That evening.
I didn’t return to my tiny rented room until the sky had already darkened.
The moment I crossed the threshold, I collapsed onto the floor.
After running around all day, the physical and mental exhaustion was no joke.
I could’ve come home earlier, but I’d missed dinner time because I’d been getting business cards made with “Nayara Corporation ” engraved on them.
A businessman couldn’t go around without business cards.
“Whew…”
My body was exhausted, but I felt good.
I’d managed to secure a fabric factory and even a yarn factory — no, it was practically a full setup at this point.
Neither place could properly produce goods yet, but as long as operating funds were supplied, thread and fabric would start pouring out soon enough.
“Is there any food left?”
I crawled across the floor and opened the small kitchen door, but there was nothing so I started to cook dinner.
There was only rice,egg, some chilli, onion and oil.
With this I cooked enough Friedrice for us.
I took a moment to get a shower before shoveling down the fried rice.
Maybe I was starving, but why did it taste this good?
Ah… now that I’m full, I’m suddenly so sleepy.
‘…Before Abir gets back… I should at least wash the dishes… where’s the plate again… I’m too sleepy…’
I knew I should clean the kitchen, but my heavy eyelids refused to cooperate.
“Heyyyyy!!!”
“Gah!”
Someone pinched my cheek hard enough to yank me awake.
It was Abir.
With one hand he pinched my cheek, and with the other he pointed at the fried rice on the plate, he was crying.
“Hey, even so, waking me up like th—”
I did feel bad for not washing plates.
But waking me up violently?
I was about to smack him— except I couldn’t.
“You bastard… you cooked dinner… I skipped lunch…thanks buddy…”
He was crying.
And somehow, after just one day, his cheeks looked sunken.
“You haven’t eaten anything until this hour? Why didn’t you at least buy something for lunch?”
It was already past 10 p.m.
and he was still hungry.
Did he seriously skip lunch ?
“Those damn bank bastards. They said they’d review the documents, then disappeared for lunch together. After lunch they said they’d handle another matter first before meeting me, and by closing time they claimed they had accounting work to finish and told me to come back tomorrow. Bastards. Just because they’ve got money, they think they can treat people however they want?”
Abir must’ve been starving because he started stuffing himself with Friedrice as we were talking.
“What, you couldn’t even get a consultation? Didn’t you show them the export contract?”
“I did. But they just smirked. They said if a company that was registered today claimed to have signed a contract already, would I believe it if I were them?”
Fair enough.
The contract date came before the company registration date, so suspicion was inevitable.
“So then?”
“I told them to send a telex to Cairo and confirm it. Told them the contract was real.”
A telex was basically the international telegram system used in the ’50s and ’60s.
It disappeared almost overnight once international phone calls became widespread and fax machines appeared.
“And?”
“They asked why they should be the ones confirming it. Said they’d need proof the export contract was genuine before they could issue a loan.”
“Typical bastards. Sigh… then you should’ve just come back. You stayed there all day?”
Back then, plenty of people really did try to scam banks, and even in the 2020s there were plenty of scammers, like the famous diamond jewellery scam, so from their perspective it wasn’t entirely unreasonable.
“How could I leave? The first delivery deadline is only two months away. We need money to manufacture anything.”
“If they went that far, it means they already decided not to lend. They were just saying it indirectly.”
I felt frustrated.
Iron is heated as I iron the shirts, but Abir touches it unconsciously.
“Hot! Damn!”
He hurriedly pushed it away.
Wrinkle shirts.
Our business situation felt exactly the same.
Maybe because he’d finally eaten, Abir’s face looked much brighter.
“A World Bank loan?”
“They said the World Bank has funds for helping developing countries like us. Apparently they’re investing a massive two hundred million dollars into expanding and upgrading TISCO(Tata Iron and Steel Company), IISCO(Indian Iron and Steel Company), and Indian Railway.”
“D-Don’t tell me… they are proposing IBRD Bank Loans?”
“Huh? How do you know that? Yeah, they called it an IBRD loan .”
