The Console Dream Begins
Chapter 31: The Console Dream Begins
January 1983 – Lucknow
The winter sun filtered weakly through the dusty windowpanes of the office on the second floor of Singh Technologies. The heater buzzed faintly in one corner while Bharat sat at a long wooden table cluttered with wires, blueprints, and cups of half-finished chai. The air smelled of ink, copper, and warm wool. In one corner, a box of game cartridge prototypes sat beside a colorful poster mock-up—designed for something new, something India had never seen before.
A homegrown console gaming system.
For months, Bharat had worked silently alongside engineers and designers. Now, the R&D team had confirmed: the first complete version of the console—with an Indian operating framework, adjustable controls, and cartridge support—would be ready by February 1983.
"We'll finish testing in March," Mahadev, the project head, said in the morning meeting. "Launch by April 1983—summer holidays will start, kids will be free. Perfect timing."
Ajay nodded. "That's when we'll catch the largest audience."
Bharat leaned forward, his fingers steepled. "Let's create excitement. A countdown. Announce pre-orders in March, then launch with a demo in schools and local clubs."
The room buzzed.
A small boy directing the grown-ups. Yet no one questioned him now.
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Back at Home – Bharat's Vision Takes Shape
That evening, the mood in the Singh household was lighter than usual. Dinner was simple—hot rotis, gajar ka halwa, and sabzi—but the talk around the table was electric.
"Console game?" Vandana asked, raising an eyebrow. "And what is that again, beta? Like the arcade machines?"
"No, Ma," Bharat grinned. "A box you plug into your TV—any home TV. A controller in your hand. You play the game on your screen, sitting right in your drawing room."
Dadi muttered from her corner, "TV ke andar khel! Pehle radio, phir TV, ab TV mein khel bhi! Ram naam satya hai."
Everyone chuckled.
Rohan, now nearly four, piped up, "Main bhi khelunga! Bhaiya mujhe bhi sikhao!"
"You will," Bharat said, patting his head. "You'll be the first player."
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Ajay's Office: Building the Console Launch Team
Ajay stood with Bharat the next day in the brightly lit project room. On the wall, a flowchart outlined the coming stages: Hardware Assembly, Game Cartridge Development, Marketing, Export Strategy, Legal & Patent Filing, and Packaging.
Mahadev pointed at the flowchart. "The internal processor is ready, sir. We're not using anything that needs import clearance. It's all Indian assembled—modified for our TV systems, which are mostly PAL format and still black-and-white in rural areas."
Ajay nodded. "Make two versions: one affordable, simple design for ₹400, and another with sharper visuals and stereo output for ₹900. Some people want premium quality—they don't like being compared."
Bharat added, "And remember—sound must be adjustable. Some kids play at night."
"Right," Mahadev agreed. "And we've got feedback from test groups—boys like action games, but girls enjoy puzzle and rhythm-based ones. We're designing both."
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Bharat's Design Philosophy – Indian Soul, Global Taste
Later that afternoon, Bharat pulled out a sketchbook.
He had drawn a chase racing game: scooters dodging cows, potholes, fruit carts—set in Old Lucknow. He called it "Gali Racer." Another sketch showed a game called "Mahal Puzzle Quest", where the player solves clues to unlock the secrets of ancient palaces.
"These are original," Bharat explained to the design team. "But we'll also make adapted versions. Like our version of an American shooting game, but with an Indian storyline—less violence, more strategy."
"But sir," one designer asked, "why not copy their hits?"
Bharat shook his head. "Because if we just clone, we'll get sued. American companies already fight each other in court over small details. We'll make Indian versions of popular genres, not steal ideas."
He added, "Give them an experience with Indian stories, locations, humor—but the same excitement."
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Preparing for Export – Game Goes Global
One part of the office now buzzed with international planning. The marketing team led by Meera Sharma had created a proposal:
> "Targeted export to Indian diaspora in the UK, USA, and Singapore. Limited runs with dual-language cartridges—Hindi and English. Start with three game titles."
Ajay added, "And don't forget patent filing. Not just for the full game—but for characters, game music, backgrounds, even clothing designs."
Mahadev added, "We'll need international help—maybe license a law firm in California to help with American IP rules."
Bharat nodded, serious. "I read a report. In America, someone sued because two games had similar jumping sounds. We can't afford to be careless."
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The Console Itself – A Revolution in Plastic and Wire
The machine itself was no bigger than a typewriter.
Matte black body.
Two ports for controllers.
Game slot at the top—like a cassette deck.
Colored buttons: red for start, green for pause, yellow for special powers.
The controllers had simple directional pads and three action buttons. Designed for low power usage, they could run even on backup battery during a power cut—an idea Bharat insisted on after experiencing one too many blackouts during testing.
"People will play this during load shedding," he had said. "Games don't wait."
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Real Stakes and Light Tensions
Still, there were nerves.
A memo came in from a UK buyer:
> "Your visuals are too rooted in Indian motifs. Can you make one game with more international appeal?"
Ajay and Bharat looked at it together.
"What do we do?" Ajay asked.
"We give them both," Bharat replied. "Let them taste Lucknow, and also give them one game with a space theme. Let them choose."
Another glitch occurred during testing—cartridges weren't seating properly. A small redesign was ordered. Engineers stayed past midnight. One even burned his hand soldering wires, but no one complained.
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Closing Scene – A Breath Before the Launch
The team gathered for tea on the terrace that Friday evening. The city stretched out before them—Aminabad's glowing lights, the call of hawkers fading into the chill. Steam curled from paper cups.
Ajay looked at Bharat, now eight, scribbling again.
"Your dream… it's turning real."
Bharat smiled.
"It's not just mine anymore."
Ajay paused.
> "You know, beta… when I first bought that black-and-white TV, I thought it was the future. But now—this console—it feels like a new beginning. For our country too."
The wind rustled a paper from Bharat's notebook. On it were the words:
"Launch Date: April 15, 1983. India's first gaming console."