jala Durga is right now, what caused the delay, and when it will actually reach Alexandria. Tell them I want answers in two hours or I'm coming to Bombay personally."
Aditya left immediately.
Karan looked at Balachandran.
"This isn't new. SCI has been unreliable for months."
"Yes, sir." Balachandran's voice was quiet. "Long booking lead times, schedule uncertainties, poor communication, limited cargo space. But they're the primary Indian-flag carrier with international routes. The government provides export incentives for using domestic shipping. And politically—"
"Politically it looks bad to use foreign ships for Indian exports," Karan finished. "I know the argument. I've heard it from the Commerce Ministry, the Shipping Ministry, and three different secretaries who all insisted supporting SCI was our patriotic duty." He paused. "How's that patriotism working out when we're paying forty-three lakh rupee penalties because their ship vanished into the Mediterranean?"
Balachandran said nothing.
"What would it actually take," Karan said slowly, "to run our own ships? Our cargo, our schedule, our control."
"Sir, that's—" Balachandran stopped himself. "That would require purchasing vessels, hiring crews, establishing port operations, navigating international maritime regulations, insurance, maintenance—"
"We have a shipyard," Karan interrupted.
Balachandran blinked. "Sir?"
"Shergill Heavy Marine Industries. Vizag. We've been building merchant vessels for two years. Bulk carriers for coal transport, general cargo ships for export customers, tankers for petroleum companies." Karan leaned forward. "Why the hell are we building ships for other people to carry their cargo while we sit here waiting for SCI to maybe, possibly, eventually deliver ours?"
The question hung in the air.
"The shipyard is—" Balachandran started.
"Occupied with customer orders, I know," Karan said. "Which we can defer, reschedule, or subcontract. This is a strategic priority. We need ships. We have a facility that builds ships. Connect the two."
Balachandran was quiet for a moment, visibly recalculating.
"How many ships would we need?" he asked.
"You tell me. You're the logistics manager."
Balachandran pulled out a different folder — he'd clearly been thinking about this possibility for longer than this conversation. "Based on current export volumes and projected growth, we'd need five to six vessels. Mix of bulk carriers for raw materials and fertilizers, general cargo ships for manufactured goods and precision instruments. Each ship around 10,000 to 12,000 deadweight tonnes."
---
Deadweight tonnage — DWT — measured a ship's cargo capacity: the total weight of cargo, fuel, crew, provisions, and ballast water the vessel could safely carry. A 10,000 DWT ship could transport roughly 8,000 to 9,000 tonnes of actual cargo, with the difference accounting for fuel, water, and supplies needed for the voyage. This was different from the ship's own weight — a 10,000 DWT vessel might itself weigh 3,000 to 4,000 tonnes empty.
---
"How long to build them?" Karan asked.
"The shipyard's current lead time for a 10,000 DWT general cargo vessel is fourteen to sixteen months from keel laying to delivery," Balachandran said. "If we prioritize and run parallel construction on multiple slipways, we could potentially deliver five ships in eighteen to twenty months."
"Too long," Karan said. "We're bleeding money now, not in eighteen months."
"Then we'd need to charter vessels short-term while we build our own fleet," Balachandran said. "Time charter — we lease ships from owners for fixed daily rates, use them as if they were ours, return them when our own ships are ready."
"Cost?"
"Approximately thirty thousand rupees per day per ship for a 10,000 DWT vessel. For three ships on six-month charters while we build—" he calculated quickly "—roughly one crore sixty-two lakh rupees total."
"Expensive," Karan said. "But cheaper than continuing to pay penalties and lose customers because SCI can't find their own ships." He made a decision. "Do it. Charter three vessels immediately. Six-month terms with renewal options. Meanwhile, redirect the Vizag shipyard to build five ships for Shergill Maritime Corporation—"
"Shergill Maritime Corporation doesn't exist yet, sir," Balachandran pointed out.
"It will by Monday," Karan said. "Aditya handles incorporation. You handle the operational planning. I want a complete proposal: fleet composition, routes, crew requirements, port infrastructure, regulatory compliance, everything. On my desk by Friday."
