Chapter 35: The Voice of the People
4 June 1983 – Singh Technologies, Lucknow
The rain had returned, heavier than before. The skies rolled open above the Gomti river, and fat droplets pelted the tiled roof of Singh Technologies. Inside the Media Wing, the corridors were warmer now—not just with monsoon humidity, but with something else.
Hope.
The ten-day seminar had ended, but its effects still echoed across the city and beyond. Letters, telegrams, and personal messengers arrived daily. Feedback poured in—not from executives or investors, but from artists, students, engineers, and filmmakers who had touched the tools, used them, and found something meaningful.
The courtyard had grown quiet again, but the war room had awakened.
Inside the conference room, a large chart covered the wall: hand-written reviews, typed notes, even pencil sketches showing suggestions, faults, and dreams.
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Feedback – Truth from the Field
Ajay stood at the head of the long wooden table, eyes scanning the pinned papers.
"Let's start."
Anant read the list aloud, voice calm and measured:
> "Sound clarity on the music console is superb. Bass needs better insulation.
Editing tool worked well, but visual preview is slow. Can we improve response time?
Voice of India library is excellent for regional projects. Please add more tribal dialects.
Camera dolly is smooth. Works well on hard ground, but shakes on mud paths."
Sneha added, flipping through a folder:
> "Playback vocalists want a simpler mixer—just two knobs. They don't need ten features. Just clean sound. Fast. Affordable."
Rahul chimed in, pointing at a telegram:
> "Doordarshan Lucknow said CineEdit is promising. They want to test it on a regional documentary."
Ajay folded his arms. "So the verdict is: the tools are good—but too professional for daily users."
Bharat, seated quietly in the corner, nodded.
"They're right," he said. "Artists need power. But civilians need simplicity."
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The Middle-Class Barrier
Anant raised a hard truth.
"Our current models—₹3,000 for the editing system, ₹1,500 for Swaranjali, ₹2,000 for the dolly camera rig. That's affordable… for studios. Not for schoolteachers. Not for a family who earns ₹600 a month."
Silence filled the room.
Ajay looked toward the rain outside. "Then we break the model."
"How?" Sneha asked.
Bharat looked up. "We create smaller versions. One feature at a time. Not for art. For life."
Everyone turned.
He explained:
> "Instead of selling a full editing setup… offer a basic cut-paste playback unit for ₹400.
Instead of a full audio console… sell a voice recorder with reverb button for ₹250.
Instead of all light domes… sell a clip-on sunlight diffuser for ₹100."
"Let them choose what they need," he said. "One tool. One purpose. One dream at a time."
Ajay leaned forward. "Now that… we can build."
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The Unexpected Offer – A Cricket Connection
That afternoon, as the rain paused and the garden filled with the scent of neem and earth, a visitor arrived: Rajat Bhushan, a young sports journalist and part-time documentarian who had attended the seminar's last day.
He walked into the lab with a soaked satchel and a grin.
"I have an idea," he said, shaking hands.
Ajay welcomed him in. "You tested our equipment, right?"
Rajat nodded. "Loved the camera dolly. Sharp angles, smooth pans—even better than the imported U-Matic I used in Bombay."
Then he pulled out a folded proposal.
"Why not sponsor a live field shoot? My team is covering India's cricket tour next month. If your camera can follow action under pressure, real sun, real noise—it'll prove everything."
Ajay blinked. "You want us to… sponsor the shoot?"
"Just the camera rig," Rajat smiled. "I'll give you full credit. And—if we time this right—we could even ask Doordarshan to air portions of it. They love anything 'indigenously made.' Especially after the seminar buzz."
Anant looked thoughtful. "That would be national visibility."
Sneha added, "If the footage is crisp… it could change everything."
Bharat spoke slowly. "Cricket… isn't just a game. It's how people dream. If they see our tools there—they'll believe."
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Marketing Planning – Reaching the Nation
By evening, the team had gathered for an impromptu strategy session.
A chalkboard was filled with ideas:
Launch campaign name: "Tools for Bharat"
Product line split: Pro-Level + Civilian Models
Pricing tiers: ₹100 to ₹3,000 range
Promotion ideas:
• Sponsor World Cup tour footage
• Public demo van (moving display in UP & Bihar)
• Voice Library CDs to AIR regional stations
• Collaboration with schools for basic equipment loans
Rahul tapped the board. "We need one clear message."
Ajay stood. "Let's keep it simple."
He picked up the chalk and wrote:
> "Made in India. Built for India. Affordable for All."
They all nodded.
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A Quiet Evening – Seeds Beneath the Rain
Later that night, as the fans hummed overhead and the corridors slowly emptied, Bharat stood once again near the window, notebook in hand.
He had sketched a tiny version of the CineEdit system—just one screen, two buttons, and a dial.
> "Edit. Play. Start over."
He wrote:
> "We must never forget that behind every film, every sound—there's someone who never had a chance before."
The rain outside had started again, but softer now—like a lullaby.
And in that quiet, the seed of something even greater began to take root.