November 1993. Ooty.
The Nilgiri hills were draped in a mist so thick it felt like walking through cold soup. The pine trees stood as silent sentinels, their needles dripping with dew.
This was the Ooty of the 90s—the unofficial backyard of Bollywood.
Aarav stood by the edge of the lake, shivering. He was wearing a thin, colorful knitted sweater (yellow and black, the fashion dictated by the costume designer) and baggy jeans.
"Cut! Light is gone!" The cinematographer yelled, looking at the sky with disgust.
Lawrence D'Souza threw his cap on the ground. "We are losing the golden hour! Reflector boy! Wake up!"
Aarav exhaled, his breath pluming in the frigid air. He rubbed his arms. Filming a movie was 10% acting and 90% waiting for the sun.
He walked over to the plastic chair marked 'Deepak' (his character name). A spot boy immediately ran over with a glass of hot tea.
"Sir, tea."
Aarav smiled. "Thank you, Chotu."
Two chairs away sat Karisma Kapoor. She was wrapped in a thick shawl, looking every bit the Kapoor royalty she was. She was barely nineteen, but she had the steely professionalism of a veteran. She was reading a film magazine, ignoring the chaos of the unit.
"You did good in the close-up," she said, not looking up from the magazine.
Aarav paused, tea cup halfway to his lips. It was rare for her to compliment him. The divide between 'Film Family' and 'TV Outsider' was invisible but palpable.
"Thanks," Aarav said. "The mist helped. Hid the shivering."
She looked at him then, her blue eyes sharp. "It wasn't the mist. You hold the gaze. Most newcomers blink too much when the camera comes close. They are scared the lens will bite them. You look at it like you own it."
"I practiced on a smaller lens for two years," Aarav replied.
She smirked. "TV is small. This... this is 70mm. Don't get comfortable. Jackie dada arrives tomorrow. Then you'll see what a real star looks like."
The Arrival of the Tiger.
The next morning, the energy on the set shifted. It wasn't tense; it was relaxed, but in a heavy, deferential way.
A black Ambassador rolled up to the location—a tea estate bungalow.
The door opened, and a boot hit the gravel. Then came the man.
Jackie Shroff.
He wore a bandana, sunglasses, and a loose shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. He didn't walk; he sauntered. He was the epitome of cool. The 'Bidu' of Bollywood.
The entire unit seemed to gravitate toward him. Lawrence D'Souza hugged him. The spot boys ran faster.
Aarav stood in the background, watching. This was 'Star Power'. It wasn't about acting skills (though Jackie had them); it was about aura. Jackie filled the space without trying.
"Hey, new kid!"
Jackie had spotted him. He beckoned Aarav over with a wave of his hand.
Aarav walked up. "Hello, Sir. I'm Aarav."
Jackie pulled down his sunglasses. His eyes were kind, lazy, and amused. He looked Aarav up and down.
"I saw your rushes," Jackie drawled, his voice deep and grainy. "You have intensity, bhidu. Good eyes. But you stand too stiff. Loosen up. The camera catches the tension in the shoulders."
He slapped Aarav on the back—a heavy, friendly blow.
"We have a scene today. The confrontation. Don't respect me in the scene. Hate me. If you respect me when the camera rolls, the scene dies."
The Confrontation Scene.
The setup was simple. Deepak (Aarav) confronts the older, wealthier man (Jackie) who is trying to take the girl away.
Lawrence shouted, "Action!"
Aarav stood across from Jackie.
System Active.[Acting Skill: Level 65][Target: Match Screen Presence][Difficulty: High (Opponent has 'Star Aura' Passive)]
Jackie didn't do much. He just stood there, lighting a cigarette with agonizing slowness, looking at Aarav with dismissive arrogance. It was a masterclass in minimalism.
Aarav felt the pressure. If he shouted, he would look childish. If he stayed quiet, he would disappear.
He chose the middle path.
Aarav stepped forward, invading Jackie's personal space. He didn't look at Jackie's face; he looked at the cigarette in his hand.
"You think you can buy everything," Aarav delivered the line, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating with suppressed rage.
He looked up, locking eyes with Jackie.
"But you can't buy a memory."
Aarav held the stare. He didn't blink. He let a single muscle under his right eye twitch—a micro-expression of vulnerability masking as anger.
For a split second, Jackie's eyes widened. He hadn't expected the TV boy to push back with silence.
Jackie took a drag, exhaled smoke into Aarav's face, and smiled. A sad, knowing smile.
"Kid," Jackie said (in character), "Memories are for those who have no future."
"Cut!" Lawrence yelled. "Beautiful! Fantastic!"
The unit clapped.
Jackie broke character immediately. He grinned and wrapped an arm around Aarav's neck.
"Arre wah! The boy has fire! Good job, hero."
Aarav exhaled. His knees were shaking slightly, but he had held his ground.
