1983 - The Sharma Bungalow, Juhu
The humid Bombay afternoon was softened by the rhythmic swish of the ceiling fans in the Sharma bungalow. The house was alive with the sound of a harmonium being tuned in a distant room and the smell of fresh vada pav drifting from the kitchen. For Ashutosh, now nine years old, this wasn't a social visit; it was a strategic scouting mission. He sat on a high-backed teak chair, his small frame seemingly at odds with the gravity of his expression.
Across from him sat the two pillars of his future "Trilogy" dream. Govinda, at nineteen, was a bundle of electric energy, his body lean and flexible, ready to dance at the slightest hum of a melody. Beside him stood a lanky, eighteen-year-old youth with intense, deep-set eyes and a slightly nervous habit of running his fingers through his thick, messy hair.
"So, this is the boy who saved my sister," Govinda said, his voice full of genuine warmth. He leaned over and ruffled Ashutosh's hair. "He looks like he's about to give a lecture on the national economy rather than play a game of cricket."
"I don't play games, Govinda-bhaiya," Ashutosh replied, his voice calm and surprisingly deep for his age. He looked at the other youth. "And you must be Shah Rukh. I've heard you've been doing theatre in Delhi. My Uncle Atmaprakash says you have a certain... hunger."
Shah Rukh Khan chuckled, a flash of the dimples that would one day drive millions mad appearing for a split second. "Hunger is a polite word for it, kid. I'm mostly just tired of being told I don't have a 'hero's face.' Apparently, my nose is too big for the silver screen."
Ashutosh hopped down from the chair and walked over to the teenager. He used his [Acting Coach Lv 1] and [Director's Vision Lv 1] to scan the boy. The system's blue hue highlighted Shah Rukh's latent talent—a raw, untapped reservoir of emotional depth.
"Your nose isn't the problem, Shah Rukh-bhaiya," Ashutosh said, standing directly in front of him. "The problem is that you are trying to be a hero when you should be a lover. A hero fights for himself. A lover fights for the world. Acting is not about talking; it's about the eyes. You have eyes that look like they are searching for a home, and that is a story people will pay to see."
The room went quiet. Govinda stopped his rhythmic tapping. Even Atmaprakash, who was entering with a tray of tea, paused in the doorway. The weight of the child's words was too heavy for his age.
"You speak like a veteran of the Prithvi Theatre," Shah Rukh whispered, his skepticism fading into genuine curiosity. "Where did a nine-year-old from Varanasi learn to talk like a director?"
"I don't learn, I observe," Ashutosh lied smoothly. He reached into his leather satchel and pulled out a single, handwritten sheet of paper. "I wrote a scene. It's for a film I will make when I am eighteen. I want you to read it. Don't 'act' for me. Don't use your projecting theatre voice. Just read it as if you are standing on a bridge, and the person you love is walking away, and you know that if you let her go, your heart will stop beating."
Shah Rukh took the paper. He expected a child's scribble about kings and queens. Instead, he found a prototype of the "Palat" (Turn) logic—a nuanced, modern take on romantic yearning. He cleared his throat and began to read.
As he spoke the lines, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The humid Bombay air seemed to cool. Shah Rukh's posture changed; he slumped slightly, his gaze becoming distant and filled with a sudden, sharp pain. The vulnerability he displayed was staggering.
"Stop," Ashutosh commanded after a minute.
Shah Rukh snapped out of it, blinking. He looked at the paper, then at Ashutosh, his hand trembling slightly. "What... what was that? Those lines feel like they were pulled out of my own head."
"That is the power of a script that understands the human heart," Ashutosh said, taking the paper back. "Govinda-bhaiya will be the energy of Trinity. He will be the one who makes India dance. But you? You will be the soul. You will be the one who makes the world fall in love."
"Trinity?" Govinda asked, leaning in. "You're still on about that name, Ashu?"
"It's no longer just a name, Bhaiya," Ashutosh said, his eyes flashing with a Fiery intensity. "It is an empire. And today, I am making a pact with both of you. You don't have to sign anything. But in ten years, when I come back to Bombay with a camera and a budget that will make the Kapoors weep, you will both be there. You will be my first 'Trilogy' stars."
Govinda laughed, clapping Ashutosh on the back. "A pact it is! I'll keep practicing my dancing, Boss. But only if you promise to keep Savitri-bhabhi's pickles coming to Bombay!"
Shah Rukh, however, didn't laugh. He looked at the nine-year-old with a level of respect that bordered on fear. "I'll be waiting, Ashutosh. I don't know why, but I believe you."
As the evening progressed, the "slice of life" returned. They sat on the floor, eating spicy snacks and listening to Govinda narrate hilarious stories of his failed auditions. Ashutosh listened, laughing along, but his mind was already mapping out the next decade. He watched how Shah Rukh and Govinda interacted—one the fire, the other the earth.
"So, Ashu," Padma said, entering the room with little Krushna on her hip. "If you're going to be a big director, what's your first rule on set?"
Ashutosh looked at his family and his future stars. "Punctuality and Purity," he said. "The product must be pure, and the time must be respected. Just like Pathak Masala."
They all burst into laughter, thinking he was just a loyal son promoting his father's business. Only Ashutosh knew that he was serious. The discipline of the factory would be the discipline of his film sets.
That night, as he lay on the guest bed listening to the distant sound of the Arabian Sea, Ashutosh opened his system.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[CORE BOND ESTABLISHED: THE KING AND THE HERO]
[REWARD: 1,000 Skill Points (Visionary Recruitment)]
[CURRENT BALANCE: 7,100 Skill Points]