“Rohit, what are you doing?! That’s export inventory!”
“Shut up, Manager Abir. How am I supposed to export garbage like this? Are you trying to bankrupt the company?”
The moment I addressed Abir as “Manager Abir” and spoke with a cold expression, the atmosphere froze solid.
This was exactly how business houses had started down the wrong path in my previous life.
They all focus and relay on mergers and subcontractors while claiming technology could always be bought later.
That’s how many people had begun to rot in business.
You shouldn’t get addicted to making easy money from cheap products.like how in 21st century Mobile companies did, that’s why they vanish from Market…
And Chinese brands effectively control the electronics market share of india, well they make perfect products as per budgets.
“Arun, come here. How does this fabric look to you?”
I decided this was the perfect opportunity for some serious education.
I called over the visibly nervous employees and had them inspect the cloth.
“Sniff, sniff… It does smell strongly like a new garment.”
“The edges are fraying a bit, but we can trim them before shipment, President.”
“The fabric stiffened after dyeing, but we can stretch it back out with the machines.”
“Haah… You people…”
I was speechless.
The foremen didn’t even recognize the real problem.
They weren’t being lazy.
They simply had never seen a truly high-quality product before.
Their standards were far too low.
What i can do now haa!
I have to teach them.
“Rohit… I mean, President. What exactly is wrong with it? I told you. This came from the best dyeing factory in Dunlop.”
Abir struck a nerve.
The foremen might get a pass.
He shouldn’t.
“The best?
Dye is rubbing off onto my hands!
And can’t you see these stains?
The color is different here and here!
The fabric is pilling, wrinkled, and rough!
How is a customer supposed to make clothes with this?
It looks worn out before it’s even been sold!
You call this dyeing?
Bring those bastards here right now!
They’ll pay for every yard they ruined!”
It was like taking a brand-new Lexus to be polished and getting it back completely disassembled from the engine to the seats.
“A little color transfer is normal. And those aren’t stains… the color is just slightly different.”
“If you received this, would you ever order from us again? Are we trying to do business once and disappear?”
“…”
“We need to make money selling fabric. Not once—repeatedly. Don’t you want to become rich?”
“Well… of course I do.”
“Then we can’t do this!”
“…”
“What’s with that look? You don’t want to do things properly?”
“To do better than this we’d have to send it to Surat. There isn’t anyone in Calcutta who can do better—”
“What do you mean Surat?! We need to find someone in Calcutta who can do it right!”
Honestly, I didn’t know much about dyeing.
But I knew one thing:
There was no way export orders would increase if we shipped this.
We’d be lucky if we only got complaints.
“President, maybe if we wash it several times and stretch it with the machines—”
“Stop talking nonsense! Old clothes stay old clothes no matter how many times you wash them! This is already old clothes!”
RIP!
RIP!
I slashed through the remaining rolls with a utility knife and threw them into the factory yard.
Then I poured lubricating oil all over them.
“W-What are you doing?! That’s money! That’s all money!”
Abir panicked and rushed over.
He grabbed my arm and refused to let go.
“Shut up! This isn’t money. It’s poison! If we sell products like this, our factory is finished! Jobs, business, everything will disappear!”
“Who’s going bankrupt? Even if you don’t like it, this would sell out in any local market. I’ll sell it myself. That’s at least 30,000 ₹ right there.”
Exactly why I was burning it.
“Listen carefully. The moment we sell this, we become a cheap company. Do you want to spend the rest of your life being called cheap? Selling in street markets forever? We’re an export company! Exports are how we get rich! Don’t you want to be rich? Answer me!”
That was exactly what had happened to many companies.
They neglected technology development and obsessed over low-end products.
That’s why even in 2020s we have lower patent rights compare to other countries.
So,Eventually they will lost their growth engine.
No matter how good your marketing is, manufacturing without technological capability has limits.
Is not it ?
“I want to get rich! I want to export! We will export!”
“Then burn it! Burn it all!”
“Haah… Rohit… Even so…”
“Shut up and burn it! Varun, what are you waiting for? Bring every defective roll here! Burn everything!”
