January 1993 – Saanen, Switzerland
The transition from the sweltering, golden heat of Punjab to the crisp, bone-chilling air of the Swiss Alps was a shock to everyone's system except Ashutosh's. Standing at the edge of a snow-dusted plateau in Saanen, the eighteen-year-old director looked more like a mountain guide than a filmmaker. His Stage 4 Physique was a biological fortress; while the crew shivered in heavy parkas, Ashutosh stood comfortably in a thermal tactical jacket, his 100% improved mental processing already calculating the refraction of sunlight hitting the glaciers.
"Ananya, check the temperature on the camera heaters!" Ashutosh shouted over the whistling wind. "If those German sensors freeze, we're losing fifty lakhs a day!"
"Heaters are at optimal, Bhaiya!" Ananya yelled back, her breath hitching in the cold. She was bundled up in a fur-lined coat, her face red but her eyes sharp. "But we have a bigger problem. The local Swiss technical team says the bridge we rented for the 'climax' scene is structurally compromised by the recent blizzard. They've cordoned it off. We can't shoot there for at least a week."
Ashutosh gritted his teeth. In a 10 Crore budget, a week's delay in Switzerland—where every hotel room and transport bus cost a premium in Francs—was a financial disaster.
"We don't have a week," Ashutosh said, walking toward the restricted zone. "Show me the bridge."
He arrived at the site to find the Swiss safety officer, a stern man named Hans, shaking his head. "It is impossible, Mr. Pathak. The ice has crept into the steel joints. If you put a heavy camera crane and a crew of twenty on that span, it could buckle. We wait for the thaw."
Ashutosh looked at the bridge. His Director's Vision Lv 5 scanned the architecture, while his Mental Processing simulated the weight distribution. He wasn't just a director; he was a man who had spent years studying the physics of structure during his time in New York.
"We don't need a crane on the bridge," Ashutosh stated, turning to Ansh, who had traveled with them to manage the technical hardware. "Ansh-bhaiya, remember the stabilizer rigs we discussed in London? The ones used for mountain documentaries?"
"The wire-cam system?" Ansh asked, his eyes lighting up. "I have the pulleys and the high-tension cables, but we've never used them for a feature film. It's risky."
"It's only risky if you don't know the math," Ashutosh replied. "We'll anchor the cables to the solid rock faces on either side of the gorge. We'll suspend the Arri 535 on a remote-operated gimbal. The bridge only needs to support the two actors. Shah Rukh and Kajol weigh less than 130 kilos combined. The bridge can handle that easily."
Hans looked skeptical. "Remote filming? In these winds? You will get shaky footage, no?"
"Not with the gyroscopic stabilizers Ansh has built," Ashutosh said firmly. "We aren't waiting for the thaw, Hans. We're going over it."
*********
While the technical team scrambled to set up the wire-rig, the something was unfolding in a nearby wooden chalet that Trinity had rented as a base camp. Savitri and Nani Gayatri had refused to let the "foreigners" feed the crew. They had converted the chalet's high-end kitchen into a bustling Indian rasoi.
The aroma of steaming Sambar and fresh Parathas wafted through the pine trees, clashing wonderfully with the Swiss mountain air.
"I don't care if it's the Alps or the Himalayas," Savitri said, handing a bowl of hot Gajar ka Halwa to a shivering Swiss grip-assistant. "A man cannot work if his blood is cold. Eat, eat! It has extra nuts for energy!"
Shah Rukh sat by the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, laughing as Nani Gayatri insisted on applying a herbal balm to his forehead to prevent a cold.
"Nani, I'm supposed to be a cool, London-bred hero," Shah Rukh joked. "If the fans see me with Ayurvedic balm on my face, my career is over!"
"Your career will be over if you're sneezing during the song, beta," Nani replied firmly. "Now, sit still. Ashu is working like a demon out there; the least you can do is stay healthy for his shots."
Dada Vishwanath Pathak sat by the window, sipping warm milk and watching the crew struggle with the cables. "Raghunath," he said to his son, "Our Ashu... he doesn't see obstacles. He only sees engineering problems. It's a dangerous way to live, but a magnificent way to build an empire."
Raghunath nodded, looking at the budget sheets. "He's already saved us four days of hotel costs by inventing this wire-rig on the fly. The boy is worth more than the 10 Crores we're spending."
********
By afternoon, the rig was ready. The camera hung suspended over the terrifying drop of the gorge, perfectly stable despite the biting wind. Shah Rukh and Kajol took their places on the bridge, the snow crunching under their boots.
"This is the heart of the film," Ashutosh's voice boomed through the radio headsets. "Kajol, you are leaving your past behind. Shah Rukh, you are the bridge to her future. Don't act. Just feel the cold and the distance between you."
As the mandolin music began—the 10-Crore, Prague-recorded symphony—the remote camera glided effortlessly through the air. The footage on Ashutosh's monitor was breathtaking. It had a sweeping, cinematic scale that no Indian film had ever achieved. The Swiss safety officer, Hans, stood behind Ashutosh, staring at the screen in silence.
"I have seen many Hollywood crews come to these mountains," Hans whispered. "They bring more people, more noise. but they do not have this... this soul. And your 'wire-rig'... it is genius."
Ashutosh didn't look away from the monitor. "In India, Hans, we don't have the luxury of waiting for the weather. We make our own luck."
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[SKILL UPGRADE: DIRECTOR'S VISION REACHED LV 6 (EXPERT)]
[REWARD: 15,000 SKILL POINTS]
[CURRENT BALANCE: 42,100 SKILL POINTS]
The sun began to dip behind the peaks, painting the snow in shades of violet and gold. The shot was perfect.
"Cut!" Ashutosh roared, a rare, genuine smile breaking across his face. "That's a wrap for Switzerland! Pack it up! We're heading back to Bombay for the final edit. Diwali is ten months away, and we have a world to conquer."
As the crew cheered, Ashutosh looked at the horizon. The pre-production and filming were done. Now, the real battle began in the dark rooms of the editing suite and the boardrooms of the distributors.
'Diwali 1993,' he thought. 'The King is coming home.'