The First Move

September 10, 2010

Mumbai, Delhi, and Global Markets

The news spread like wildfire, shaking the industrial and political landscape alike. The 20% export duty on Indian steel had been implemented without warning, its consequences rolling through international trade corridors, corporate boardrooms, and government offices like an unstoppable force.

The government's official stance was clear—the measure was designed to stabilize the domestic steel market and prevent monopolization—but behind closed doors, everyone knew the truth. This wasn't about protecting Indian steel. This was an orchestrated ambush, a precision strike aimed at one company and one company only—Eastern Earth Steel.

For months, it had been an anomaly in the steel industry, rising at an unnatural speed, disrupting supply chains that had been built over decades. Established players like Titan Steel and Bharat Alloys had spent years cultivating relationships, lobbying officials, and maneuvering through regulatory loopholes to secure their dominance. Then, out of nowhere, a new entity had emerged, undercutting their prices, producing higher-quality steel, and expanding its influence at an alarming rate.

They had seen it coming. They had tried to slow it down. But when nothing worked, they had turned to the one weapon they knew they could wield with absolute power—government intervention.

The export tax had been their answer. And it had worked.

Within hours of its implementation, Eastern Earth Steel's international pricing skyrocketed. Before the tax, it had been selling steel at $560 per ton, making it the most affordable high-grade steel on the market. Now, with the 20% increase, the cost per ton had jumped to $672—putting it well above the market rates of its closest competitors.

China reacted first. Within forty-eight hours, Beijing imposed a 15% import duty on all Indian steel, stating that the "sudden policy shifts in India have made its steel supply unstable and risky for large-scale infrastructure projects." The move effectively cut off Eastern Earth Steel from the Chinese market, allowing BaoSteel, China's largest state-backed steel producer, to reclaim its position as the preferred supplier.

Europe followed quickly, with Brussels imposing a 12% "anti-dumping" duty, citing concerns over "price manipulation and lack of long-term stability in India's steel exports." Even the United States, which had previously shown interest in Eastern Earth's affordable steel, quietly raised tariffs by 10%, ensuring that American buyers would remain loyal to domestic manufacturers.

The final numbers were devastating.

In China, Eastern Earth's steel now cost $773 per ton, while BaoSteel remained at $610. No company in its right mind would choose the Indian supplier over the cheaper, tariff-free Chinese alternative.

In Europe, the cost ballooned to $752 per ton, giving ArcelorMittal a clear competitive edge with its $670 per ton pricing.

In the United States, the price per ton hit $739, putting it out of reach for buyers who had been eyeing it as a cheaper alternative to US Steel Corp's $680 per ton.

Orders were canceled at an unprecedented rate. In less than a week, Eastern Earth Steel lost 65% of its international contracts.

Inside the boardrooms of Titan Steel and Bharat Alloys, executives celebrated. They had done what their supply chains and financial influence could not. They had used the government to bring down a threat that had refused to be controlled.

What they failed to realize was that they had just set fire to an entire industry in their desperation to crush a single competitor.

The Domestic Market War — A Campaign of Sabotage

With exports crippled, the next phase of the attack began within India itself.

Titan Steel and Bharat Alloys knew that Eastern Earth Steel's natural response would be to shift its focus inward, flooding the domestic market with cheap, high-quality steel to compensate for lost exports. That couldn't be allowed to happen.

They moved swiftly, calling in favors from their networks of distributors, contractors, and logistics partners.

At construction sites across Mumbai, Delhi, and Bengaluru, whispers started circulating. Foremen and engineers, many of them quietly paid off by Bharat Alloys and Titan Steel, began spreading doubts about Eastern Earth's product.

"You know, I heard their steel isn't as strong as they claim," one contractor would say. "A lot of buildings going up with their material might not pass future inspections."

Others chimed in, fueling the manufactured paranoia.

"Yeah, my supplier told me the composition is slightly off. A little too brittle under extreme weather conditions."

At the logistics hubs in Gujarat and Tamil Nadu, distributors began mysteriously refusing to ship Eastern Earth's materials. Some cited "contractual complications." Others claimed "uncertainty in future supplies." In reality, it was simple. They had been given an ultimatum—stay loyal to the established players, or risk losing access to all major construction contracts.

The newspapers played their part, running stories with alarmist headlines.

"Unregulated Steel Flooding the Market — Is It Safe?" one article from the Mumbai Industrial Times read, subtly implying that Eastern Earth Steel had bypassed traditional safety testing protocols.

"Foreign Buyers Abandon Indian Steel — Is Eastern Earth to Blame?" screamed another from The Economic Herald, pushing the narrative that the company's aggressive expansion had destabilized the industry.

"Mysterious Steel Giant Faces Quality Concerns," published by Delhi Financial Express, leaned into the fact that Eastern Earth Steel's rapid rise was unnatural, and therefore, suspicious.

On television, well-groomed "experts" appeared on business channels to discuss the potential risks of using steel from "an unproven supplier." The statements were vague, speculative, and carefully crafted to damage confidence without stating outright falsehoods.

Even government officials added fuel to the fire.

"There are certain concerns regarding long-term durability," one minister said during a routine press conference. "We are reviewing safety standards in the sector to ensure compliance remains strong."

He never mentioned Eastern Earth Steel by name. But he didn't have to.

Public confidence collapsed.

Within two weeks, Eastern Earth Steel's domestic sales dropped by 40%.

For the first time since its inception, the company was bleeding.

And its enemies believed the war was over.

They were wrong.

The Internal Response — The Counterstrike Begins

Inside Eastern Earth Steel's Mumbai headquarters, the executive boardroom was silent.

The data on the screen was unmistakable.

Export revenue—down 65%.

Domestic orders—down 40%.

Market confidence—crumbling.

It should have been a death sentence for any company.

But the man standing at the head of the table wasn't panicking.

He had expected this.

He had planned for this.

And now, he was already thinking three moves ahead.

"They think they've won," he said, his voice calm.

The other executives looked at him, waiting.

"They've cornered us," he continued, his fingers tapping lightly against the polished wood. "So now, we corner them."

The tension in the room shifted.

He straightened, his expression unreadable.

"They used the government to weaken us. They used distributors to isolate us. They used propaganda to poison our reputation. But they made a mistake."

A brief pause.

Then, the quiet command.

"Initiate Phase Two."

The war was far from over.