"Sir, today is Thursday."
"Then you have twenty-four hours. Use them well."
Balachandran left, moving faster than Karan had seen him move in months.
Karan sat alone for a moment.
The anger was still there, but now it had direction. Not just frustration at SCI's incompetence, but a clear path forward that didn't depend on them.
The pattern was familiar by now. Every time Shergill Industries hit a dependency on some external organization that couldn't or wouldn't perform — electricity supply, component manufacturing, semiconductor fabrication, now shipping — the solution was the same.
Stop depending on them. Build it yourself.
Vertical integration taken to its logical conclusion: if you needed something critical and reliable, you built the capability in-house.
Apparently today's lesson was maritime logistics.
Fine.
---
Same day — 11:45 Hours
Aditya returned from making the phone call.
"SCI's operations director will call you back within the hour," he said. "He sounded nervous when I mentioned you were considering flying to Bombay."
"He should be nervous," Karan said. "What's the status on incorporating Shergill Maritime?"
"I've contacted Mehta & Associates. They can have the incorporation documents ready by tomorrow afternoon. Authorized capital?"
"Twenty-five crore rupees. Initial paid-up capital five crore."
Aditya made notes. "Board composition?"
"You, me, Balachandran as Director of Logistics, and we'll need a maritime operations expert — someone who actually knows how to run ships."
"Finding that person will take time," Aditya said. "It's not like hiring an engineer. Merchant marine expertise is specialized."
"Then start the search immediately," Karan said. "Contact retired Navy officers, merchant marine captains, people who've run shipping operations. I want interviews scheduled within two weeks."
The phone rang.
Karan picked it up.
"Karan Shergill."
"Mr. Shergill, R.K. Venkataraman, Operations Director for Shipping Corporation of India." The voice was professionally polite but with an undertone of bureaucratic defensiveness. "I understand you have concerns about MV Jala Durga."
"I have concerns," Karan said, his voice very controlled, "about a ship carrying five thousand tonnes of my fertilizer that was supposed to arrive in Egypt six days ago and has apparently vanished. Where is it?"
"The vessel experienced delays due to weather conditions in the eastern Mediterranean," Venkataraman said in the tone of someone reading from a prepared statement. "It is currently proceeding to destination and should arrive within three to four days."
"Three to four days. So nine to ten days late total. And what about the delivery penalties my company will pay because your ship is late?"
"Weather delays are covered under force majeure provisions of the shipping contract, Mr. Shergill. SCI is not liable for—"
"The contract I signed with the Egyptians doesn't have force majeure provisions for weather," Karan interrupted. "It has delivery dates and penalty clauses. Every week of delay costs me forty-three lakh rupees. So when your operations director tells me the ship will arrive 'within three to four days,' what he's actually telling me is that I should prepare to write a check for forty-three lakh rupees because SCI couldn't maintain a schedule."
There was a pause on the other end.
"I understand your frustration, Mr. Shergill, but maritime operations involve uncertainties—"
"Then give me information so I can manage those uncertainties," Karan said. His voice had an edge now. "Where exactly is the ship right now? What was the specific weather event that caused the delay? What is its current speed and estimated arrival time with some precision better than 'three to four days'? I have a customer who paid two crore fifteen lakh rupees asking me where their cargo is. I need better answers than 'proceeding to destination.'"
Another pause, longer this time.
"That information is not typically shared with—"
"Mr. Venkataraman," Karan said, very quietly. "I currently have fourteen shipments moving or waiting on SCI vessels. Total contract value eleven crore thirty-two lakh rupees. Every single one is delayed. I'm trying very hard to remain an SCI customer instead of chartering foreign-flag vessels or building my own fleet. Help me stay your customer."
The silence stretched.
"I'll have our operations desk send you detailed position and status reports for all your shipments," Venkataraman said finally. "Within two hours."
"Thank you," Karan said. "And Mr. Venkataraman? If MV Jala Durga doesn't dock in Alexandria within four days, I want a written explanation of exactly what happened, signed by you personally."
