Resolving Food Crisis

After giving Alisha access to his mansion and spending some time with her, Sanjay stepped out into the modern world to begin his mission.

His first task was to acquire enough food to sustain 50,000 people. That meant securing thousands of tons of supplies—rice, pulses, sugar, vegetables—all essentials that, when purchased in bulk, would immediately draw the attention of government regulators.

Food price inflation was a serious concern for the authorities. Buying in small quantities from multiple distributors would be tedious and inefficient. The only viable solution was to procure the supplies through a legitimate grocery distribution company.

A grocery distribution company served as the crucial middleman between manufacturers, wholesalers, and large-scale buyers. It purchased food in bulk, stored it in warehouses, and supplied retailers, restaurants, and hotels. Setting one up from scratch, however, would require multiple licenses—trade licenses, food safety approvals, and an extensive bureaucratic process.

Sanjay frowned. Setting up a new company would be a headache. But what if he didn't have to start from scratch?

A thought struck him.

"Iris, search through bank databases and find any grocery distribution company on the verge of bankruptcy nearby."

[Host, I have found several companies in financial distress. The best option is Evergreen Food Distributors, located in Kolkata. It is a mid-sized company with a loan burden of approximately five million rupees.]

A struggling company was exactly what he needed. Buying an existing business would save him time and effort, giving him instant access to licenses, suppliers, and infrastructure.

"Perfect. Iris, book a flight to Kolkata."

Within hours, Sanjay landed in Kolkata and stepped out of the airport. The city was alive with energy—honking cars, shouting vendors, the distant hum of a bustling metropolis. He hailed a cab and headed straight to Posta Bazaar, the largest wholesale food market in Eastern India.

As soon as he arrived, the chaotic symphony of the market engulfed him. Narrow lanes overflowed with people, carts stacked with sacks of grain, and the scent of fresh produce mixed with spices in the air. Merchants haggled loudly with buyers, hands waving, deals being struck in quick succession.

He maneuvered through the crowd, scanning the signs until he spotted a faded board that read: Evergreen Food Distributors.

The building was old, its exterior worn down by time and neglect. Inside, a dimly lit staircase led him to the third floor, where multiple distribution companies operated out of cramped offices. As he made his way through the corridor, brokers sprang into action, sensing a potential customer.

"Sir, we offer the best rates on bulk rice!" one man called out, stepping in front of him.

"Special discounts for new clients!" another chimed in, blocking his path.

A few grew bolder, even trying to grab his arm in a desperate bid to lure him into their offices. Sanjay sighed. He had expected this.

Brushing past the eager brokers, he finally reached the entrance of Evergreen Food Distributors. The company was on the brink of collapse—but for him, it was an opportunity waiting to be seized.

But seeing Sanjay they were not able to move him even a inch, they became scared and ran away. Sanjay finally reached the 3rd floor and the office was around the corner.

Sanjay went in the dark corner and opened the door, the door opened with a creak sound. Seeing that someone was coming an man in 50s stood up from the chair we was sitting. 

The office was dimly lit, with a single flickering tube light casting long shadows on the cracked walls. Old wooden cabinets lined one side, their paint peeling, revealing years of neglect. A dusty ceiling fan groaned as it spun slowly, barely moving the stale air.

The man in his 50s stood up from his creaky chair as Sanjay entered. His frail figure, sunken cheeks, and tired eyes spoke of exhaustion—not just of the body but of the soul. He was dressed in a faded white shirt, its collar stained and wrinkled, as if he had stopped caring about his appearance long ago.

"You must be here for the company," the man said, his voice rough like someone who had spent too many nights awake.

" Ramesh Gupta ," extending his hands.

" Sanjay Sharma ," shook his hands. 

Sanjay took a seat. The chair wobbled under his weight. He glanced around the room. A rusty wall clock ticked sluggishly, and stacks of unpaid bills and old invoices covered the wooden desk.

"Why are you selling?" Sanjay asked.

The man sighed heavily, as if the words themselves were too much to bear. He ran a trembling hand through his thinning hair before speaking.

"I started this company fifteen years ago with my wife," he began. His voice was low, distant, as if he was speaking to the past rather than to Sanjay. "It was never big, but we managed to make a decent living. We were happy."

He picked up a faded photograph from the desk—a woman in a simple saree, smiling, holding a little girl in her arms. The girl couldn't have been more than five years old.

"But five years ago," Ramesh swallowed hard, "my wife fell sick. It happened so fast. One day she had a fever… the next, the doctors were saying she needed urgent treatment. I didn't have that kind of money."

He placed the photo down gently, as if afraid it would break. "So, I took a loan from the bank. 5 million . I thought I could repay it once she recovered. I thought—" his voice cracked, and he looked away. "But she didn't make it."

The room fell silent except for the slow, rhythmic ticking of the clock. The sound seemed to drag on endlessly.

Sanjay's eyes shifted toward the small cot in the corner of the office. A thin blanket was neatly folded on it, along with a tiny pair of pink sandals beside it.

He frowned. "Do you… live here?"

Ramesh let out a bitter chuckle. "After my wife passed, I couldn't keep up with the payments. The bank took my house. We had nowhere to go. So yes, this office became our home."

