The air was thick with the scent of wet earth, a reminder that India was not merely a place of change—it was an entity in itself, constantly evolving, teeming with potential and struggle. The streets around me were a far cry from the organized chaos of Silicon Valley. The chaotic buzz, the smells of spices and raw energy, the buildings that seemed half-formed or scattered haphazardly, everything had a kind of rugged charm, an urgency that tugged at my core.
Yet, there was also an unmistakable sense of constraint. As I walked through the narrow lanes of Mumbai, I felt a gnawing truth settle inside me. The world I knew was the future for them. My future. I could see it, but no one else could yet. I'd come from a place where entrepreneurship and technology had risen to stratospheric heights. Here, a capitalist dream was strangled by decades of bureaucratic red tape and rigid state control. The narrative was changing, slowly but surely, but the pace—no, the mere thought of waiting for these seismic shifts to happen—was unbearable.
And I was the catalyst.
I fumbled for the most recent list in my head—emerging trends in technology, commerce, communication, and media from the future. With a sense of urgency, I darted through the lanes until I found myself staring up at a modest sign outside a small shop: "Electronics Importer". The time to jump-start the Indian tech industry had arrived. But how?
"Should I invest in consumer tech right away?" I mumbled to myself, trying to be pragmatic, "Should I build a platform like Amazon, or should I focus on telecommunication networks like… no, I've got it. Software. I'll introduce computers to these people. Make them see it in their daily life first."
But I had to act fast. A pivotal factor in altering this country's economic destiny would be reaching the right audience—the emerging middle class, workers from burgeoning industries. They needed access to technology that felt familiar but pushed them toward new directions.
I noticed a rundown office building nearby, a relic from a different era but one that offered hope: Bhagwati Electronics. They dealt with early technologies like televisions and radios—primitive relics compared to the advanced machines I was used to, but it was a start.
I walked toward the door, greeted by a bell that jingled on entry. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of old cables and machinery. The place was cluttered but not without the hum of mechanical ambition. A tired old man with glasses squinted at me as I approached the counter.
"You come to fix something?" His Hindi was accented with a distinct Marathi cadence.
"I need to buy something," I said. His eyebrows arched, and he leaned forward, clearly unsure. I wasn't dressed like the regular shop-goer. Most people here wore the worn shirts and pants of workers just scraping by.
The man's skepticism shifted as I caught him looking at my hands—professionally manicured nails that reflected the wealth of another world.
"I don't sell what you need," he said, eyeing me carefully.
"Perhaps," I answered, "But I am looking to change things. Introduce something new."
His look didn't change, but it intrigued me. This was my first challenge: to sell an idea instead of a product. India's mindset wasn't shaped by consumerism the way the West had been—it was born out of practicality, out of necessity. If I was going to introduce anything that could push forward the digital revolution, it needed to feel not just necessary—but immediate.
"How familiar are you with computers?" I asked. He raised his chin as if my question was a personal affront. "There's an opportunity here that will make your business thrive. Not radios. Not TVs. Computers. Small-scale ones that will empower people."
He laughed in my face, clearly more entertained by the thought than interested.
"Don't mock me, kid. Computers? No one needs that here, not when we have the things people want already. They don't need more gadgets. This is India."
A sting of frustration hit me—how naïve he was. How tethered to the past. The same way people in 2023 cling to irrelevant trends while I watch the future slip away, here, in the 1980s, the future hadn't even shown its face yet.
But maybe... maybe I was too hasty. Maybe he represented India itself: stagnant, capable, but locked behind an iron wall. They didn't even know yet that they could fly.
"Maybe not today," I told him with quiet intensity, "But someday soon. And when that time comes, this place will be your history. Mark my words—computers will power everything. And if you don't get in now, you'll watch as others take the lead and crush you."
His laughter faded into thin air. Something told me the words had planted a seed—he didn't believe me now, but he might, just might, remember them years later. Or I hoped he would.
I was no longer going to wait for the future to unfold naturally. There was more to be done—and quicker than the world was ready for.
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Later that evening, I sat alone in a corner café, examining every small detail of the day. So much had changed in such a short time. My goal was clear now—to alter India's approach to technology, not by waiting for a revolution, but by actively sparking it. The tech titans in the west had all gotten it right, but here, in India, they didn't even know where to begin. And that's where I could make my move.
There was a reason this country was stagnating. The government's iron grip on industry, the cronyism within large, state-controlled businesses, and the economic structures that still dated back to colonial times: all of it needed disrupting.
The world wasn't ready for the digital age, but India could be.
I pulled out my notepad and started making notes. It was time for the first step—a venture that could introduce the machine era quietly, without drawing too much attention from those who were comfortable with a slower pace. A small, locally owned tech company, a discrete product line, and most importantly, a clientele who could begin to shape the future in their own way.
As I finished writing, I looked up at the bustling city around me. The streetlights flickered softly, casting a glow on the pedestrians walking through the streets, oblivious to the future I was about to create.
Change could be like that—silent, unnoticed, but inevitable.
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End of Chapter 2