Instead of refusing old TVs, he posted a sign: "No TV is too old. If we can't fix it, we'll recycle it for free." People brought in 15-year-old CRTs. He couldn't always fix them, but he earned their trust. And when they finally decided to buy a new TV, they didn't go to Amazon. They came back to Rajiv.
Customers walked in, stared at the 4K QLED screens, then pulled out their phones. "Bhaiya, Amazon pe yeh 5,000 rupaye sasta hai," they would say, before leaving. The big brands had stopped sending spare parts for older models. The younger generation wanted "smart" features, not just a good picture tube.
Rajiv had inherited "Sharma Electronics" from his father, a small shop wedged between a chai stall and a sari emporium in old Delhi. For thirty years, the business had a simple rhythm: sell a TV, fix a TV, repeat. But now, the world had changed.
Within six months, the shop changed. People weren't just buying TVs; they were buying a relationship. A young mother came in because her toddler had broken the HDMI port. A college student came because he couldn't cast his lecture to the screen. A grandfather came because he forgot how to switch from "HDMI 1" to "HDMI 2."
So, Rajiv didn't try to compete with Amazon's prices. Instead, he transformed the apne TV biz into something the giants couldn't touch.
Instead of refusing old TVs, he posted a sign: "No TV is too old. If we can't fix it, we'll recycle it for free." People brought in 15-year-old CRTs. He couldn't always fix them, but he earned their trust. And when they finally decided to buy a new TV, they didn't go to Amazon. They came back to Rajiv.
Customers walked in, stared at the 4K QLED screens, then pulled out their phones. "Bhaiya, Amazon pe yeh 5,000 rupaye sasta hai," they would say, before leaving. The big brands had stopped sending spare parts for older models. The younger generation wanted "smart" features, not just a good picture tube. apne tv biz
Rajiv had inherited "Sharma Electronics" from his father, a small shop wedged between a chai stall and a sari emporium in old Delhi. For thirty years, the business had a simple rhythm: sell a TV, fix a TV, repeat. But now, the world had changed. Instead of refusing old TVs, he posted a
Within six months, the shop changed. People weren't just buying TVs; they were buying a relationship. A young mother came in because her toddler had broken the HDMI port. A college student came because he couldn't cast his lecture to the screen. A grandfather came because he forgot how to switch from "HDMI 1" to "HDMI 2." And when they finally decided to buy a
So, Rajiv didn't try to compete with Amazon's prices. Instead, he transformed the apne TV biz into something the giants couldn't touch.
