Chapter 13- Power in Threads
30 April 1873
Location: Kolar Haveli, Courtyard Verandah
A gentle breeze whispered through the neem branches overhead, carrying the scent of sandalwood and warm cotton into the quiet courtyard. Ramrajan reclined on a low teak bench, a stack of merchant letters beside him. Surya sat nearby, eyes thoughtful, fingers tapping lightly on his slate—not scribbling, but calculating futures with each silent beat.
Shyam entered, ledger under his arm, sweat on his brow, determination in his stride.
> "Namaskara, Anna," he greeted quietly.
> "Come in, Shyam," Ramrajan said, offering his seat.
---
🧾 Three-Month Financial Report (Feb–Apr 1873)
> "Our total investment amounts to ₹37,700 across five southern factories," Shyam began, unfurling detailed pages.
1. Factory buildings – ₹10,000
Kolar, Travancore, Kochi, Hyderabad, Madras: between 40 to 80 workers per site.
2. Loom Customization – ₹8,800
Two German engineers contributed specialized gears, but all construction and assembly were done locally.
3. Tools & Dyeing Equipment – ₹3,200
Spinning drums, dye vats, cutting frames — all made by Mysore blacksmiths.
4. Worker Salaries (Feb–Apr) – ₹7,200
> "We paid average daily wages of 2 to 4 annas for unskilled labour, and up to 8 annas for skilled weavers—roughly ₹2–₹5 per month," Shyam explained .
5. Cotton Farmer Contracts – ₹4,000
Raw cotton secured from Bellary, Warangal, Coimbatore—paid in advance, beating British merchant offers.
6. Transport & Distribution – ₹3,000
Thirty carts operational, godowns in 12 towns—daily movement of bolts and fabric.
7. Shops, Signs & Advertising – ₹1,500
Multilingual signboards and storefronts in major towns.
---
💰 Summary
Total spent: ₹37,700
April revenue: ₹24,600
Profit: ₹7,300
Factory capacity usage: 74%
---
A stack of letters caught Ramrajan's attention.
> "What's this?" he asked.
> "Merchant letters—from Bombay, Nagpur, Agra, Amritsar. They've heard of Singham cloth. They say it's cheaper and softer than British imports."
Surya's voice was steady:
> "Then we should build factories there."
Ramrajan stepped toward the wall-mounted map, brushing his fingers across the northern princely regions:
> "We will—but not in British-controlled provinces. Too many risks: inspections, taxes, sabotage. Instead, we'll set up in princely states—the likes of Baroda, Gwalior, Rewa, Patiala."
He paused, eyes steady.
> "These rulers want prestige and revenue. We give them both: local factories that employ their people, make their courts proud—and don't stir British suspicion."
Surya nodded, silent but sure.
> "It's about money and influence," he thought, perfectly aware of the stakes. "Who controls cloth controls trade. Who controls trade controls power."
Ramrajan turned back to Shyam.
> "Prepare proposals. We approach the princes not as petitioners, but as partners—offering factories, profits, political capital."
A breeze rustled the curtains; looms hummed in the distance.
> "Let the British watch," Ramrajan said softly. "Soon, they'll realize it's not cotton that rules India. It's the cloth behind it—and Bharat is weaving her own throne."
Surya touched the edge of the map, tracing the borders of princely India.
> Threads woven into wealth. Power sewn into cloth.
---
2 May 1873
Location: Madras, British Residency Office
The early summer air in Madras was thick with humidity and tension. Ceiling fans turned lazily over oak desks, pushing warm air over neat stacks of ledgers and maps. In the upper chamber of the Residency Office, two British officials stood by the window, gazing out over Mount Road where once-loyal customers now shuffled toward a new storefront.
Across the street, the sign was unmistakable:
> "Singham & Sons – Woven in Bharat. Priced for Bharat."
The crowd outside the shop spilled onto the street—hawkers, clerks, women in crisp saris, even military porters. Everyone, it seemed, had come for cloth.
---
"We've lost twenty-seven percent of sales in just two months," said Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Bletchley, his voice tight with disbelief. He slammed a ledger shut. "In Madras city alone!"
