The Mahabharata Retold: The Thumb Clause
Copyright© 2025 by Tantrayaan
The Thumb Clause
The studio lights gleamed against the glass panels as the camera floated across the set, catching the edge of the giant LED wall behind the anchor desk. The ticker at the bottom of the screen seemed almost frantic, numbers dancing green and red, but none could compete with the headline blazing in gold:
“EDGEMINDS IPO SHATTERS RECORDS: $18.2 BILLION - INDIA ENTERS THE AI AGE.”
The camera tightened on Neeta Sharma, India’s most trusted business anchor. Her voice carried a rare weight tonight, less like a market update and more like a chronicler of history.
“Good evening, viewers. You’ve seen the ticker, you’ve read the headlines, but let me say it again. EdgeMinds AI has just concluded the largest IPO in India’s history - raising more than eighteen billion dollars. To put that in context, Hyundai Motor India’s offering in 2024 raised 3.3 billion, a record then hailed as impossible to beat. EdgeMinds has multiplied that more than five times over. But more than numbers, this is a turning point. For decades India’s IT industry has been known for services, for talent exported abroad. Tonight, we step onto the global stage as creators - with an innovation born in Chennai, refined in Bangalore, and now celebrated across the world.”
She turned gracefully toward the semicircle of guests seated beside her. “And to help us understand the magnitude of this moment, I am joined by a panel that needs little introduction. Rajiv Mehta, CEO of Infosphere Systems, the man who redefined enterprise software in Asia. Sonal Deshpande, co-founder of QuantumCloud Technologies, whose AI fintech platforms are used by millions. Arunabh Sinha, Chairman of DigiCore Solutions, one of the fathers of our IT infrastructure. Devi Narayanan, CEO of Yantra Labs, strategist, scientist, and though she will blush when I say it, the sister of Bharath Hema - one of the greatest footballers in the world, who himself credits much of his success to her guidance. And finally, Bharath Mahesh, the Georgia Tech alumnus who returned to lead Infosoft into becoming one of India’s greatest companies. Welcome, all of you.”
The camera caught each face in turn - Rajiv leaning forward, calm and analytical; Sonal, smiling with a spark in her eyes; Arunabh, dignified and grave; Devi, poised, her smile modest at the mention of her brother; and Bharath Mahesh, sharp and steady, the weight of his company on his shoulders yet the glint of excitement unmistakable.
Neeta leaned in. “Rajiv, let’s begin with you. For the ordinary Indian watching tonight - the farmer in Mandya, the teacher in Shillong, the shopkeeper in Surat - what does this IPO actually mean?”
Rajiv adjusted his glasses. “Neeta, it means India has shifted from being a participant to being a leader. For years, we’ve been proud of our IT exports, of the brilliance of our engineers. But tonight, the world is looking at something different: a homegrown algorithm, Vajra, that can do what the best of Silicon Valley and Shenzhen cannot. Run advanced AI on the simplest devices. Where others require billion-dollar data centers and the latest GPUs, Vajra runs on a battered desktop, on a ₹5,000 phone, on a medical monitor in a rural clinic. For the people you mentioned - the farmer, the teacher, the shopkeeper - this isn’t just an IPO. This is power, knowledge, and opportunity flowing into their hands.”
The screen behind him flickered to life with a montage: a farmer in Andhra Pradesh holding a basic handset, receiving crop forecasts in Telugu; a girl in Jharkhand bent over a tablet as an AI tutor corrected her grammar in Hindi; a nurse in Patna’s district hospital monitoring vitals on a decade-old machine, now whispering alerts in Bhojpuri.
The images faded back to Rajiv, whose voice softened. “This IPO is not just money for investors. It is reach for India.”
Neeta turned to Sonal. “Sonal, you’ve often compared AI to electricity in the nineteenth century. Why is Vajra different from what the global giants already offer?”
Sonal clasped her hands together. “Because Vajra is for everyone. Today’s models are like luxury palaces: massive, glittering, but inaccessible. They demand cutting-edge chips, cloud subscriptions, energy bills only Fortune 500s can afford. For ordinary Indians, they are irrelevant. Vajra is like the lantern you hang outside your home - small, sturdy, burning bright enough to light the village. It compresses and re-architects intelligence so efficiently that tasks which once required racks of GPUs can run on the humblest processor. That’s why this IPO is not just India catching up - it’s India leapfrogging.”
