Chapter 60 – A Million Sparks
December 1983 | Singh Company Headquarters, Lucknow
A soft winter chill crept through the alleys of old Lucknow, curling around the wide courtyards and tiled rooftops of the Singh family home and offices. Steam rose from small clay cups of chai held in the calloused hands of factory workers. The scent of fried kachoris wafted in from the side streets. Fog clung to the city like a thick blanket, making the newly painted Singh Company Headquarters glow gently in the diffused morning light.
Inside, a different kind of heat simmered — excitement.
Scene: The Morning Meeting
In the glass-walled central conference room, Ajay Singh sat at the head of the long rosewood table, flipping through a hand-stitched brown leather folder filled with sales reports. Bharat sat beside him, his hands curled around a warm steel tumbler of milk he had forgotten to drink. The table was full — engineers, marketing leads, logistics heads, and a few young coders with nervous, eager eyes.
Ravi, the head of Sales and Distribution, adjusted his maroon sweater and pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose.
"Sir," he began, barely containing his smile, "as of December 18th, we have crossed 1,042,000 units sold of the Singh Series 1."
There was a stunned silence. Then Raghav let out a low whistle from across the table.
"Ek million? India mein? Wah bhai wah. (One million? In India? Incredible.)"
Ajay leaned back in his chair, blinking slowly. "Private and public sector combined?"
Ravi nodded. "Yes, sir. Roughly 52% went to the private sector — elite and middle-class families, small businesses, and a few colleges. The rest were bulk orders from government offices, municipal libraries, and educational boards."
The door creaked open. Dadi peeked in, carrying a steel tray of aloo-parathas.
"Kya hua? Computer bik gaya ya sarkar gir gayi? (What happened? You sold all the computers or the government fell?)"
Everyone laughed. Bharat turned to her with a grin. "Nahi Dadi, India ka pehla asli computer ek million se zyada bik gaya. (No Dadi, India's first true computer has sold over a million units.)"
Dadi's face lit up as she set the tray down. "Toh aaj parathe double ghee ke. (Then today, extra ghee on the parathas.)"
Scene: The Growth Curve
Ravi clicked the remote. A projector displayed a curved graph. Sales had started slow in early 1983, rising steadily with media attention and word of mouth. By July, when the Delhi and Calcutta expos had showcased the Singh Series 1, sales spiked.
"By September, business houses began ordering in clusters," Ravi continued. "October saw a wave of interest from educational institutions, and in November, we received inquiries from NRIs in Fiji, Mauritius, and even a Bengali cultural center in London."
Ajay raised an eyebrow. "They want to use it for what?"
"Language learning and cultural preservation, sir. The Hindi-English OS is our edge."
A junior engineer, Meenal, chimed in. "Sir, people love typing in Hindi natively. Devanagari fonts have made it personal."
"No one wants to write 'Namaste' in Roman script anymore," Bharat said, chuckling.
The laughter around the table was warm.
"Sir," Meenal added, "some schools are even adding basic computing into their syllabus next year."
Ajay nodded slowly. "This is a turning point. But we cannot let our quality slip."
Bharat's voice was calm but thoughtful. "And maybe it's time to think about networking these computers."
"Networking?" asked Raghav.
"Like connecting them together?"
"Yes," Bharat said. "One day, computers will talk to each other — across rooms, cities, even continents. Like a digital nervous system."
Ajay smiled. "Let's take India into that future. Step by step."
Scene: The Family Room
That evening, the success still echoed through the halls of the Singh home. The family gathered for dinner — warm rotis, creamy dal, and matar-paneer spread across the long dining table. The aroma of jeera rice filled the room.
Ashok chased Meena with a spoon while Parul tried to stop them. Laughter rose like steam.
Kavita sat beside Vandana, cradling her youngest daughter, Deepika. "I heard the news. One million units."
"One million and counting," Ajay said, pouring water.
Colonel Rajvir, Kavita's father, now semi-retired and visiting the family, nodded slowly. "When I was in the NDA, we were still using rotary phones. This is... remarkable."
Dadaji leaned back. "In my father's time, typewriters were a luxury. Now children write poems on machines smaller than a suitcase."
Dadi scoffed. "Bas, bas. Just make sure they don't spoil their eyes staring at these screens."
"Dadi," Bharat said, taking a sip of warm water, "they said the same thing about books once."
Everyone chuckled.
Later, in the living room, Bharat sat cross-legged with the children. Meena, Ashok, and Parul gathered around a Singh Series 1 PC set up in the corner.
"Yeh kaise kaam karta hai, bhaiya? (How does this work, brother?)" Meena asked.
"Dekho," Bharat pointed at the keyboard. "This is how we type. Press this... it makes this letter. Now watch this."
He typed "नमस्ते" and the word appeared in crisp Devanagari on the black-and-white screen.
Gasps of wonder.
"One day," Bharat said, "you'll use computers for everything — writing, drawing, learning, even talking to people far away."
Ashok tilted his head. "Even to America?"
Bharat nodded. "Haan. Even America. Even to the moon someday."
As the children giggled, Dadaji walked in with a woolen shawl around his shoulders.
"Bharat," he said quietly. "What do you see ahead?"
Bharat paused. He was still. His eyes flickered with thoughts he didn't speak aloud.
> I've seen what's coming — touch screens, wireless signals, data traveling faster than light. Artificial intelligence. People talking to machines, living through them. But not everyone will benefit. Only the prepared will rise.
He looked up at his grandfather.
"I see a time when India becomes a technology leader," he said softly. "But we must move now. We must prepare everyone — not just cities, but villages too."
Dadaji's eyes glistened. "Toh sapne mein mehnat daal do, beta. (Then pour effort into the dream, son.)"
Scene: Global Inspirations
Later, in the drawing room, Ajay and Bharat shared chai.
"Did you hear about Apple's Lisa?" Bharat asked.
Ajay nodded. "Expensive. And out of reach for most Indians."
"Exactly. We don't need a Lisa. We need a Lakshmi. Affordable, reliable, Indian."
Ajay smiled, stirring his tea. "Bharat, where do you think this is going?"
Bharat looked out the window. A street vendor shouted in the distance, selling roasted peanuts.
"Computers will become homes, schools, offices. We'll teach through them, heal through them, maybe even govern with them."
Ajay's brow furrowed. "Govern?"
"Yes. Someday, people will vote, protest, and even fight injustice through screens. That's why we must build strong, honest systems now."
Ajay placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Then we will. For you. For your generation."
Scene: Shipment and Promise
By December 29th, the warehouse hummed with activity. Dozens of workers loaded cartons of Singh Series 1 PCs onto trucks. Each box bore the emblem:
"Singh Series 1 – भारत का कंप्यूटर (India's Computer)"
A photographer from a local paper snapped a group photo. A young laborer shouted, "Ek million aur ek sapna poora! (One million and one dream fulfilled!)"
Ajay stood beside Bharat, watching.
"This is just the beginning," he said. "We've given India a tool. What she writes with it… is up to her."
Bharat nodded. But his mind was far ahead — to artificial intelligence, to wireless communication, to satellites, and to the internet.
> If we can guide this right, he thought, India won't just be a user of global technology. She'll be the mother of it.
As the last truck rolled out into the foggy Lucknow street, its exhaust mingling with the cold evening air, Bharat whispered to himself:
"Ab yeh spark, ek roshni banegi. (This spark will become a light.)"
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