The launch of the Bharat Connect phone was not a battle; it was a coronation. The strategy Sanjay had articulated in the boardroom unfolded with a precision that felt almost pre-ordained. The "semi-smart" device, with its vibrant color screen, week-long battery life, and the beloved, crystal-clear FM radio, hit a market segment no one else had truly mastered. The advertising campaign, built around the powerful slogan "Your India, Your Connection," featured farmers, students, and small shopkeepers, seamlessly weaving the product into the fabric of the nation's aspirational identity.
Harsh watched the initial sales reports from his office, the numbers climbing in a steep, satisfying curve. The twenty percent price advantage, secured by their vertical integration, was an insurmountable moat for competitors. They couldn't match his price without sacrificing their profit margins, and they couldn't match his "Made in India" story without the foundational truth of his semiconductor fab.
A month after the launch, the expected counter-attack from a consortium of rival electronics importers materialized. It wasn't a street fight with thugs or a public smear campaign; it was a sophisticated, legalistic assault. A formal petition was filed with the Competition Commission of India (CCI), alleging "predatory pricing" and "anti-competitive practices," claiming Harsh was using his government-backed monopoly in chips to strangle the wider electronics market.
Rustom Khan placed the legal document on Harsh's desk. "It's a predictable move. They are trying to force a regulatory slowdown, to bleed us with legal fees and bureaucratic inertia."
Harsh didn't even open the file. "And our response?"
"Already in motion," Khan replied, his demeanor that of a chess grandmaster who had seen the checkmate ten moves ago. "Our legal team, the most expensive and well-connected in the country, has filed a counter-petition. We are accusing them of forming a cartel to stifle genuine Indian innovation. Furthermore, the dossier I mentioned... its contents have been selectively communicated to the key officials overseeing the CCI case. The petitioners have suddenly become very, very quiet. I expect the case to be dismissed within the week."
It was defense not by denial, but by overwhelming, multi-layered dominance. Legal, financial, and political power operated in concert, a synchronized shield that turned away any challenge before it could even gather force.
The true victory, however, was not in deflecting attacks, but in the quiet, relentless expansion within. Deepak and Alexei presented him with the first working prototype of the Bharat-2 chip. It was a leap forward, a 32-bit processor capable of powering not just more advanced phones, but set-top boxes, point-of-sale systems, and a host of other devices. The knowledge, painstakingly extracted from the Soviet machines, was now yielding its own original fruit.
"Production can begin in Foundry-2 in ninety days," Deepak reported, a quiet pride in his voice. "We are no longer just replicating; we are innovating."
The final piece of Harsh's empire clicked into place during a meeting that was less a negotiation and more a formality. Representatives from a major public-sector bank, accompanied by a senior official from the Finance Ministry, sat across from him. They were not there to scrutinize his past, but to secure their future in his.
"Mr. Patel," the lead banker began, "the government's production-linked incentive scheme for semiconductors is now active. Given the Bharat Semiconductor Mission's... unparalleled position in this sector, we are prepared to offer a line of credit that will cover eighty percent of the capital expenditure for Foundry-3 and Foundry-4. The terms are, as you can imagine, exceptionally favorable."
It was the ultimate validation. The state was not just anointing him; it was becoming his investment partner. The very system that had once hunted him was now funding his expansion, tying its own success to his. The 150 crore of laundered money was now buried so deep under layers of legitimate government investment and roaring commercial success that it was archaeologically irrecoverable.
That evening, Harsh took a long, solitary walk through his campus. The scale of it was staggering. Foundry-1 hummed day and night. The construction of Foundry-2 was a symphony of cranes and steel. The offices of Bharat Electronics were lit up with a army of employees working to meet the insatiable demand for the Connect phone.
He stopped at a small, landscaped garden at the center of the campus. There, on a simple pedestal, encased in bulletproof glass, was the original, rusted soldering iron from the Bhuleshwar alcove. A plaque beneath it read: "The First Tool. The Power of an Idea."
He looked from the soldering iron to the gleaming fabs surrounding him. The journey was complete. The hustler was now a statesman of industry. The scammer was now a national champion. The boy who fought for every rupee was now a man who moved markets and shaped policy.
There were no more threats on the horizon. No more ghosts from the past. The summit he stood upon was not just high; it was unassailable. The empire was built, its foundations forged in the fires of his past and hardened into an indestructible future. Harsh Patel had not just reached the top; he had become the mountain itself. And from this height, the only possible direction was forward, into a legacy that would long outlive him.
(Chapter End)