January 28–February 4, 1986, London and Mumbai*
The London skyline glittered under a frosty January moon as Raj Mehra spent his final week in the UK, his ambition undimmed by the chilly air. With Claire Evans by his side, his tailored suits and confident stride turned heads at every venue. Raj's secret calculations, a predictive edge from his 2025 life, had already turned 50 lakhs into 10 crore through casino wins and horse race bets. Now, he set his sights on football matches, a new frontier for his financial conquests. Over seven days, he bet 1 crore (£50,000) across seven matches, targeting underdog teams like Tottenham Hotspur and Leicester City, whose odds his calculations deemed mispriced. Each bet, carefully placed at London's elite betting parlors, yielded a staggering 5 crore (£250,000), as his chosen teams defied expectations with narrow victories. Spectators at betting lounges, sipping whisky and eyeing Raj's calm precision, whispered about the "lucky Indian," but Raj's wins were no fluke.
He didn't stop there. Raj frequented casinos like Aspinalls and Crockfords, playing blackjack and roulette with surgical accuracy, netting 2 crore (£100,000) over multiple sessions. At Sandown Park, he bet on horse races, backing longshots like Red Rum's successors, earning another 1 crore (£50,000). By February 3, his total London earnings reached 18 crore—10 crore from earlier wins, 5 crore from football, and 3 crore from casinos and races. With 9 crore already transferred to *Pragarti Venture*'s UK account, Raj kept 9 crore liquid, planning his return to India. On February 4, he and Claire parted ways after a cordial farewell, her £14,000 payment (1000 per day) a small dent in his fortune. Raj boarded a flight to Mumbai, the city's humid embrace welcoming him back as he landed at Sahar Airport.
In India, *Love Train* was gaining momentum. Its first week had earned 5 lakhs, a modest start, but word-of-mouth had propelled second-week collections to 15 lakhs, totaling 20 lakhs. With 30 lakhs invested, only 10 lakhs remained to break even, a milestone Raj's calculations predicted within days. The film's emotional depth, Priya Menon's directorial flair, and its catchy soundtrack were drawing crowds, with Mumbai's theaters reporting packed evening shows. Raj smiled, knowing the projected 5-crore profit was within reach.
Exhausted from travel, Raj returned to his villa, where Kamla Aunty greeted him with a steaming plate of pav bhaji. He sank into his bed, the familiar creak of the mattress a comfort after London's whirlwind. Sleep claimed him, dreams of Mumbai's skyline blending with London's neon lights.
The next morning, February 5, Raj drove his Hindustan Contessa to Karma Productions, the office buzzing with activity. Shyam Rao, his trusted uncle, handed him a ledger detailing *Love Train*'s collections. "It's picking up, Raj," Shyam said, his grizzled face breaking into a rare smile. "Word's spreading—college kids, families, everyone's talking about it." Raj reviewed the numbers, approved a promotional push for tier-2 cities, and settled pending contracts for *Pyar Kiya*'s post-production. With Karma Productions humming, he headed to *Mehra Book House* in Dadar, the publishing studio's new presses gleaming under fluorescent lights.
There, Raj met V. Vijayendra Prasad, the intern whose storytelling prowess had already impressed him. Vijayendra, his eyes alight with creative fervor, handed Raj a revised *Baahubali Chapter 1* manuscript. "It'll be finalized in a week," he said, his voice steady. "I've tightened the dialogues, deepened Shivudu's motivations, and made Mahishmati feel alive." Raj skimmed the pages, captivated by the vivid prose—Shivudu's climb up the waterfall thundered with intensity, and Katappa's betrayal cut deeper. "This is exceptional," Raj said, clapping Vijayendra's shoulder. "It's going to be a bestseller." Vijayendra nodded, his focus returning to the manuscript, determined to perfect it.
Next, Raj met Lalit Modi, the book house manager, a meticulous man in his forties with a knack for organization. "Boss, we've filtered 30 book proposals from recent submissions," Lalit said, placing a stack of manuscripts on Raj's desk. Raj reviewed them, his mind analyzing each for market potential:
- **Love Stories**: 12 manuscripts, mostly predictable romances. [No returns: Saturated market.]
- **Horror**: 8 manuscripts, varying from ghost tales to thrillers. [Mixed potential, but too niche.]
- **Historical**: 6 manuscripts, detailing battles and dynasties. [One standout.]
- **Others**: 4 sci-fi and fantasy, too experimental for 1986 India. [No returns.]
Three books stood out:
1. **Panipat: The War Part 1** (Historical): A gripping account of the 1761 battle, blending strategy and human drama. [Projected: 50 lakhs in 1 year.]
2. **Ganga Ghat** (Love Story): A poignant romance set in Varanasi, rich with cultural depth. [Projected: 30 lakhs in 1 year.]
3. **Chudal** (Horror): A chilling tale of a vengeful spirit in rural Bengal. [Projected: 20 lakhs in 1 year.]
"Lalit, print 10,000 copies of each," Raj instructed. "If they sell out, print 20,000 more, then increase by 20,000 each cycle." Lalit nodded, jotting down the orders.
Raj's next stop was the Reserve Bank of India's Mumbai office to transfer his 9-crore UK earnings to India. The process was grueling—forms, approvals, and a 5-crore tax deduction, leaving him with 4 crore. Raj's jaw tightened as he signed the papers, his mind racing. "Next time, I'll find a way to keep every rupee," he vowed silently, already plotting offshore strategies. He drove to Rajnath Gupta's brokerage in Fort, where the air buzzed with ticker tapes. Rajnath presented five companies—textiles, cement, and consumer goods. Raj's calculations pinpointed three for an 8-crore return on a 4-crore investment in 30 days. He committed the funds, but Rajnath warned, "Taxes will hit again—expect 6 crore from this and earlier profits to go to income tax." Raj nodded, his frustration mounting but his resolve firm.
His final stop was *The Bharat Front*'s office, its presses humming with activity. The newspaper's circulation had soared, its stock tips driving the Sensex to 625 points. Raj reviewed the financials—50 lakhs monthly revenue—and instructed the editor to shift stock tips to a biweekly column, featuring two companies with a guaranteed 2% return in one month (e.g., Tata Chemicals, ACC Cement). "Starting next month, make it monthly," Raj said, ensuring sustained influence without flooding the market.
Exhausted, Raj returned to his villa, the city's lights fading behind him. He collapsed onto his bed, the weight of his 22-crore net worth—7 crore personal, 14 crore in *Pragarti Venture*, 1 crore in assets—tempered by tax frustrations. *Love Train*'s rise, *Baahubali*'s promise, and his new books fueled his ambition. As sleep overtook him, Raj dreamed of a tax-free empire, his calculations guiding him toward even greater heights.