A soft rustling noise came from behind a curtain near the cot. A little girl, no older than six, peeked out. She had large, tired eyes and messy hair tied into a loose ponytail. She clutched a small cloth doll tightly.

"Papa…?" she whispered.

Ramesh quickly wiped his eyes and turned toward her with a forced smile. "It's okay, beta. Go back to sleep."

The girl hesitated, glancing at Sanjay with a mix of curiosity and fear before stepping back behind the curtain.

Sanjay remained silent. He had come here for a business deal, but now, the weight of the situation felt heavier than expected.

Ramesh sighed and forced a tired smile. "Sorry, Sanjay, you had to see this. But let's talk about business first," he said, trying to sound professional despite the exhaustion in his voice. "I'm looking for about 10 million rupees to sell the company."

Sanjay raised an eyebrow. 10 million?

Ramesh quickly continued, sensing hesitation. "Although the company doesn't have much to offer, we still have all the necessary licenses and strong connections with suppliers. With a little funding, the business can be restarted quickly."

His voice carried a hint of desperation. He knew he was asking for too much. In reality, his company wasn't worth even 2 million now. Over the years, he had lost multiple clients and contracts. Every investor who had shown interest before backed out once they saw the company's state. No one was even willing to offer 5 million—the amount he owed the bank.

Within weeks, the company would be auctioned. And if the auction price didn't cover the full loan, the remaining amount would still fall on Ramesh. He'd have to pay up or go to jail.

He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let his daughter go to an orphanage. He had already lost his wife. Losing his daughter too… he wouldn't survive it.

Ramesh exhaled sharply. He had one last chance. "I have no choice, Mr. Sanjay. The bank is breathing down my neck. If I don't sell, they'll seize everything. At least this way… I can get something. Maybe find a small place for my daughter."

Sanjay looked at the man, then at the tiny pink sandals on the floor.

He could walk away. Find another company. A better deal.

But at that moment, he knew he wouldn't.

Sanjay leaned forward, his fingers tapping lightly on the wooden desk. His voice was calm yet firm. "7 million."

Ramesh blinked. "W-What?"

"I'll buy the company for 7 million rupees. That should be enough to clear your debts and start fresh."

Ramesh's mouth opened slightly, his mind struggling to process what he had just heard. 7 million. It was more than he had hoped for. More than anyone else had even considered.

But before he could speak, Sanjay continued, "And one more thing."

Ramesh tensed. The condition. There's always a condition.

"I want you to stay," Sanjay said. "Work for me as a manager. 500,000 rupees per month."

Silence.

Ramesh looked at him in shock. His lips trembled, but no words came out.

"You built this business from the ground up. You have experience, contacts, and you know the market," Sanjay explained. "I need someone I can trust to run the operations. And…" His eyes flickered toward the curtain where the little girl had disappeared. "Your daughter needs stability, not another move."

Ramesh felt his legs weaken, and he slumped back into his chair. He hadn't expected this. Not even in his wildest dreams.

He swallowed hard. "Why… why would you do this?"

Sanjay shrugged. "Let's just say I don't like wasting good talent."

Tears welled up in Ramesh's eyes. He quickly wiped them away, nodding furiously. "T-Thank you… Mr. Sanjay. Thank you."

Sanjay stood up and extended his hand. "Let's finalize the deal."

This time, when Ramesh shook his hand, it wasn't just relief on his face. It was hope.

The deal was finalized quickly. Sanjay wasted no time and transferred 7 million rupees to Ramesh's personal account and an additional 80 million to the company's account as investment capital.

Ramesh stared at the transaction confirmation on his phone, his breath hitching. The numbers didn't feel real. For years, he had been drowning in debt, barely holding on. Now, in an instant, his burden was lifted. His hands trembled as he placed the phone down, and for the first time in years, a genuine smile formed on his lips.

Sanjay watched the change in the man's expression and leaned forward. "Ramesh, I need something from you."

Ramesh straightened, his business instincts kicking in. "Of course, Mr. Sanjay. What do you need?"

Sanjay pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it over. "I need all these food supplies within a day. Can you manage it?"

Ramesh took the list and quickly scanned through it. Rice, pulses, sugar, vegetables—nothing out of the ordinary. These were staple items, easy to source in bulk. He nodded with confidence. "Yes, I can get these. My suppliers can have them ready within a day."

Sanjay gave an approving nod. That was one problem solved. But there was something else he needed to be sure of. "Are there any government restrictions on buying this quantity?"

Ramesh shook his head. "No, this amount isn't considered excessive. Back in my prime, I used to supply these quantities daily to multiple stores across Kolkata."

Sanjay raised an eyebrow. "And what about transporting it? Any legal issues?"

Ramesh hesitated for a moment before explaining, "For local distribution, there's no issue. We already have the licenses needed to purchase and sell in bulk. But…" He glanced at Sanjay, gauging his intent. "If you plan to take this out of the country, that's another matter. Border regulations are strict. Without government permission, exporting food in large amounts is not allowed."

Sanjay leaned back in his chair, a small smirk playing on his lips. "That won't be a problem," he murmured to himself.

With this, a major hurdle was cleared. The plan was falling into place.