“President…”
“I’m the president! Burn it! I’d rather bite my tongue and die than sell cheap garbage!”
It was the fiercest dressing-down I’d ever given.
Overwhelmed by my intensity, Abir and the foremen gathered the fabric and set it ablaze.
Because it was Rayon-based, the smoke wasn’t too heavy, but the bright red flames filled the air with the smell of burning hair.
I had made such a scene that the female employees trembled nervously.
Even pedestrians outside the factory stopped to watch.
“If I ever see trash like this produced again, I’ll burn the entire factory down! Better to fail quickly than suffer slowly!”
“President, please calm down. The employees can hear you.”
I wanted them to hear.
— Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
“You think I won’t do it? Want me to set it on fire right now?”
“Foreman Tarun! Take the president away. Arun, Varun! Get over here!”
“Yes, Manager!”
“Each of you grab a roll waiting for dyeing. We’re visiting every dyeing factory in the city today. Move!”
Oh?
So causing a scene finally got results.
If I was going to spend money making a fuss, I might as well do it properly.
“Let me go! Let go! I’ll burn everything! Every last thing!”
“Foreman Tarun! Drag him away! Lock him in the president’s office. If he says he’ll do something, he might actually burn the factory down!”
“Yes, Manager!”
As I struggled, more employees rushed over and carried me to the office.
The so-called president’s office was just a tiny loft.
Once the door was locked from outside, it was practically a prison cell.
“Don’t let him out until I get back. Understood?”
“Yes, Manager!”
Abir loaded the car with fabric samples and sped away.
Good.
That was exactly why I had bought the car.
If you looked hard enough, there had to be a real dyeing expert somewhere in this area.
***
“Whew…”
Alone in the office, I gradually calmed down.
To be honest, I had been too angry to control myself.
Shipment Quality Specifications
No color bAbirding or dye transfer when washed with neutral detergent in clean water.
If oil stains or discoloration affect more than 2% of the visible area under natural light, the product is defective.
If pilling affects more than 2% of the surface area, the product is defective.
If dimensions change by more than 2% after dyeing, the product is defective.
I sat at my desk and drafted basic quality standards.
Whenever things seemed ambiguous in engineering, a 2% threshold was often useful.
Once a difference in color, size, or shape exceeded about 2%, people instinctively noticed something was wrong.
The rule existed physically and psychologically.
When a company captured 2% of a market, growth began.
Economic growth above 2% felt healthy.
Below it felt stagnant.
“Guess I wore myself out.”
I collapsed onto the loft floor.
The machines downstairs continued producing fabric, but unlike yesterday, I couldn’t enjoy the sound.
Of all things, we’d get stuck at the dyeing stage.
I had underestimated 1950s technology because I came from the 21st century.
Then again, before returning to the past, I barely knew anything about textile.
It’s all from my mother’s limited knowledge that she taught me..i don’t know beside those in textile industry.
Well, a beginner needs to stay humble, i need to learn about this industry earnestly.
This was a good lesson.
I need to keep teaching quality standards.
If I’d ignored it, disaster would’ve come later.
In the long run, discovering the defect early was a blessing.
Lying on the floor made it hard to get up.
I’d been taking short naps here and there, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed a full night’s sleep.
***
Knock.
Knock.
“President Rohit. You still alive in there?”
“Huh?!”
I was drifting in and out of sleep when someone knocked on the door.
“Haha, you’re alive. It’s me. Old Man from Pioneer Rayon.”
“Sir? What brings you here?”
His voice came through the crack in the door.
Clank.
Clank.
I tried opening it.
The employees had really locked it with a lock.
“I heard you burned fabric and threatened to burn down the factory too. Is that why you’re locked up?”
“It was supposed to be export-quality fabric, but the quality was a disaster. You should’ve seen it.”
“I don’t need to see it. That’s exactly why the Britishers laugh at Indian products.”
“…The yarn from Pioneer Rayon exceeded expectations. The problem wasn’t the yarn. It was dyeing.”