The screen shifted again: global cloud server farms devouring electricity, compared against a village school running Vajra off solar panels. Sonal gestured toward the image. “This is liberation, Neeta. And let’s be clear: this begins with one man. Professor Raghav Bhattacharya. He built the foundations. He designed the mathematical core. And then, in an act of extraordinary humility, he gave it to his daughter, his brightest student. She has carried it into the world, but the seed - the seed was his.”
The camera cut back to Neeta, her expression tinged with reverence. “Arunabh-ji, you’ve seen this industry rise from the days of dial-up. What strikes you about Professor Raghav tonight?”
The elder statesman folded his hands in his lap. His voice was deliberate, each word chosen. “What strikes me is dharma. I was his student at IIT Madras, forty years ago. To us, he was not merely a professor. He was a god. His chalk strokes were like mantras. His patience, his rigor, his warmth - they gave us courage to dream. While others chased foreign salaries, Raghav stayed. He recorded his lectures and uploaded them freely. He translated his textbooks into half a dozen languages. He visited schools in villages where children sat barefoot on mud floors and taught them to code. He never asked for payment. He never asked for recognition. And yet, the nation insisted on honoring him - Padma Shri, Padma Bhushan, national medals. Not because he desired them, but because he exemplified the nobility of teaching itself. His words to us were simple: ‘Knowledge is not mine to keep. It is mine to give. That is my dharma.’ Tonight, that dharma has given birth to EdgeMinds.”
There was a pause before Neeta spoke again. “And tonight we also have voices of the new guard. Devi Narayanan, CEO of Yantra Labs. You are less known to the public than your brother - the great Bharath Hema, whose name is sung across stadiums as one of the world’s greatest footballers. But he himself has said that his success belongs to you, his strategist. And now, you lead Yantra Labs into global leadership in ethical AI. What does EdgeMinds mean to you?”
Devi gave a modest smile at the mention of her brother before speaking. “Neeta, EdgeMinds matters because it is not just powerful, but responsible. Too often, AI is a commodity controlled by a handful of companies abroad. Their models are large, centralized, and extractive - they harvest data, they lock users out, they decide who benefits. Vajra, by contrast, is lightweight and distributed. It gives control back to the user. A farmer doesn’t need Silicon Valley’s permission to run his forecast. A teacher doesn’t need a foreign subscription to teach her class. EdgeMinds is saying: sovereignty belongs with the people who use the technology. That is why tonight matters.”
The ticker pulsed: YANTRA LABS +12% ON EDGE MINDS PARTNERSHIP.
Neeta turned to the youngest on the panel. “And Bharath Mahesh - you lead Infosoft, one of the crown jewels of Indian tech. You’ve been called one of the great builder-CEOs of our era. What does this moment mean to you personally?”
Bharath’s voice was warm and steady. “Neeta, I was once a boy in Atlanta who dreamed in two languages. I studied at Georgia Tech, but I always knew I would return. When I came back to lead Infosoft, I knew India had the raw talent, the hunger. What we lacked was a spark. Tonight, EdgeMinds is that spark. Ananya Bhattacharya is that spark. She embodies what every Indian parent dreams of: brilliance, humility, courage. And her father, Professor Raghav - he is what every student dreams of: a teacher who never withholds. This IPO is not just a financial event. It is a cultural milestone. India is not merely consuming AI. India is creating it.”
The camera cut back to Neeta, her voice low and deliberate now. “Viewers, you have heard it. A father who gave his life to democratizing knowledge. A daughter who has turned that gift into a company that vows to revolutionize every corner of our economy. EdgeMinds has two arms - a commercial wing that powers global industry, and a pro bono arm that uplifts NGOs, farmers, teachers, and small businesses. Their motto? Sarvesam Bhavisya - together, into the future. Tonight, it feels less like a slogan and more like a promise.”
The screen filled with a fresh montage: a farmer smiling as Vajra predicted rainfall; a schoolteacher in Kashmir using an AI translator; a factory line in Pune humming more efficiently; children in a village sharing a solar-powered tablet.
Neeta looked up. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, all of this converges at the Palace Grounds in Bangalore. More than twenty thousand people have gathered to celebrate the largest IPO in our history. You’ve heard the analysts. Now, it’s time to hear from the woman at the center of it all - Ananya Bhattacharya.”
The feed cut from studio to stadium. The Palace Grounds blazed with light, fireworks crackling over the turrets. The roar of the crowd was deafening. Drones swooped over banners of the tricolor and giant Vajra logos glowing on screens the size of buildings.