"I... yes. Understood."
Karan hung up.
Aditya was watching him with an expression somewhere between concern and admiration.
"You just threatened the Operations Director of a government corporation," Aditya said.
"I didn't threaten him," Karan said. "I informed him of consequences. If SCI can't deliver cargo reliably and won't communicate honestly about delays, they lose business. That's not a threat. That's economics."
"SCI is government-protected," Aditya pointed out. "They don't worry much about losing customers because they have a near-monopoly on Indian-flag shipping."
"Then we break the monopoly," Karan said. "Which is exactly what we're doing."
---
18 March 1973 — 14:00 Hours
Conference Room, Shergill Industries Headquarters
The table was covered with maritime charts, shipyard production schedules, port facility diagrams, and financial projections.
Balachandran had assembled a team: two marine engineers from the Vizag shipyard, a port logistics specialist, a maritime insurance consultant, and Rajesh Sharma, the Finance Director who had replaced Lev in coordinating major capital projects.
---
Rajesh Sharma was forty-six years old, chartered accountant by training, fifteen years in corporate finance including seven years at Tata Steel before joining Shergill Industries in 1971. Where Lev Abrahamov was focused on ISMC and semiconductor operations, Sharma handled the broader industrial finance across steel, chemicals, aerospace, and now maritime ventures. He had the particular skill of translating technical requirements into financial models that showed whether ambitious projects made economic sense or were merely expensive ways to lose money.
---
Karan sat at the head of the table. Aditya was beside him with a fresh notebook.
"Let's start with the shipyard capacity," Karan said.
Vikram Desai, chief marine engineer from Vizag, spoke first. "Currently we have three slipways operational. Two are occupied with customer orders — a 15,000 DWT bulk carrier for Coal India and a 12,000 DWT general cargo ship for a Singapore-based operator. The third slipway is in final fitting-out for a tanker that delivers next month."
"Timeline on the customer orders?" Karan asked.
"Coal India bulk carrier delivers in August. Singapore cargo ship delivers in November."
"Can we defer them?"
Desai looked uncomfortable. "The contracts have penalty clauses for late delivery. Coal India is government — they'll be difficult about it. The Singapore customer might accept a delay if we offer compensation, but it damages our reputation as a reliable builder."
"What if we don't defer but accelerate our own builds by adding capacity?" Karan asked.
"We'd need a fourth slipway," Desai said. "We have the physical space in the yard. We'd need to construct the slipway infrastructure — concrete foundation, launch rails, overhead crane system, work sheds. That's six to eight months of construction."
"Too slow," Karan said. "We need ships operating this year, not next year."
Sharma, the finance director, spoke. "The chartered vessels cover the immediate gap. Three ships on six-month charters starting April 1st. That gives us operational capacity while we build."
"Chartering costs?" Karan asked.
"One crore sixty-two lakh for six months total across three ships," Sharma said. "Not ideal, but necessary. Meanwhile, the shipyard builds five vessels for Shergill Maritime. Estimated completion timeline: first ship in twelve months, all five delivered within twenty months."
Karan looked at Desai. "Can you deliver five ships in twenty months?"
"If we prioritize them and run overlapping construction schedules, yes," Desai said. "We'd use all three slipways as they become available from current orders, plus potentially subcontract some components to other yards to speed fabrication. We can build the hulls and do final assembly in Vizag, but source engines from Shergill Heavy Engineering in Ranchi, electrical systems from our electronics division, navigation equipment from established suppliers."
"Build cost per ship?" Karan asked.
"For a 10,000 to 12,000 DWT general cargo vessel, approximately three crore rupees per ship," Desai said. "That's competitive with international pricing and includes all equipment, testing, and delivery."
"So five ships is fifteen crore rupees," Sharma said. "Plus the charter costs of one-point-six crore, plus port infrastructure which we haven't costed yet, plus working capital for operations. Total capital requirement is going to be in the twenty to twenty-two crore range."
The room was quiet for a moment, absorbing that number.