Even after hearing that, the Old Man’s expression didn’t change.
Apparently that wasn’t why he had come.
“You’re the most hot-tempered factory owner I’ve ever met. I figured I should help. It may not solve everything, but it’ll help.”
“You know dyeing too?”
I was genuinely surprised.
Then again, someone who built his own Rayon processing plant wasn’t ordinary.
“My father worked at a British synthetic fiber factory and helped build it from the ground up—”
“Enough. That’s not a memory worth talking. Open the door.”
“Yes, Father.”
Wait.
The son had come too.
the future chairman of Pioneer Group.
A brilliant chemical engineer in his own right.
“Raj, bring some fabric and take President Rohit with you. I’ll start mixing dyes.”
“Yes, Father.”
I had set fire to fabric to motivate my employees.
Instead, the flames had guided the Pioneer family straight to me.
***
“Father, we’re here.”
“If you brought the fabric, wash it first.”
“Yes, Father.”
Following Oldman through the Rayon plant, I entered the backyard.
A large oil drum cut in half sat over a gas burner, filled with warm water.
Following instructions, Raj submerged the fabric and began washing it.
Using a huge wooden paddle, he stirred the cloth skillfully.
Clearly this wasn’t his first time.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re washing away impurities and oil stains in water at thirty degrees Celsius with a small amount of detergent. It’s preparation for dyeing.”
“When did this place get a dyeing line?”
“This is my father’s laboratory.”
“Laboratory?”
“Yes. My father was a researcher but we did not have enough funds. So most of the process we do manually, and in many places still they stood vats and stomped fabric with their bare feet.”
“With their feet? Was that even allowed?”
Just imagining it made my feet hurt.
“Of course not. My father’s toenails fell off so many times that he doesn’t have any left.”
“…Good heavens.”
“Well when he was working at Bengal Chemical, he was humiliated by a British chemist who was bragging about British textiles. So, he made a promise to himself that he would create clothing superior to British products. From spinning yarn to cutting fabric, he wanted everything done with Indian technology. Naturally, dyeing was essential.”
Wow.
From yarn to finished garments.
No wonder Pioneer Group had become obsessed with textiles.
This was the dream of an entire lifetime.
“Why are you talking so much nonsense?”
“It’s not nonsense, Father.”
“Let’s just get to work.”
Old Man was a reserved engineer.
His son was warm and sociable.
They complemented each other perfectly.
“Thank you for helping me.”
“How do you know it’ll help? We’re just trying things. No need to thank me yet.”
He was a perfectionist.
He wanted to see whether I’d actually be satisfied.
“Even the effort means a lot.”
“Fine. What colors do you need?”
“Yellow and green.”
I spread out the fabric samples from Cairo.
There were other orders too, but Omer’s yellow and green order of 200,000 yards was by far the most urgent.
“Mango color and forest color.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
A perfect description.
“Father, let’s start with the mango color. It’s easier.”
“Agreed.”
Raj brought out numerous dyes and glass bottles.
Old Man poured them into a metal container and began mixing.
“Sir, isn’t that color too dark?”
“No. This is exactly right. After washing and finishing, the color will develop properly.”
“I… see.”
It wasn’t merely dark.
It had a reddish tint.
The idea that it would eventually become yellow amazed me.
“Raj. Taste it.”
“Yes, Father.”
Sip.
Spit.
“I think it needs a little more acetic acid and sodium carboxylate.”
“Really?”
Sip.
Spit.
“You’re right.”
I was stunned.
Father and son were literally tasting the dye solution and discussing it like chefs judging a sauce.
They kept adding chemicals and tasting again.
Acetic acid.
Sodium carboxylate.
Sorbitol.
Ethylenediamine.
Sodium benzoate…, and whatnot
Judging from the labels alone, none of it looked remotely healthy.
Yet they tasted the mixture without hesitation.
Even if they spat it out immediately, I couldn’t imagine putting that on my tongue.
“Why are you making that face, President Rohit ?”
The old man grinned.
“Want to have a taste too?”
The real deal.
The genuine master had appeared.