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February 8, 1972
Pratap Residence, Malabar Hill, Bombay. (2:00 AM)
It was 2:00 AM at Rudra's place in Malabar Hill, and his big oak table was completely covered in maps. We're talking city zones, police boundaries, and union territories instead of the usual high-tech blueprints.
Balwant was standing by the window, rhythmically slapping a heavy wooden stick against his hand. He had spent the last three hours getting the security team ready, and he was totally pumped for action.
"We've got eighty guys on standby, boss!" Balwant said, sounding eager. "If Mahajan's hired mob even tries to touch the factory gates tomorrow, we'll take them down before they can strike a match!"
Rudra just sat in his leather chair, resting his chin on his hands. He looked at Balwant, then over at his new strategy guy, Ashwin.
Ashwin looked totally out of place next to the tough bodyguard. Instead of a weapon, he was holding a stack of stamped government papers.
"Balwant," Ashwin said gently but firmly. "If you send eighty armed guys to the gates, Mahajan wins."
Balwant glared at him. "Well, if I don't, the factory burns down, man! Do you know how these radical unions work? They throw rocks and beat people up!"
"I know all about them," Ashwin replied smoothly. "And that's exactly what Mahajan wants! He already talked to his buddies in Delhi. The local cops have orders to just sit back and watch. The second your guards fight back, it becomes a 'violent dispute.' The police will step in, lock down the factory for public safety, and we lose our license!"
Ashwin turned to Rudra. "We can't fight muscle with muscle. We have to fight them with paper."
Rudra's eyes lit up. He loved this. "Tell us your plan, Ashwin."
Ashwin pointed to the map. "The radical union has a big rival—the moderate union. Their leader, Bhaurao, is pretty desperate for a win right now. I met with him yesterday and made a nice donation to their welfare fund. In return, Bhaurao agreed to host a huge 'Technology and Employment Rally' at the exact same time and place!"
Balwant frowned. "Wait, so two mobs instead of one?"
Rudra finally smiled. "Not a mob, Balwant. A parade!"
"Exactly!" Ashwin nodded. "I got official city permits for a peaceful celebration. When Mahajan's rioters show up, they won't find a fight. They'll find a massive, government-approved party celebrating all the jobs we're bringing to Bombay!"
Rudra stood up and looked out the window. He was so tired of playing by the old rules. "Balwant, tell your men to stand down. Keep them inside to protect the machines, but nobody steps outside. Tomorrow, we let Ashwin work his magic."
February 8, 1972. 7:30 AM.
Pratap Electronics, Malad.
At 7:30 AM, the factory in Malad was tense. Inside the pristine white walls, Homi was nervously pacing the clean-room, worrying about the shiny new Japanese machines. Outside, trouble was brewing.
A block away, a crowd started chanting loudly against Pratap Electronics. A sea of red flags appeared through the morning smog. There were about five hundred angry guys, led by a fiery leader named Kelkar with a megaphone and a thick wooden stick.
Near the factory gates, three police jeeps were parked loosely. Inspector Shirke was just sipping his morning tea, waiting for the inevitable fight to break out so he could lock the place down.
Kelkar raised his megaphone.
"Listen up! This factory is stealing our jobs with foreign machines! Don't let anyone inside! Block the gates!"
The angry mob rushed forward, expecting a line of terrified security guards.
Instead, they heard trumpets!
From the other end of the street, five brightly painted buses rolled right past the police barricade and parked in front of the gates, completely blocking the mob.
Kelkar lowered his megaphone, totally confused. Inspector Shirke almost dropped his tea!
The bus doors hissed open, and hundreds of men poured out. But they weren't holding rocks. They were holding massive, colorful banners!
"WELCOME PRATAP ELECTRONICS!" "WE SUPPORT TECHNOLOGY!" "JOBS FOR TOMORROW!"
Over eight hundred rival union workers flooded the street, forming a cheerful human wall. A brass band hopped out and started playing a loud, upbeat marching tune, completely drowning out the angry mob's chants!
Kelkar was furious. He marched up to the front, his face turning red. "Bhaurao! You sold out to the big bosses!"
Bhaurao, wearing a huge garland of flowers, just laughed. "We're celebrating the future, man! This place is going to create thousands of jobs! Are you against people getting work?"
The crowd cheered, the band played louder, and women even started handing out sweets to the thoroughly confused police officers!
Inspector Shirke hurried over to the gates, totally out of his depth. He marched up to Ashwin, who was standing there calmly with a clipboard.
"What is this circus?!" Shirke barked. "This is an illegal gathering!"
Ashwin just adjusted his glasses and pulled out a stamped paper. "Good morning, Inspector! Actually, this is a fully permitted municipal rally. As you can see, there's no violence here. Just a celebration."
Shirke stared at the totally legitimate stamp. He looked over at the angry mob, who were now just standing around awkwardly. You can't really start a riot against a brass band and people handing out sweets!
"Oh, and if Kelkar's men try to disrupt our peaceful party," Ashwin added coolly, "I trust you'll arrest them for disturbing the peace?"
Shirke was stuck. He couldn't lock down the factory because there was no fight! Kelkar realized he'd been completely outsmarted. He threw his stick to the ground in disgust and yelled for his men to fall back.
February 8, 1972. 10:00 AM.
The Mahajan Estate, Malabar Hill.
Around 10:00 AM over in Malabar Hill, Arun Mahajan was enjoying a soft-boiled egg in his beautiful rose garden. He was just waiting for the cops to call and tell him the factory was shut down.
When the phone rang, he answered with a smug smile. "Is it sealed?"
"Sir... we have a problem," Inspector Shirke's nervous voice came through the line. "There was no riot. Pratap's guys didn't fight back."
Mahajan frowned. "What? Didn't Kelkar get the crowd going?"
"He tried, Sir! But Pratap hired the rival union. They threw a massive rally instead! They had permits, a band, and photographers! If I tried to shut it down, the news would have destroyed us for attacking a peaceful parade. Kelkar had to back off."
Mahajan slammed the phone down so hard he snapped his silver spoon in half! He had expected a street fight, but he'd been completely outplayed by permits and good PR. For the first time in thirty years, the king of Bombay's industries felt vulnerable. Rudra wasn't just some upstart; he knew how to use the system against them.
The Aftermath
February 8, 1972. 11:30 AM.
The Pratap Residence, Malabar Hill.
Back at Rudra's place, the system notification popped up in his mind, confirming the amazing victory and boosting his reputation.
Ashwin walked into the study, looking exhausted but thrilled. "The crowds are gone, Sir! The union leaders got paid, and Homi has officially started the first test run. The factory is fully up and running!"
Rudra poured a glass of sparkling water and handed it to Ashwin. "You did amazing today, Ashwin. You proved that a piece of paper can hit harder than a weapon. Mahajan is probably sitting in his garden right now realizing his old tricks don't work anymore."
Ashwin took a sip. "Thanks! But Mahajan is an old tiger. He won't stop here. He might try to cut off our supplies or audit our offshore accounts next."
"I know," Rudra smiled dangerously. He pressed a button on his intercom. "Raghu. Come in."
Raghu walked in holding a thick folder and set it on the table.
"Mahajan thinks he's fighting a defensive war," Rudra said, tapping the folder. "He doesn't know that while he was watching our factory gates, my intelligence guys were digging into his chemical plants over in Gujarat."
Rudra looked at his two top guys. "Mahajan wanted to show us his power. Tomorrow, we show him ours. Ashwin, read that folder. Get ready to write a very polite, but very devastating, blackmail letter."
Thank you so much for reading!
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