First Flight

Chapter 26: "First Flight"

December 1982 – Ajay Singh's Office, Lucknow

The dusty December sun cast a golden hue through the frosted windows of Ajay's office, where the walls still carried faint chalk marks from recent design discussions. The faint smell of soldering iron and the buzz of a box fan gave the room a busy, lived-in warmth.

Bharat stood in the center, facing the gathered team—Ajay, a few senior engineers, a marketing intern, and two young testers from Aligarh and Kanpur who had come to try the new prototype. On the table between them was a modest arcade-style cabinet, fitted with wooden panels and blinking colored lights. Their first game was ready. It had taken months of drawings, errors, code debugging, and stubborn hope.

Ajay clapped softly. "We've done it," he said. "But now comes the real challenge."

The room was quiet for a beat, until Bharat, eyes sharp with a thoughtful frown, raised a hand.

"Pitaji," he said, his tone careful but clear, "may I ask something about… patents?"

Ajay looked at him with curiosity. "Of course. What's on your mind, beta?"

Bharat stepped forward, hands behind his back like a miniature businessman.

"In America and Europe, there are many kinds of game-related patents," he began. "Not just one for the full game—but patents for background art, character clothing, music theme, sound effects, even the physics of how a ball bounces."

He glanced at the engineers. "If we only register the overall game, someone can still copy our character and give him a new name. Or use our level design and change the colors. Legally, it becomes very hard to stop them."

Ajay raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know so much, young man?"

Bharat grinned. "I read. I imagine. I listen."

The marketing intern laughed softly.

Bharat continued, voice picking up momentum. "We should patent each piece—like the main sound theme, the clothing design of the character, the background visuals, even the game's reward system. If someone tries to copy even one part, we'll have a way to stop them legally."

Ajay nodded slowly. "That's… far ahead thinking. You're right. We need layered IP."

"Also," Bharat added, eyes glowing with purpose, "some people—rich companies—look for loopholes. They change one small detail and claim it's different. But if we've protected every part separately, their tricks won't work."

One of the designers looked impressed. "Are you sure you're a child?"

The room chuckled.

But Bharat's expression didn't waver. He looked out the window, watching the shadows fall across the wall.

"In the future," he said, more to himself, "games will be worth billions. Some will be bigger than film studios. One small idea, if not protected, could be stolen and sold around the world."

He turned back. "I just don't want our dreams to be stolen."

There was a pause. Then Ajay reached forward and put a hand on Bharat's shoulder.

"We'll speak to the patent officer tomorrow," he said. "Every pixel of your dream will be protected."

🕹️ Game Testing Begins

Meanwhile, the testers had begun playing. Meena's cousin from Kanpur, a bright-eyed 13-year-old named Sameer, was furiously moving the joystick. The game was simple but addictive—a treasure-hunting adventure with moving platforms, collectible coins, and villains based on local folklore.

"Sound is good," Sameer said. "But can we have a louder explosion when the villain is defeated?"

Another tester added, "And maybe make the jump button bigger. I missed it twice."

One of the developers jotted it down. "Good feedback."

Bharat sat beside them, watching intently, nodding. "That's what I meant. We'll refine this, add more stages. But also… we should have trial versions."

Ajay leaned in. "Trial versions?"

Bharat explained, "Let new players play the game free for one or two hours. If they like it, they'll pay. That way we hook them. Especially children—if they cry for the game, no parent can say no."

The marketing intern chuckled again. "You'll be a dangerous businessman someday."

Bharat shrugged innocently. "People like stories. If a game gives fun and story, they'll pay for it."

Ajay added, "We'll take the machine to malls. Set up for 12 hours free play during holidays. Let the public experience it."

"Also," Bharat said, "we should prepare for export."

Everyone turned to him again.

"Europe and America," he said, "have hundreds of game arcades already. Japan is leading with companies like Nintendo. In the future, those companies will make consoles and games that become global brands. We should plan now—make two versions: one for Indian market, another that speaks to international players."

Ajay nodded. "Localization. Multiple languages, multiple designs."

🧠 Bharat's Inner Thoughts

As the testers laughed and clicked away on the machine, Bharat's mind wandered. He knew how fast this world would change.

By the late 1990s, he thought, companies like Sony and Sega will dominate homes. Microsoft will enter later. Grand Theft Auto will shock the world. Angry Birds will be on mobile phones. Children will play online from opposite sides of the world.

And here, in this humble room in Lucknow, they were planting seeds.

He closed his eyes for a second.

I won't let our ideas become forgotten. We will rise. Slowly. Surely. But smartly.

Ajay watched him quietly and smiled.

"Beta," he said gently, "you really believe this can go far, don't you?"

Bharat looked up.

"I believe this is just the beginning."

---