How would I know?
Anyone who’d spent even a little time around knowing India’s industrial history would know.
That this IBRD loan is essential for Indian Railways to upgrade and expand its infrastructure, as per history around this time Indian railway got its IBRD loan to restructure its capacity, but TISCO got this loan many years later, and IISCO didn’t get this loan.
So, that bastard is really doing everything to ramp up the industrialization trajectory of this country.
Well it’s good news for me.
You can say that this move can change the trajectory of India,as the railway will need rolling stocks and railway tracks for expansion.
These two can support that initiative.
Modern industry without Steel and Petroleum is unimaginable.
Anyway, the money used to build this complex and hydroelectric projects had come from IDA loans — International Development Association loans in future, but he already started to tapping the IBRD loans, well this IBRD loans are in market price, but for this now IBRD is also perfect as Whole world is starved of Dollars, more dollars means more safety net even it’s a loan.
The stories of how this generation struggled to secure those loans were practically heroic legends to engineers like me who are interested in this country’s economic development.
They said the World Bank inspection team had laughed when they were brought to the empty hills near the most complicated Hydroelectric project site and told, “We’re going to build a Hydroelectric project complex here,” where only a few straw-roofed huts stood scattered across barren hilly land.
At first, the World Bank inspection team supposedly intended to reject the proposal outright as absurd.
But one advance representative from the World Bank completely reversed the situation.
Apparently he’d been an extreme enthusiast, because he independently submitted a report to the World Bank insisting India absolutely must receive the IDA loan.
The report was written in such forceful terms that the world bank immediately approved it.
Providing a single country with a lump-sum loan of hundred million dollars was almost unprecedented at that time but now in 1948 this country is actually getting a loan of 200 Million Dollars.
What was that man’s name again?
Back when senior engineers told the story, I’d listened casually as though it were folklore.
Haa!
No, I need to focus on the immediate situation now.
If the World Bank can give 200 Million Dollars worth of loan then I have to get it too.
“How I know isn’t important. What matters is this — what exactly did the bank say? Can we actually get the loan?”
A loan meant dollars.
And dollars were wings for an exporter like me.
“I waited behind the bank until closing time and finally squeezed the information out of them. They said any export company related to any industry could apply for IBRD loans. We export synthetic fibers, don’t we? The SBI officer said he could help us prepare the documents so we could get in on it too. Of course, he made it clear it wouldn’t be free. Bastard.”
He cursed them nonstop, yet still managed to bring back useful information.
Good work, Abir.
“Not free? You mean commission?”
“If we receive foreign capital, the IDBI will apparently match it with domestic loans at the same ratio. They want two percent of that money as commission.”
If you secured foreign capital, you could borrow an equivalent amount domestically too?
Absurd, but apparently that was how the 1950s in this timeline is working and has worked in other countries.
“Two percent? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“It means everyone from the bottom to the top wants their cut. It’s filthy, but if we want the loan, we’ll probably have to pay.”
The relationship between foreign and domestic financing was ridiculous enough, but the commission rate was even worse.
Everyone knew banks took “gift money” for loans, but two percent?
Borrow one hundred thousand dollars and hand over two thousand as a bribe?
Money brought into the country for economic development, demanded as corruption?
No, that’s not right, the language is official,so what they are trying to do, it’s 1948, so don’t tell me they are building a Forex Reserve from now on.
But the 1950s financial sector really was in complete chaos.
“What nonsense. Two percent commission? Don’t ever deal with SBI again.”
“Rohit, even if it’s dirty, what choice do we have? There’s still a chance here. Maybe not the IBRD loan itself, but we can probably use the paperwork as an excuse to secure domestic loans from the IDBI.”
“We’ll borrow somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else? Just buying the yarn alone will cost at least 2 lakh. Add the advance payments for subcontractors, and we’ll need at least 3 lakh.”
Oh ho, he’d even calculated the numbers.
If we needed 3 lakh, then borrowing 6 lakh would give us enough breathing room.