Twenty crore rupees was not trivial even for Shergill Industries.
"Revenue model?" Karan asked.
Balachandran pulled out his projections. "A 10,000 DWT cargo ship operating India-Middle East routes can carry approximately 8,000 tonnes of cargo per voyage. Current freight rates average eight hundred to one thousand rupees per tonne depending on cargo type and route. At nine hundred rupees average, that's seventy-two lakh rupees revenue per voyage."
"A ship can make ten to twelve voyages per year depending on route length and port turnaround time. At eleven voyages, that's seven crore ninety-two lakh rupees annual revenue per ship."
"Operating costs?"
"Crew salaries, fuel, maintenance, insurance, port fees, administrative overhead — approximately one crore twenty lakh rupees per year per ship."
"So each ship nets about six crore seventy lakh per year," Karan said.
"If it's fully loaded every voyage," Sharma cautioned. "Industry standard is about seventy-five percent capacity utilization. At that rate, revenue drops to five crore ninety-four lakh, net profit around four crore seventy-four lakh per ship per year."
"Five ships generating four-point-seven crore profit each is twenty-three-point-five crore per year," Karan calculated. "Against a capital investment of twenty-two crore, that's full payback in under twelve months."
"That's optimistic," Sharma said. "It assumes we hit seventy-five percent utilization immediately, which won't happen. First year utilization will be lower as we establish routes and build customer relationships. More realistic payback is two to three years."
"Still acceptable," Karan said. "What about port infrastructure?"
The port logistics specialist — Mohan Kumar, who had spent twenty years managing cargo operations at Bombay port before Shergill had hired him away in 1972 — spoke up.
"We need dedicated terminal capacity at three locations: Kandla in Gujarat for fertilizer and petroleum products, Vizag for steel and general cargo, and Bombay for manufactured goods and high-value items."
---
*Port terminals were specialized facilities where ships docked to load and unload cargo. A dedicated terminal meant Shergill would have priority access to specific berths (parking spots for ships), cargo handling equipment (cranes, forklifts, conveyor systems), and storage areas (warehouses, open yards, refrigerated containers for sensitive cargo). Without dedicated terminals, ships had to wait for available berths at multi-user facilities, which meant delays that defeated the entire purpose of controlling the shipping schedule.*
---
"At Kandla," Kumar continued, "we need one berth with bulk handling equipment — conveyor systems for moving fertilizer and grain, pipeline connections for petroleum products. At Vizag, one berth with heavy-duty cranes for steel coils and plates. At Bombay, one berth with container handling capability for manufactured goods."
"Cost?" Karan asked.
"Building new berths is expensive — five to eight crore rupees per location. But we don't need to build. We can lease dedicated berth space from the port trusts. Kandla Port Trust, Visakhapatnam Port Trust, Bombay Port Trust all have available berths. Lease cost would be approximately eight to twelve lakh rupees per year per berth, plus equipment rental."
"Much cheaper than building," Sharma noted. "Annual cost of three berths plus equipment is maybe forty to fifty lakh rupees. That's manageable."
"Negotiate the leases," Karan said. "Start with Kandla since that's where the fertilizer exports move from. Then Vizag and Bombay."
Kumar made notes.
"One more issue," Balachandran said. "Crew. Each ship needs approximately twenty-five people — captain, deck officers, engine officers, ratings for deck work and engine room, cook, stewards. For five ships that's one hundred twenty-five people. For the three chartered ships, crews are provided by the owners. For our own ships, we need to recruit and train."
"How do we find qualified merchant marine crew?" Karan asked.
"Merchant navy training institutes in Bombay and Cochin produce deck and engine officers," Balachandran said. "We recruit fresh graduates and experienced officers from other shipping companies. Pay competitive salaries, offer better working conditions than SCI, and we'll get good people."
"SCI won't like us poaching their crew," Aditya said.
"SCI can compete by treating their crew better," Karan said. "If they lose people to us because we pay more and operate more professionally, that's their problem." He paused. "What's the timeline for having crews ready?"