The announcer’s voice thundered, echoing through the grounds and across every television set in India.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we make history. Tonight, India enters the AI age not as a follower but as a leader. Please welcome to the stage - the pride of our nation, the youngest CEO to take a company public, the woman whose vision is shaping our future - Ananya Bhattacharya!”
The crowd erupted, twenty thousand voices shaking the ground. The camera zoomed in as Ananya stepped into the spotlight, radiant in a silk sari tailored with modern lines, her hair in a sleek bun, her smile as dazzling as the fireworks above. She waved, her laughter caught by the microphone, and every heart seemed to leap with her.
And as the nation held its breath, the speech began.
The roar of the Palace Grounds was like the sea, twenty thousand strong, lit by floodlights and fireworks, their voices carrying into the Bangalore night. The tricolor shimmered on every giant screen, and above it blazed the words:
Sarvesam Bhavisya - Together, to the Future.
Ananya Bhattacharya stood at the center of it all, radiant in a silver-blue silk sari with modern lines, the EdgeMinds logo pinned discreetly at her shoulder. Her smile was broad, her eyes alight, her voice carried with the confidence of someone who had been groomed for greatness and had embraced it fully.
She raised her hand and the crowd quieted, but their energy thrummed, electric, waiting for her words.
“Tonight,” she began, her voice warm, lilting, full of charisma, “is not my night. It is our night. Yours, mine, all of ours together. EdgeMinds does not belong to me. It belongs to every engineer who stayed up through the night debugging code until their eyes blurred. To every designer who redrew interfaces a hundred times until a farmer in Andhra could read it easily. To every teacher who trained a generation to think critically, and every small-town dreamer who believed in us when no one else did.
This belongs to India. And tonight, India steps into the future.”
The audience roared, a chant rising, but she lifted her hand again, her tone softening.
“I want to begin by thanking the people who built this dream. My team - my family. The engineers, researchers, our partners, our investors, and every person who took a leap of faith with us. You carried us on your shoulders. And tonight, the world stands in awe of what you’ve done.”
She gestured toward the front rows, where rows of EdgeMinds employees stood, clapping and laughing through tears.
“But above all,” she said, her eyes shining now, “I want to thank one man. The man without whom none of this would exist. A man who is more than my father. He is my guru. He is my anchor. He is my hero. Professor Raghav Bhattacharya.”
The crowd erupted. The cameras zoomed in on the silver-haired man in the front row. He was rising to his feet, embarrassed, his hands fluttering as if to wave away the attention. But the ovation swelled louder, rolling over him like thunder. People chanted his name:
“Raghav! Raghav! Raghav!”
Tears glistened in his eyes as he pressed his palms together, bowing to the crowd. Beside him, Dev clapped earnestly, his cheeks flushed with quiet embarrassment, but the camera cut away quickly.
Ananya let the noise roll, then spoke again, her voice rising over it.
“You call him the architect of Vajra. The genius who imagined what others thought impossible - intelligence that could run anywhere, on anything, for anyone. And yes, he is all of that. But to me, he is more. To me, he is the man who sacrificed everything - his comfort, his ambition, his recognition - so that the world could have this moment.”
Her words hung in the air. The camera panned across the audience, faces rapt, many mouthing the word sacrifice.
“Do you know what it means,” she continued, “to give your life to teaching? To walk away from riches, from fame, from the allure of foreign shores, to stand in a classroom in Chennai? To pour your heart into chalkboards and textbooks, into recordings and free videos, into translations for children you may never meet? He could have led any lab in Silicon Valley. He could have built empires. But he chose to stay here, in India, because his dharma was clear. He is a teacher. His dharma is education.”
A montage filled the giant screen behind her - archival clips of Raghav in a modest classroom at IIT Madras, chalk flying across a blackboard while students scribbled frantically. Footage of him recording lectures late into the night, his voice patient, his explanations simple yet profound. A grainy video of him in a dusty Odisha village, surrounded by barefoot children who laughed as they typed their first lines of code on battered computers.
Ananya turned back to the crowd, her voice softer now. “I grew up with this. I watched my father live for his students. I watched him choose their future over his own comforts. I watched him give and give and give, never asking for a thing in return. Not money, not fame. Only the joy of seeing knowledge spread. That is who he is.”
The screen was now filled with images of his books: The Architecture of Intelligence, translated into multiple Indian languages. Mathematics for the Mind, an open-source text used in schools across Asia. And clips of his awards, the Padma Shri, the Padma Bhushan, as presidents and prime ministers placed medals around his neck.
