Bharat’s Turn – More Than Just a Game

Chapter 19: Bharat's Turn – More Than Just a Game

The warm air of the June night drifted across the Singh family courtyard. Plates were still half-full, and bowls of kheer passed hand to hand while children played nearby. Amid soft laughter and clinking utensils, Bharat sat quietly, thinking.

Ajay leaned forward, smiling gently at his eldest son. "Bharat, you've heard everyone's ideas—your Dadi's, your Dadaji's, your Chachis', your Buaji's. What about you? What would you like to create with technology?"

Bharat looked up from his bowl and met his father's gaze. "I want to make games."

The courtyard quieted. A few chuckles followed.

"Games?" Arjun asked, amused. "Like Ludo or Snakes and Ladders?"

Bharat shook his head. "Not board games. Video games. Arcade games. Console games. Games people play on machines, for fun and also for learning."

Raghav, always the businessman, raised an eyebrow. "You're serious?"

Bharat nodded, his voice calm but firm. "Yes. Very serious. People think games are only play. But they're also profit. In America, in Japan, video game companies are already making millions of dollars."

Everyone leaned in.

"Like who?" Ajay asked.

Bharat's eyes lit up. "In 1981, Nintendo released Donkey Kong—it made more than $280 million in its first year. Atari, in the U.S., sold over 10 million game cartridges just last year. They made over $1.2 billion in 1982. In Japan, companies like Namco are building arcades in every major city. Europe is catching up. And even in India, cities like Delhi, Bombay, Bangalore… arcade machines are arriving. People are lining up to play."

Vandana stared. "And you know all this?"

"I read," Bharat said simply. "And I remember things."

Raghav chuckled. "You sound like a little businessman."

Bharat gave a tiny smile. "Maybe. But I'm thinking beyond just one game. I want to build a company."

Ajay blinked. "You're nine."

Bharat shrugged. "Still thinking."

Ajay asked gently, "So tell us—what kind of games? For who?"

Bharat replied, "For everyone. Different games for different age groups. That's the key."

He held up his fingers, counting with each idea.

"For small children: Fun games. Matching colors, shapes, counting—without them knowing they're learning.

For school children: Games that teach science, history, or geography—but like an adventure.

For teenagers: Action, thriller, maybe war games. Something that gives excitement, but also values.

For adults: Strategy games. Farming simulations. City-building games.

For older people: Puzzle games, memory games. Something calm, but challenging."

Kavita asked, "Why games? What made you think of this?"

"It started with my cousins," Bharat said, pointing toward the younger children. "I wanted to build something that teaches them without boring them. But then I saw the newspaper—it said arcade machines were spreading in every big city, and kids are spending money just to play. And then I thought… if people will pay to play, this is not just play. It's a business."

Vandana asked, "Would people in India really buy video games?"

"They already are," Bharat replied. "Rich families in Bombay and Delhi import console machines. Some schools are talking about computer labs. But all the games are from America or Japan. We need Indian games—our stories, our language, our values."

Arjun asked, "And where would you start?"

"Small. One arcade machine. One game made for learning. Put it in a school. Let children play and learn. Then build more—rent some to gaming shops. Build consoles later. Start in Hindi. Add regional languages."

Raghav was now nodding, visibly impressed. "You're thinking in steps."

"Yes. First local, then global. First fun, then expansion. A business that grows slowly, but never forgets its purpose."

Ajay asked quietly, "And what is the purpose?"

Bharat's voice softened. "To make people happy. To help them learn. To create something they want to come back to. And to prove India doesn't need to copy America. We can build our own stories."

There was a silence. Even the children had stopped and gathered around, half-understanding, half-amazed.

"And Pitaji," Bharat added, "parents can't say no when a child wants a game. If they do, the child will cry, shout, beg—until they get it. That's why the market will never stop growing."

Everyone burst into laughter.

Dadi smiled, wiping her hands on her saree. "Tu toh sach mein sabka sapna poora karega."

(You really will fulfill everyone's dreams.)

Bharat looked down at his empty plate, then at his cousins chasing each other across the courtyard.

"One day," he whispered, "they'll be playing the games I build."