Deal

**July 14, 2002**

**Vedic Technology Pvt Ltd Office, Delhi**

The morning sun filtered through the glass walls of Vedic Technology Pvt Ltd's office in Delhi, casting sharp, slanting beams across the polished wooden floor. Jatin sat at a sleek desk, its surface cluttered with papers, a laptop humming softly, and a chipped ceramic mug of black coffee steaming beside him. The city thrummed beyond the window—a cacophony of honking autorickshaws, distant shouts of vendors, and the low rumble of traffic weaving through Connaught Place. His fingers, rough with ink stains and the faint calluses of relentless work, tapped idly on the desk, his mind—still razor-sharp from the July 6 boost—whirring with anticipation. Today was a meeting, a dance with opportunity, and he felt it in his bones, a quiet thrill pulsing beneath his calm exterior.

The office was a testament to VedaOS's rise—glass doors etched with the infinity logo, walls lined with shelves of tech manuals, and a faint hum of servers tucked in a corner. Jatin had traded Rewari's dust for Delhi's urban pulse a week ago, settling into this space, a hub for Vedic Technology Pvt Ltd, his new empire. The air smelled of coffee and the sharp tang of new paint, the furniture still carrying that crisp, untouched scent of a place freshly claimed. He straightened his jacket—dark blue, slightly creased from the ride in—and glanced at his watch: 10:55 a.m. James Carter from Gateway, Inc. was due any minute. Gateway wasn't Microsoft or IBM, but in 2002, its cow-spotted boxes and mid-tier PCs had carved a niche in the American market—a player, not a giant, perfect for what Jatin had in mind.

A soft knock broke his reverie, the glass door swinging open as his assistant, Neha—a brisk young woman with a tight bun and a clipboard—poked her head in. "Sir, Mr. Carter's here," she said, her voice clipped with efficiency. Jatin nodded, standing, his boots scuffing the floor as he smoothed his jacket. "Send him in," he replied, voice steady, a grin tugging at his lips. Neha stepped aside, and James Carter strode in—a tall man in his late forties, with thinning blond hair, a gray suit slightly rumpled from travel, and a leather briefcase swinging at his side. His blue eyes flicked around the room, taking in the infinity logo, the sparse elegance, before settling on Jatin.

"Mr. Carter, welcome," Jatin said, stepping forward, his hand extended, the faint scent of cigarette smoke clinging to his fingers from last night's porch break. James shook it firmly, his grip warm and calloused, a salesman's hand. "Good to meet you, Mr. Sharma," he replied, his American accent crisp, a faint drawl softening the edges. "Quite a setup you've got here." Jatin gestured to a chair across the desk—a cushioned leather thing, still stiff with newness—and said, "Please, sit. Coffee?" James nodded, easing into the seat, the leather creaking under his weight. "Black, thanks," he said, setting his briefcase down with a soft thud. Neha slipped out, returning moments later with a second mug, its steam curling upward as she placed it before James and retreated, the door clicking shut behind her.

James took a sip, the coffee's bitterness wrinkling his nose briefly, then set the mug down, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Mr. Sharma—Jatin, if I may—your VedaOS is fantastic," he began, voice earnest, his hands gesturing as if shaping the words. "We've tested it—smooth, fast, user-friendly. Beats anything we've got on our machines right now. Gateway's interested—very interested. I'm here with an offer: 2 million dollars, cash, for the software. Full rights." His eyes locked on Jatin's, a salesman's gleam tempered by genuine admiration.

Jatin leaned back, the chair creaking softly, a smile spreading slow and warm across his face. His 160% mind weighed it—2 million dollars, a fortune, enough to flood Sharma University with labs, libraries, dreams. But VedaOS was more—India's heartbeat, his creation, not a trinket to sell. He sipped his coffee, the heat biting his tongue, and set the mug down, the clink sharp in the quiet. "Mr. Carter—James—I'm honored you like it," he said, voice low and steady, pride threading through. "It means a lot, coming from Gateway. But I don't want to sell it. VedaOS is ours—India's. I won't let it go. That said, I'd love to collaborate."