"Calico, muslin, even dyed cotton bolts—unsold in our godowns," added Mr. Edwin Cartwright, chief trade officer for the East India Company's southern operations. He wiped his brow. "We're hemorrhaging rupees to these... these natives with looms."
> "And worst of it—they're not British-backed. No Scottish mill connection, no London financing. Entirely... desi," Bletchley spat the word.
---
The two stared across the street as a Singham & Sons delivery cart pulled up. Large bales of fabric were unloaded by strong-armed workers, each stamped:
> Made in Kolar – For the People of Bharat
---
📉 Internal British Merchant Report – April 1873:
Sales Drop (Madras City): 27.4%
Sales Drop (Madurai, Trichy, Salem): 18–22%
Lost Contracts: 9 merchant guilds withdrew supply orders.
Customer Migration: Middle-class and elite Tamil families shifting to Singham & Sons.
---
"We priced that muslin at ₹7. They're selling better quality at ₹5," muttered Cartwright. "Same story with cotton dhotis. We charge ₹1.2, they're giving it at ₹0.8. Even tailors are switching supply."
---
Bletchley opened a folder marked:
> Subject: Singham Family – Kolar, Mysore
> "This… is our problem," he said. "Ramrajan Singham. Former landholder. Now an industrialist. Funded five factories across southern India."
Cartwright raised a brow. "How did a family from Kolar manage this?"
"German engineering help. Local smiths. Cotton directly from farmers. And—get this—no loans from British banks."
Cartwright sat back, stunned.
"Then they're independent," he whispered. "Truly."
> "Worse," Bletchley said, "They're inspiring others. I've received reports from Calicut, Thanjavur, even Hyderabad. Indian merchants want their own mills. They're talking of 'swadeshi' production."
---
Silence fell between the two men.
The East India Company had crushed rebellions. Controlled trade. Manipulated kingdoms.
But this?
This was no sword.
It was a spindle.
> "If this spreads," Bletchley said coldly, "we'll lose the cloth empire in less than five years."
---
Cartwright looked out again, where a mother bargained cheerfully with a Singham store clerk.
"Find out more," he said. "About Kolar. About every relative of this Singham clan. Who funds them. Who protects them. If temples are involved, we'll call for inspections. If zamindars support them—we'll tighten land taxes."
> "If you cut their roots," he said, voice hardening, "the tree won't grow."
Bletchley nodded grimly.
They had fought sepoys before.
Now, they would fight threads.
---
Letters to the North
Mid-May, 1873
Location: Kolar Haveli, Main Study Room
The heavy monsoon clouds gathered far in the distance, casting long shadows over the hills of Kolar. Inside the haveli, the lamps had been lit early. The scent of sandalwood smoke drifted from a nearby incense burner as Ramrajan sat at a large rosewood desk, a detailed map of India spread before him.
Red wax seals marked the cities of Bombay, Agra, Amritsar, Nagpur, Lucknow, and others—each a potential seedbed for the next phase of Singham & Sons' industrial awakening.
Across the room, Shyam walked in holding a thick folder of notes bound in twine. He bowed with respect, placing it carefully on the table.
> "Anna, as you requested—two weeks of research," he said in fluent Kannada.
Ramrajan nodded and opened the folder. Dozens of handwritten pages revealed information painstakingly gathered by riders, letters, and merchant contacts across North India.
---
Shyam summarized aloud:
> "These princely states still maintain semi-autonomy under British suzerainty. Some are tightly controlled—like Gwalior and Patiala—where the British maintain strong military and financial grip. But others… others are different."
He pointed to Bundelkhand, parts of Awadh, and the textile zones of Nagpur and Amritsar.
> "These rulers are more open-minded. A few are patrons of learning, encouraging local industries, Sanskrit pathshalas, and even Muslim madrasas. Some courts host astronomers and mathematicians. They may support our cause."
Ramrajan leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The flicker in his eyes was not of a man thinking only of fabric—but of foundations.
> "If they have stable cotton supply… if their people are skilled… if their rulers still feel something for the soil of Bharat…" he said slowly, "then we must build there."
---
He took a fresh sheaf of handmade paper and began to write letters—one for each northern state Shyam had marked in green ink.
> "To His Highness the Raja of Bikaner..."
