Chapter 13: Bombay & Bollywood
16 September 1970
He awoke early, as always. The cool breeze coming from the Arabian Sea sharpened his alertness. Jogging quietly along Marine Drive, he passed silent morning runners, newspaper vendors sorting broadsheets, and a few yawning constables lighting cigarettes under shutters.
After breakfast, he arrived at Tej Singh Films, one of several middling studios dotting Bombay's ever-churning film scene.
The studio had once produced reasonably successful mid-budget films in the romantic drama and poetic tragedy genres. But in recent years, a combination of creative stagnation, poor marketing, internal corruption, and shifting audience tastes had buried the enterprise under financial ruin.
The studio's five-story building stood in a quieter pocket of the city, its paint cracked by monsoon seasons and its name fading beneath rusted lettering. Once active, the company had fallen into ruin. The last three films produced had failed at the box office. Staff morale was low, equipment half-broken. Yet Vikram saw opportunity.
He already knew every detail.
The purchase, finalized that morning with a lawyer accompanying him, proceeded smoothly. The entire enterprise—real estate, studio rights, editing suites, camera equipment, partial film rights, and storage holdings—was acquired for a negligible sum of ₹50,000.
After concluding all documentation and transferring ownership, the old owner departed in silence, briefcase in hand. The lawyer tipped his hat and left as well.
Vikram now stood alone in his new domain.
Floor by floor, he inspected every part of the facility. The first and second floors held props and fragile filming lighting. The third floor still had functioning audio booths for dubbing and playback. The fourth floor was the administrative hub. The fifth was an apartment fully built with five rooms, a hall, kitchen, and bathroom—likely a luxury perk, still completely clean.
With the property secured, he summoned Mark 1, Mark 2, and Mark 3, his AI robot, into action.
They had a new objective: to begin acquisition of 1,000 cinema halls in city center across India.
Each is now ripe for acquisition at prices between ₹2–3 lakh per venue and the acquisition of all the cinemas must be completed by march next year.
At ₹20–30 crores in total valuation, the acquisitions would take some time but can still be completed with the power of money.
The real opportunity came from the very fear created by Mr. Bharat. The very politicians, land mafia agents, and syndicate enforcers that once operated these movie halls were now dead—executed for their corruption. Their seized properties were trickling into bank foreclosure, their debts unpaid.
Already, Vikram knew of at least 200 cinema halls located in urbar areas entering auction by the banks.
Vikram has planned to talk with the bank to package all these cinema halls together and sell it directly with 30% to 40% payment, and rest can be secured with loans taken by them only.
As for the rest of the cinemas, bank loans could be used to acquire them, and paperwork would be handled across dummy holding companies. Vikram would later retrofit and renovate the theatres into modern multiplexes, but the things that can be done easily right after acquiring these movie theatres are:
1. Adding 20-30 recliner and sofa seats, some couple seats and give them premium services at premium price like 10-15 rupees per person, nowadays a normal ticket costs 2-5 rupees in urban areas, this will increase total box office of the movies without too much effort.
2. Selling popcorn, samosas, and cold drinks—even Vikram's own formula beverages—would inject further profitability.
3. Clean bathrooms, family-friendly interiors, and dimmed lighting systems could attract more people, especially high net worth individuals, to the movie theater.
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He them summoned the current studio manager to his office. Upon shaking hands, the system passively activated memory extraction. Vikram saw the man's full past—decades of petty corruption, falsified invoices, film fund embezzlement, and sexual harassment toward junior employees.
Vikram calmly handed him a sealed envelope containing salary and termination letters.
The manager left in silence. Quiet rage simmered behind his eyes, but Vikram knew he would never dare strike back.
Later, he called in a female employee whose face and figure the previous manager had leered at in memory, but who had demonstrated professionalism and loyalty. Her name was Priya Verma, and she had kept the studio functional during its decline. Vikram promoted her on the spot. She would become his trusted operations lead.
After holding a full meeting with the remaining 50 staff members, he offered a graceful exit to anyone who wished to leave. Seven employees stepped away. The rest, sensing the tide was turning, chose to remain.
Priya joined him afterward in the new executive office. Vikram handed her two thick documents—movie scripts developed using future insights, genres, and audience profiles gathered from his past life and system data.
He instructed her to prepare both projects immediately. Actors could be new, unknown—but they must be talented. He valued quality over celebrity and immersion over fanfare.
To facilitate the launch, he handed her two bank cheques worth ₹50 lakhs each, totaling ₹1 crore. The sum was vast by contemporary film standards and enough to ensure near-total production freedom if we use a less famous actor and 80 lac to 1 crore would be more than enough and Amitabh bachchan has recently debut so his fee will be much less and we can easily sign a long term contract with with and other such actors and actress who has not yet became famous.
He told her plainly that these films were not meant only to earn profit.
He wanted to tell stories that reflected India truthfully, not caricatured through colonial embarrassment or foreign appeasement. Bollywood, in his memory, had become a parody of itself—attacking its own heritage, mocking languages and traditions, and glorifying imported ideologies while ridiculing its priests, soldiers, and freedom fighters.
That era, he resolved, would not come again. Not if he could help it.
Let popular perception shift. Let the nation see itself with pride for once. Let films whisper clarity where propaganda screamed confusion.
The foundation had been laid.
Within days, India's cultural narrative would begin to shift—slowly, powerfully, and invisibly. One story at a time.
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