James blinked, surprise flickering across his face, then leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, the leather of his shoe glinting in the light. "Oh, that's our bad luck, then," he said, a rueful chuckle escaping, his fingers drumming briefly on the armrest. "Can't say I'm not disappointed—we'd have branded those cow boxes with your infinity sign in a heartbeat. But collaboration? I'm listening. How do you see it working?" His tone shifted, curious now, the salesman yielding to the strategist.

Jatin's grin widened, his 160% mind clicking into gear, ideas flowing like code. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, dust motes dancing in the sunlight between them. "Our online price is $10 per license—keeps it accessible, viral. For Gateway, I'll offer $5 per device. You pre-install VedaOS on your PCs—laptops, desktops, whatever rolls out of your factories. Five dollars per unit, straight to Vedic Technology. You get a cutting-edge OS, we get scale. Win-win." His voice carried a quiet fire, the coffee's warmth lingering in his throat as he watched James's reaction.

James tilted his head, blue eyes narrowing slightly, his fingers tapping the briefcase as he mulled it over. The room hummed—traffic outside, the faint whir of the laptop, Neha's footsteps echoing down the hall. "Five bucks a device," he murmured, almost to himself, then looked up, a slow grin breaking through. "That's sharp—keeps your margins, gives us a hook. But exclusivity? We'd need a lock on this—no Dell, no HP sniffing around." Jatin nodded, anticipating it, his boots scuffing the floor as he shifted. "Five years," he said, firm but fair. "No other company gets this deal for five years. You're the first, James—Gateway's the face of VedaOS in hardware."

James laughed—a short, bright sound—and extended his hand across the desk. "You've got a deal, Jatin. Five dollars a device, five years exclusive. Let's make it sing." Jatin shook it, the grip solid, a spark of triumph flaring in his chest. "We will," he said, voice rough with satisfaction, the coffee mug warm under his palm as he raised it in a quiet toast. They talked details—shipments, timelines, branding—the air thick with numbers and possibility. James scribbled notes, his pen scratching fast, coffee cooling as they hashed out logistics: 10,000 units to start, $50,000 upfront, scaling as Gateway's factories churned.

An hour later, James stood, briefcase in hand, the leather creaking as he slung it over his shoulder. "Pleasure doing this, Jatin," he said, his grin wide, eyes glinting with excitement. "You'll hear from our legal team soon—contracts by next week." Jatin rose, boots thudding softly, and walked him to the door, the glass cool under his fingers as he opened it. "Looking forward to it, James," he replied, watching the man stride out, his gray suit vanishing into the elevator's hum.

The office settled into quiet, the city's pulse a dull roar beyond the glass. Jatin sank back into his chair, the leather creaking under him, and rubbed his neck, the faint ache of tension easing. His mind replayed the deal—$5 per device, Gateway's reach, millions more rupees for Sharma University. He reached for the phone—a sleek black thing, new as the office—and dialed Anand Mishra, the CEO of Vedic Technology, a man he'd hired last month for his sharp mind and sharper ambition.

The line crackled, then Anand's voice came through, deep and clipped. "Jatin, what's up?" Jatin grinned, sipping the last of his coffee, its bitterness a jolt. "Anand, we've got a deal—Gateway, Inc. Five dollars per device, five-year exclusive. James Carter just left. Finalize the details—contracts, payments, the works. I want it locked by next week." Anand chuckled, the sound warm through the static. "Gateway? Nice catch, boss. Five bucks a pop—that's a river of cash. I'm on it—legal's drafting already. You're turning heads out there." Jatin laughed, rough and low, setting the mug down with a soft clink. "Just starting, Anand. Keep it tight."

He hung up, the phone clicking into its cradle, and leaned back, boots scuffing the floor. The infinity logo glowed on his laptop screen, a quiet promise. Outside, Delhi buzzed—horns blaring, dust swirling, life churning. His 160% senses caught it—the coffee's fading warmth, the ink on his fingers, the distant clang of construction echoing from Rewari in his mind. Gateway was a step, not the summit—VedaOS would grow, Vedic Technology would rise, and India would shine. He lit a cigarette, smoke curling into the sunlight, its sting sharp in his eyes, and grinned—rough, real, ready for more.