Once exports began, dollars would flow in quickly anyway.
Repayment wouldn’t be an issue.
“Don’t worry. You did more than enough. Leave the rest to me.”
“Leave the rest to you?”
“I’ll show you how this big brother borrows money. You focus on taking care of the factory acquisition. Check the acquisition cost, unpaid wages, office cleanup — everything in advance.”
I handed him the factory ledger I’d brought from Baranagar.
Right now it is called Sunanda Chemical Fabric
Soon it would become Nayara Corporation .
“What? Weren’t you supposed to be finding subcontractors?”
“That’s what I went for. But I realized we need our own factory first. Otherwise we’ll never export proper-quality fabric.”
You’d end up with overpriced junk-quality products.
Cheap goods might sell at first, but the moment a capable competitor appeared, you’d be kicked out of the market instantly.
“We’re building our own factory?”
“We’re not doing business for just a day or two. If we’re starting, we start properly.”
“You… are you insane? Or just brave?”
“What? You should call me smart.”
“Haah…”
Abir let out a long sigh and started scraping up the cold rice from the pot.
His expression screamed, My life is ruined.
He’d probably already quit his old company, and everything I was doing must’ve seemed utterly ridiculous.
His reaction was understandable.
“I’m washing up and going to bed.”
“Oh, and while you’re near Sunanda Chemical Fabric, stop by a company called Pioneer Rayon nearby and pick up some yarn samples. They should be spinning thread right now.”
“…What? Pioneer Rayon ? Yarn samples? Don’t tell me you’re planning to use domestic yarn?”
“Of course.”
“You’ve really decided to go bankrupt!!!”
“If we get caught smuggling, we’re ruined either way.”
“…Why did I quit my job? Why does my friend torment me like this?”
Abir filled a washbasin and began furiously splashing water onto his face.
“How am I tormenting you? I promised you, didn’t I? I’d make you rich!”
“Make me rich… damn it… just help me survive! I’ll carry you on my back for life!”
He suddenly threw the basin water out into the yard in frustration.
But despite all the complaining, he never once said he was quitting.
Reliable bastard.
The next morning, the sun rose once again.
Until the company was fully set up, every second mattered.
Honestly, if we wanted to meet the delivery deadline two months away, we should already have been weaving fabric by now.
“Good luck, Abir.”
“Y-Yes, boss. Please get the money. Please.”
His words were respectful, but his face told a different story.
He pressed his forehead against mine as though making a desperate pledge.
If we failed to secure funding after starting all this, we’d genuinely look like con artists.
“Trust me, Abir.”
“Y-Yes. Of course I trust you.”
I bumped my forehead against his lightly, and eventually he snorted a reluctant laugh before heading toward Dunlop/Baranagar.
For the first time, we headed in completely opposite directions.
My destination today was the Great Eastern Hotel.
「Great Eastern Hotel」
Great Eastern Hotel was one of the defining hotels of the 1950s.
It’s one of the oldest hotels in Calcutta, even in India.
Though it would lose its prestige in the 1970s as newer luxury hotels emerged and its aging facilities became outdated before eventually being demolished, And rebuilt as a brand new luxury hotel, but at this moment it was unquestionably one of India’s finest hotels.
“What the hell? It’s only this many I thought there will be many floors?”
I’d never imagined the famous Great Eastern
Hotel of this era would be this modest.
Next to the hotel, workers were even demolishing old houses and stacking piles of bricks in preparation for new construction.
The idea of major construction happening beside a luxury hotel without even a barrier wall was unimaginable by 21st-century standards.
Still, back then India barely had buildings this tall.
I’d heard the lower half of the building — from the first to fourth floors — had been used as offices, while the upper half functioned as hotel rooms.
Which meant the man I was looking for had to be somewhere in one of the offices between the first and fourth floors.
‘Alfred.
World Bank India officer.’
The man who had brought India the two-hundred-million-dollar loan.
I’d spent the entire morning digging through my contacts to know his name.
To me, he was an angel who might lend me money too.
Find him, Alfred!