Preparations

"You need to cancel the old license, register the new one, and update the tax registration. That means going to three counters," the male government clerk said.

Aditya handed over Prakash's old license and the transfer agreement. "Handle it for me. If anything's missing, tell me now."

The clerk handed out a form and said, "Fill this in first."

Dipti took it and crouched beside a small table to write.

The clerk glanced at Dipti and said, "The applicant has to sign the form personally."

"She's my factory's accountant," Aditya said.

At that, the clerk said nothing more.

Aditya stood beside Dipti and pointed to several blank fields on the form where she was hesitating.

"For the scope of business, just write cotton yarn weaving."

Dipti finished the form and handed it over.

The clerk read it, marked crosses in several places, and reminded them, "These need to be filled in again. Put the Kanpur factory premises as the owner's address, not Varanasi. Leave the tax section blank for now. Wait for the tax officer to stamp it."

Remembering something, Aditya asked, "Who should I see on the tax side?"

"The third room at the back. If you're busy, Mr. Mishra, I can have someone take it over for you," the man said.

Aditya nodded. He knew this "taking it over" would not be free.

He had Dipti follow the helper the man assigned to the tax counter, while he waited in the corridor.

The helper was a dark-skinned teenage boy whose sandals slapped as he ran.

In less than an hour, the new license was ready. It read: Diya Textile Factory, owner: Aditya Mishra, business activities: cotton yarn weaving.

Dipti read through the license and put it away.

The two walked out of the small building. The long queue from earlier had not budged an inch.

"Now we'll go find the yarn merchant," Aditya said.

The market where the supplier was based was not far from the small business registration office, and Aditya drove there.

Kanpur's morning market was already bustling. Many handcarts stood outside the shops, and the carters were shouting as they unloaded goods.

A few imperious cattle walked along the street, their tails swishing back and forth.

Aditya parked at the entrance to the alley and led Dipti inside.

Agarwal was a longtime supplier to Prakash's Jaya Textile Mill and had been doing business in this alley for over a decade. Prakash's outstanding debt was owed to him.

Aditya knew the man had plenty of stock on hand and was eager to find another buyer.

Agarwal's shop stood halfway down the alley, with dozens of bundles of cotton yarn stacked outside.

Aditya went inside and explained the situation to him.

After hearing him out, Agarwal froze for a moment, then stood up and pressed his palms together. "Mr. Mishra, is Jaya Factory yours now?"

"Jaya is gone. From now on, it's called Diya," Aditya said.

A somewhat complicated expression crossed Agarwal's face. He looked at Aditya, then at Dipti, and said, "Prakash still owed me for some materials. Not a large sum-forty-five thousand."

Aditya said, "His debts have nothing to do with us. He's the one who owes you. I'm not here to repay a debt today. I'm here to discuss a new order."

Agarwal gave a bitter smile. "Sir, I worked with Prakash for five years. In the last six months, every payment was late. I knew he wasn't doing it deliberately-the factory really was failing. Your taking over Jaya is good news for me too. As long as you're willing, I'll keep supplying the yarn."

Aditya said, "I'll keep using your yarn, with immediate payment and no buying on credit, but you have to give me your lowest price. And I'll buy only from you. All my orders will go to you."

Agarwal thought for a moment, then nodded. "That works, but I can't go too low on the price. If it's too low, I won't be able to survive either."

Aditya smiled. "You haven't understood. I'm not here to squeeze your prices. What I'm offering you is stability. As soon as your goods arrive, I'll transfer the payment. No delays. Who in Kanpur pays you cash now? You won't have to wait on debts like Prakash's anymore."

Agarwal's brow twitched, as though he were wrestling with something. After a while, he held up three fingers. "Then I'll knock another three percent off the price I used to give Prakash. That's the greatest show of sincerity I can offer."

Aditya did the sums and nodded. "All right. Send over a batch this afternoon. I want to do a trial production run tomorrow. If it works out, we'll sign a long-term supply contract."

Agarwal said, "No problem. I'll deliver it to Jaya this afternoon-no, it's Diya now. Just have someone at the factory receive it."

Dipti noted the prices and quantities they had just discussed in her notebook.

After leaving the yarn market, Aditya drove.

Dipti suddenly said, "When you said you'd buy only from him, you were lying to him, weren't you?"

Aditya smiled. "If he can keep up with supply, I'll buy only from him. If he can't, I'll find someone else. That's not lying. What I'm giving him is priority."

Dipti said no more. She was only half convinced.

After eating and returning to the factory, the two made a rough inventory calculation.

At four in the afternoon, Raju arrived with his people.

There were eight people from Varanasi, all tenant farmers of the Mishra Family: six men and two women.

Aditya called Raju over and instructed him, "Today, take everyone and clean the factory first, then get the dormitory and kitchen in order. The workers will be back tomorrow, and they'll need food and somewhere to stay. Remember to fill the water vat and have the food ready. Keep a few people waiting. The yarn will arrive shortly, and you'll take them to move it into the warehouse."

"Yes, young master." Raju was still the same Raju.

Aditya felt much more at ease. From now on, all these odds and ends could be left to Raju.

Dipti stayed in the office working on the accounts, and Aditya grew ever more satisfied with this self-starting worker. He dragged out a chair for himself and sat in the courtyard.

The sun sank little by little, and streaks of sunset color lit the sky.

Aditya remembered his previous life in Lujiazui. Sitting in a temperature-controlled office, he could not even yawn without his boss thinking he was wasting time. Things were better now. He only had to issue orders, and workers would toil away for him.

At five in the afternoon, the yarn arrived. Agarwal had brought people to deliver it himself.

Aditya had Raju and the others unload the goods. Agarwal stood at the factory entrance, looking up at the old lettering above the gate.

"You're getting ready to start production before you've even changed the factory name?" Agarwal asked.

Aditya said, "We'll change it tomorrow. Time is rupees. From now on, you'll be delivering yarn to Diya."

"Time is rupees," Agarwal murmured, then nodded. "Well said. Time really is rupees."

He asked again, "Starting work the day after tomorrow?"

"The day after tomorrow," Aditya confirmed.

Agarwal smiled, asked no further questions, and got into the truck and left.

That night, Aditya and Dipti still stayed at the hotel.

Raju and his people had cleaned up the dormitory, but dormitories were not for Brahmins to live in. Aditya would not stay there, nor did he want to subject his heaven-chosen worker to such discomfort, so naturally he took Dipti along.

"Nearly everything's ready. Once all the workers arrive, we can start work," Dipti said. "There's also the sign above the gate. It hasn't been changed."

Aditya answered casually, "I'll have Raju get it changed tomorrow. Once the sign is changed, this will be Diya Textile Factory."

When they reached the hotel, they each returned to their own room.

Aditya lay on the bed, staring blankly at the dim bulb on the ceiling.

In one more day, the clatter of looms would ring out in Diya Textile Factory.

Aditya was not certain he could get the textile factory running and turn a profit either. All he could rely on was the knowledge of modern business management in his memories of his previous life, along with his advance knowledge of the future.

He rolled over. The old, battered fan clanked away.

Aditya closed his eyes and felt like a true Indian Brahmin. He had already learned how to make use of this identity. He had grown used to his privileges. He stood above others, he did not wait in line, and he paid bribes.

Everything came so naturally, as though he had been born this way.

The candlestick charts of his previous life gradually faded from his memory, and that was good. At last, he was no longer merely staring at numbers.

He was the leading ram of the Mishra Family, the owner of Diya Textile Factory, and Dipti's boss.

Tomorrow, many more things awaited him, but Aditya found these things very interesting.