"For ships delivering in twelve months, we start recruiting in six months," Balachandran said. "That gives us six months to hire, train on chartered vessels, and prepare for transition to our own fleet."
Karan nodded. "Anything else critical we haven't covered?"
"Flag registration," Desai said. "Ships need to be registered under a national flag. Indian flag registration means compliance with Indian maritime regulations, crew licensing, safety standards. The Directorate General of Shipping handles this."
"Bureaucratic nightmare?" Karan asked.
"Potentially," Desai admitted. "But we have experience from building ships for other Indian operators. We know the requirements. It's manageable."
"Then manage it," Karan said.
He looked around the table.
"Here's what we're doing. Shergill Maritime Corporation incorporates on Monday. Balachandran, you're Director of Operations effective immediately. Salary increase to thirty-five thousand per month."
Balachandran's eyes widened slightly but he just nodded.
"Charter three vessels for six months starting April 1st. Use them to establish routes and operational procedures. Simultaneously, Vizag shipyard builds five cargo ships for delivery between March 1974 and November 1974. Mohan handles port terminal leases. Rajesh structures the financing. Questions?"
"The chartered vessels," Balachandran said. "What routes do we prioritize?"
"India-Middle East first," Karan said. "That's where the Egyptian fertilizer and Iranian shipments are going. Get those routes stable and reliable. Then India-Southeast Asia. Then East Africa if capacity allows."
"Crew recruitment starts when?" Balachandran asked.
"September," Karan said. "Six months from now. That gives you time to set up the recruiting pipeline and training program."
He stood.
"One more thing. We need a Director of Marine Operations — someone who actually knows ships, has commanded them, understands maritime operations at the operational level not just the management level. Start searching for candidates. I want interviews scheduled within three weeks."
"Specific qualifications?" Balachandran asked.
"Master mariner certification, at least twenty years at sea, command experience on cargo vessels, preferably someone who's also run shore operations for a shipping company. Someone who won't sink our ships or get them detained in foreign ports."
"That's a rare combination," Balachandran said.
"Then find a rare person," Karan said. "Pay whatever it takes."
---
30 March 1973 — 10:00 Hours
Shergill Heavy Marine Industries, Visakhapatnam
The shipyard occupied two hundred acres of coastal land with three slipways sloping down to the Bay of Bengal, massive overhead cranes moving along rails, fabrication sheds where hull sections were welded together, and a fitting-out pier where completed ships received their final equipment before delivery.
Karan walked through the yard with Vikram Desai, the chief marine engineer, and Arun Prasad, the shipyard general manager.
They stopped at Slipway Two, where the hull of a 12,000 DWT general cargo ship was taking shape — a massive steel structure 130 meters long and 18 meters wide, the skeleton of ribs and frames now being plated with steel sheets that would form the hull.
---
Building a ship was fundamentally an exercise in large-scale steel fabrication. The keel — the backbone of the ship running its full length — was laid first on the slipway. Then frames (ribs) were erected perpendicular to the keel, creating the skeleton that defined the hull shape. Steel plates were then welded to the frames, starting from the bottom and working upward, creating a watertight shell. The entire structure had to be precisely aligned and welded because any weakness in the hull could lead to catastrophic failure at sea.
After the hull was complete, it was launched — slid sideways into the water using grease-coated rails and gravity. Then came fitting-out: installing engines, generators, fuel tanks, cargo holds, crew quarters, navigation equipment, communication systems, safety equipment. A ship might spend four months under construction on the slipway and another six months in fitting-out before it was ready for sea trials and delivery.
---
"This is the Singapore order," Prasad said, gesturing at the hull under construction. "Scheduled delivery November 1973. We're on track."
"Can you start a second ship on this slipway once this one launches?" Karan asked.
"Yes," Prasad said. "This ship launches in June, clears the slipway by July. We could start keel-laying for a Shergill Maritime vessel in August."
"Do it," Karan said. "I want five ships total from this yard for Shergill Maritime. Delivery spread over twelve months starting March 1974."