“But even those honors,” Ananya said, “were not what mattered to him. Do you know what he told me, after receiving his medals? He said: Ananya, my dharma is not to seek fame. My dharma is to give knowledge. Everything else is dust.”
The crowd erupted in applause, but this was different now - not wild cheering, but reverent. One would be hard pressed to find someone with dry eyes in the audience.
“And then,” she continued, her voice thick with emotion, “there was his greatest achievement. The work of decades. The culmination of a lifetime of thought. Vajra. An algorithm so powerful, so efficient, so revolutionary that the world had never seen anything like it. And what did he do?”
She paused, letting the silence build. The cameras found Raghav again, his lips pressed tight, tears streaming freely down his cheeks.
“He gave it away,” Ananya said, her voice breaking slightly. “He gave it to me. His daughter. His student. His disciple. He handed me his greatest work and said: Take it forward. Polish it. Shape it and release it to the world. He gave me his life’s work as a gift. What greater sacrifice can a teacher make?”
The crowd gasped, many on their feet now, clapping furiously. The cameras swept across them - young engineers, old professors, industry leaders, all moved.
“This company you see before you,” she continued, her arms sweeping out across the stage, “is not mine. It is his. It is yours. It belongs to every student who learned from his lectures, every young engineer who grew up with his books, every child in a village who typed her first code because of his videos. It belongs to every person he touched with his dharma. EdgeMinds is the flowering of his seed. And I am privileged to be one of the gardeners who tended it.”
The crowd surged into another chant:
“Raghav! Raghav! Raghav!”
Raghav bowed again, overwhelmed, his hands trembling as he pressed them together.
Ananya’s voice rose again, firm, commanding. “And that dharma - Sarvesam Bhavisya - is now our motto. Together, to the future. It means we take no one for granted. We leave no one behind. This company has two arms. The first, our commercial wing, will bring Vajra into every major industry - from banking to medicine, from logistics to energy. We will make India the hub of global intelligence.
But the second, our pro bono wing, will carry Vajra into the fields of Elango in Kumbakonam, into the shop of Bikram in Gangtok, into the classroom of Neha in Purvanchal. For them, AI will not be a distant dream. It will be a daily reality. They will learn faster, trade smarter, heal better. They will discover and invent things even we cannot imagine.
No longer will knowledge be the privilege of the few. It will be the birthright of all.”
The screen behind her filled again - Elango receiving rainfall forecasts on his phone, Bikram analyzing markets in Bhutia, Neha solving physics problems with her AI tutor. The crowd roared, but many in the front rows - young engineers, professors, alumni of Raghav’s classes - were openly weeping.
Ananya turned again, her voice softer now, confessional. “When I was little, I thought my father was the strictest man alive. He never let me off easy. He demanded I work harder than everyone else. At home, he was loving, yes. Doting. He tucked me into bed, he told me stories, he celebrated my birthdays. But at school, in the lab, in the office - he was unrelenting. I would come to him with a code I thought was brilliant, and he would look at it and say, ‘Do it again.’ I would cry. I would beg. And he would say, ‘Do it again.’ Until it was right. Until it was excellent.
And now, I see what he gave me. Not just his knowledge. Not just Vajra. He gave me his standard. His belief that I could be more. His faith that I could carry his dharma forward. Tonight, everything I am, everything EdgeMinds is - belongs to him.”
The crowd was on its feet again, thunderous. Fireworks burst overhead, casting the Palace Grounds in showers of light.
Raghav beamed through his tears, overwhelmed with pride. Dev clapped beside him, his expression moved by emotion.
On stage, Ananya lifted her arms. “Sarvesam Bhavisya!”
The crowd roared back, louder, unified.
“Sarvesam Bhavisya!”
The chant echoed into the night, drowning out even the fireworks.
And there, at the heart of the celebration, the guru beamed, his daughter glowed, and the nation celebrated the triumph of dharma.
The chant of “Sarvesam Bhavisya!” rolled across Palace Grounds like monsoon surf breaking on a wide beach. Spotlights combed the night. Confetti cannons sighed, then went still. Ananya waited-breath measured, eyes bright-until twenty thousand people settled again into a listening hush.
“When we designed Vajra,” she began, her voice low and precise, “we did not only design an algorithm. We designed a promise. That no child’s future will hinge on one gate, one gatekeeper, one person’s permission. That every home will have a tireless teacher. That no mind will ever again be stranded for want of access, or silenced by someone else’s pride. That is the oath we took. And this is why.”
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