"To the Maharaja of Rewa..."
"To the Prince of Nagpur..."
"To the noble court of Awadh..."
"To the House of Holkar in Indore..."
Each letter was tailored to the court's pride, reminding them of their region's heritage—the weavers of Varanasi, the spinners of Surat, the looms of Punjab, the dye-artists of Gujarat—and offered partnership.
> "We do not ask for your wealth, only your will," Ramrajan wrote.
"Let your people spin their future in their own land. Let not your fields sell raw cotton only to import stitched shame."
---
Shyam watched as the ink dried.
> "Anna," he said, "the British merchants will not sit idle. These rulers may be afraid."
Ramrajan looked up and smiled faintly.
> "Then we must show them this is not just cloth—it is freedom disguised as fabric."
He stood, sealing each letter with a wax imprint of a lotus blooming over a loom—the emblem of Singham & Sons.
> "Send these by our fastest riders. Avoid British post offices. Use only local contacts. Let the word spread not from port to port, but from court to court."
---
As Shyam left the room with the letters bundled tightly, the first raindrops struck the stone window sill.
The south had already risen.
Now, the wind was shifting north.
...
The Looms Must Rise
20 May 1873
Kolar Haveli – Central Meeting Hall
The warm afternoon sun cast streaks of gold through the arched windows of the haveli. Ceiling fans spun lazily overhead, stirred not just by breeze, but by urgency. The air buzzed with the tension of growth—the kind that comes not from failure, but from overwhelming success.
Ramrajan sat at the head of a long table of carved teakwood, surrounded by factory heads, transport supervisors, merchants, and young clerks who shuffled notes and sales records.
Shyam stood near a ledger placed on a sandalwood stand. His forehead was marked with a faint line of sweat, not from the heat—but from the speed of change.
> "Anna," he began respectfully, "we've completed the second month of open sales. Demand has risen nearly 140% from our original forecast."
He flipped open the report. Neatly listed were volumes from Madras, Mysore, Kochi, Hyderabad, Travancore, and beyond.
> "We've sold more than 1.8 lakh metres of fabric across five regions in just six weeks. Daily walk-ins have tripled. Some shops run out by noon. Our agents say even middlemen are coming to buy for resale."
A murmur spread around the table. One clerk added quietly:
> "We're getting inquiries from Bombay, Nagpur, Agra, even Lahore. The cloth is spreading faster than our looms can spin."
---
The production manager rose next, clearly anxious.
> "We cannot maintain this pace. All five factories are running full-time—morning and night shifts. Even with overtime and rest rotations, the machines need more floor space. And the carts—many of them overloaded on bad roads. We're risking both breakdown and burnout."
A transport supervisor added:
> "In Mysore and Kochi, we've had to borrow bullock carts from traders just to meet weekly demand."
---
Ramrajan listened, arms folded. Then he slowly stood, his voice calm and deep.
> "So we have climbed the mountain," he said. "And now we see the next."
He looked around the room, making eye contact with each department head.
> "There is no glory in success if it breaks the spine of the workers. We must expand—not just to meet demand, but to honor the trust people have placed in our cloth."
---
He turned to Shyam.
> "Begin immediate extension work on all five factories—Kolar, Travancore, Kochi, Hyderabad, and Madras. Allocate funds from the reserve account. Hire more masons. Expand by at least one-third of current floor space."
Shyam nodded and made notes.
> "Also, double the number of carts and bullocks in our transport fleet. Use better wheels—we cannot afford delays on monsoon roads. And set up covered loading sheds near each shop."
Another pause, then Ramrajan added:
> "Start scouting land for new warehouses in Bombay, Agra, and Nagpur. We may not build factories there yet—but we must be ready when the time comes."
---
The room seemed lighter now. The burden of rapid success was being lifted—not ignored, but answered.
As the meeting ended and people began to leave, one elder merchant placed a hand over his heart and said softly:
> "This is the first time… in decades… I've seen an Indian brand not just succeed—but lead."
Ramrajan heard it, but said nothing. He simply turned toward the window, where smoke from distant factory chimneys rose in soft trails across the afternoon sky.
> The looms must rise, he thought. Not just in numbers—but in spirit.