The very next morning, Atreyapuram village woke up to a new piece of gossip hotter than fresh idlis at the tiffin center. Everywhere you went, whispers ran like wildfire:
"Did you hear? Gadhiraju's little fellow deposited forty-five thousand yesterday!"
"Ayyo! Forty-five thousand? In one day?"
"Not just that… he went house to house like a politician with Tamboolam!"
"Tamboolam aa? With gold coins! And silver coins too!"
Within hours, the village square was buzzing. Women drawing rangolis paused to giggle, "Our kids cry for chocolates… but this fellow cries for returns." The toddy shop regulars, half-drowsy, muttered, "Mark my words, that boy will open a chit fund company before his beard grows."
The funniest was old Lakshmi Ammayi, who swore she saw Dilli counting money with one hand while sipping Boost with the other.
By afternoon, a small crowd of kids gathered outside his home, whispering:
"Deepu anna… if we touch your feet, will you give us silver coins?"
"Deepu bhai, can you get us returns on our pocket money?"
One bold kid even asked, "Anna, do you give loans? Small amount, just 10 rupees interest-free?"
Dilli, enjoying the spotlight, puffed out his chest like a mini-CEO and said, "Loans I won't give, but… investments… hmm, maybe!" His father, overhearing, nearly fainted.
The Digital Gamble
Later that night, when the house had quieted down, Dilli switched on the old desktop computer — his "treasure chest" from 2003. Back in his first life, he used it to play Road Rash and watch pirated CDs. But this time, the glow of the CRT monitor looked like a gateway to his empire.
He carefully typed into the Netscape browser: Bet365.com.
The site loaded slowly, line by line, pixel by pixel. Dilli grinned. "Reliable then, reliable now," he whispered, remembering his past life up to 2025.
Creating the account was tricky. He needed a PAN, a bank account, and details only an adult would normally manage. But thanks to his father's trust and his great-grandpa's blessing, he had all three. He finessed the forms with the seriousness of a monk writing scriptures.
Then came the big moment. He transferred the amount — ₹1,95,000 — directly into his Bet365 wallet. Watching the balance appear on the screen felt like lightning in his veins.
"Now the world is my playground," he muttered, clicking through cricket, tennis, football, boxing, and MMA events — all outcomes he already knew by heart.
But Dilli wasn't just reckless. He remembered his past life lesson: Don't bet everything at once, grow it slowly, like planting rice seedlings. Still, the thrill of seeing six digits glowing on the screen made him grin like a greedy little demon in half-pants.
Back in the Hall…
Meanwhile, his father, sitting in the hall, was telling his mother:
"Our boy is different. Yesterday he made politicians cry and today villagers are touching his feet, if he asks for a scooter tomorrow, I won't even argue."
His mother snorted, "Scooter? With the way this boy is going, he'll ask for an airplane!"
Inside his room, Dilli smirked at the computer screen and whispered, "Not airplane, Amma. I'll buy the whole village and build a fighterjet production unit in our village."