They walked to Slipway Three, currently occupied by a tanker in final stages of completion — hull painted, superstructure erected, funnels in place, just awaiting final equipment installation.
"This delivers to Indian Oil next month," Desai said. "After delivery, the slipway is clear. We could start a Shergill Maritime build immediately."
"What's the capacity constraint?" Karan asked. "If you're building five ships over twelve months, that's aggressive overlapping."
"The constraint is workforce," Prasad said. "We have four hundred fifty workers currently. To run three slipways at full capacity with overlapping builds, we'd need approximately six hundred. We're recruiting, but skilled welders and fitters are in short supply."
"What would it take to train them?" Karan asked.
"We could set up an apprentice program," Prasad said. "Take people with basic welding skills, train them specifically for ship construction. Six months training, then they work under supervision for another six months before they're fully productive. But that means the first batch wouldn't be productive until early next year."
"Start the program now," Karan said. "Recruit one hundred apprentices, train them, have them ready for when the construction schedule gets heavy in late 1973 and 1974."
Prasad made notes.
They walked to the fitting-out pier, where a completed bulk carrier sat alongside, looking like an actual ship rather than a construction project — painted hull, loaded equipment, ready to go to sea.
"This is the Coal India vessel," Desai said. "Delivers in August. After this, we have capacity to prioritize Shergill Maritime builds."
Karan looked at the ship, considering.
It was strange to think that eighteen months from now, ships like this one would be carrying Shergill cargo under Shergill control, not SCI control, not at the mercy of delayed schedules and bureaucratic incompetence.
The vertical integration pattern again: identify the dependency, eliminate it, build the capability in-house.
It had worked for electricity (captive power plants), components (in-house precision manufacturing), semiconductors (ISMC), and now it would work for shipping.
Expensive? Yes. Twenty crore rupees was not insignificant.
But cheaper than the alternative of paying penalties, losing customers, and looking incompetent because critical business functions were outsourced to unreliable partners.
"One question," Karan said. "These ships you're building — they're good quality? They'll last twenty-five, thirty years of hard ocean service?"
"They're built to international standards," Desai said. "Lloyd's Register certification, which means they meet safety and construction requirements recognized globally. The steel quality is from Shergill Steel Division, so we control the input material. Welding is inspected at every stage. Engine systems are tested thoroughly. These ships will perform as well as anything built in Japan or Korea."
"Good," Karan said. "Because I don't want to build ships and then have them break down or get detained in foreign ports for quality issues. Shergill Maritime's reputation depends on these ships working reliably."
"They will," Prasad said with confidence. "We've delivered eight ships in the past two years. Not one has had a major failure. Our reputation as a builder is solid."
"Then keep it that way," Karan said.
---
They spent another hour touring the fabrication shops, the engine installation area, the electrical fitting workshops, the paint and finishing facility.
By noon, Karan had seen enough to be confident: the shipyard could deliver five good-quality ships on a reasonable timeline.
The rest was execution.
Charter vessels to cover immediate needs. Build the permanent fleet. Establish port operations. Recruit crews. Launch Shergill Maritime as a functioning shipping company.
All of it to solve a problem that shouldn't have existed in the first place — that the government's own shipping corporation was so incompetent that private industry had to bypass it entirely.
On the drive back to Vizag airport, Aditya asked: "Do you think SCI will retaliate? We're essentially taking business away from them."
"They can try," Karan said. "But they've lost business by being unreliable. If they want to compete, they should improve their service. If they complain to the government instead, we show the documentation — fourteen delayed shipments, forty-three lakh rupee penalties, ships that vanish in the Mediterranean with no communication."
"The government might pressure us to use SCI anyway," Aditya said. "Patriotic duty to support national carrier and all that."
"Then we show them Shergill Maritime is also a national carrier," Karan said. "Indian-flag ships, Indian crews, Indian ownership, paying Indian taxes. We're not using foreign ships. We're just using competent Indian ships instead of incompetent ones."
Aditya smiled slightly. "That's a good argument."
"It's a true argument," Karan said. "Which makes it better."
---
End of Chapter 112