[Skill Progress: Acting 65 → 66][Relationship Unlocked: Jackie Shroff (Mentor/Friend)]
January 1994. Post-Production & The Music Launch.
The filming wrapped up in December. Now came the machine.
The music of Sapne Saajan Ke was released on T-Series cassettes. Nadeem-Shravan had composed the tracks.
"Yeh Dua Hai Meri Rab Se" hit the airwaves.
It was an instant chartbuster. You couldn't walk past a paan shop, a taxi stand, or a wedding without hearing it.
But nobody knew who the boy in the video was yet. The posters featured Jackie and Karisma prominently. Aarav was a small face in the corner.
"It's better this way," Aarav told himself, sitting in his Lokhandwala apartment. "Let the song enter their hearts. Then the face will follow."
He was nervous. His bank balance was down to ₹35 Lakhs. He hadn't signed a second film yet. He was waiting for the release.
March 14, 1994. Release Day.
The Friday Verdict.
In the 90s, there were no online bookings. Success was measured by the length of the queue outside Gaiety Galaxy in Bandra.
Aarav woke up at 6 AM. He couldn't sleep.
He drove his Fiat to Bandra. He parked a block away from Gaiety. He wore a cap and sunglasses.
He walked toward the theater.
There was a crowd. Not a stampede, but a healthy crowd. The 'Housefull' board was being put up for the 12 PM show.
He stood near the ticket counter, eavesdropping.
"Who is the hero?" one college boy asked his friend. "Jackie is there. And that Gharaunda guy. The TV actor." "Oh, Vijay? He's in this? Chalo, let's see."
Aarav's heart soared. They remembered Gharaunda. The TV stigma was a double-edged sword—the industry hated it, but the public knew him.
He bought a ticket in the 'Stall' section (cheapest seats) to gauge the real reaction.
The movie began.
When his entry scene happened—Deepak walking through the college campus—there were a few whistles. Mostly from women.
"Arre! Yeh to apna Aarav hai!" someone shouted.
But the real test was the song.
When Yeh Dua Hai Meri started, the theatre went quiet. The melody took over. On screen, Aarav was crying while smiling, singing at the engagement of the girl he loved.
The System had boosted his Dancing/Expression during the song. He looked graceful, heartbroken, and stunningly handsome. The lighting caught the tears in his eyes.
Aarav heard sniffling in the row behind him.
"Bechara..." (Poor guy), a woman whispered. "He loves her so much."
By the climax, when Aarav's character sacrificed his love, the audience was on his side. Jackie was the star, but Aarav was the heart.
The Aftermath. Box Office Report.
Film:Sapne Saajan Ke (1994) Verdict:Semi-Hit / Musical Blockbuster.
Collections:
Day 1: ₹45 Lakhs (Decent opening due to music).
Weekend: ₹1.5 Crores.
Lifetime: ₹6 Crores (A solid earner).
Critic Reviews:
Trade Guide:"The music saves the film. Jackie Shroff is dependable as always. Karisma is improving."
Filmfare:"The surprise package is the debutant (on big screen) Aarav Pathak. He sheds his TV image effortlessly. He stands frame-to-frame with Jackie Shroff and holds his own. He has the vulnerability of a young Rishi Kapoor and the intensity of a young Amitabh. Watch out for him."
[System Update][Fame Level Up!][Status: Bollywood Debutee (Recognized)][Title: 'The Chocolate Boy with Pain'][Fan Base: Expanded from Housewives to College Girls.]
April 1994. The Phone Call.
Aarav was sitting in his apartment, celebrating with a Thums Up.
The landline rang.
"Hello?"
"Is this Aarav Pathak?"
"Speaking."
"This is Ratan Jain's office. Venus Records and Tapes."
Aarav sat up straight. Venus. One of the biggest production houses of the 90s. They were the ones behind Baazigar (which had released in late 1993 and made SRK a superstar).
"Ratan ji wants to meet you. Today evening."
"I'll be there."
Aarav hung up.
He knew what was coming. With Baazigar, SRK had launched the era of the anti-hero. But the industry was hungry. They needed more. They needed romance.
He walked to his mirror.
He looked at the handsome face that had just survived its first battle.
"Chapter 1 is done," he whispered. "Now we go for the throne."
He had future knowledge. He knew what movies were being written right now. He knew that somewhere, Aditya Chopra was writing a script about a boy who travels to Europe. He knew Sooraj Barjatya was planning a wedding movie.
But first, Venus.
He drove to the Venus office in Juhu.
Ratan Jain was a shrewd man. He sat behind a glass desk.
"Aarav," Ratan said, getting straight to the point. "I saw your film. You have a good cry face. Women like it."
"Thank you, sir."
"We are planning a new film. A big one. Directed by glorious directors. Khiladi was a hit. Baazigar was a hit. We have a script called 'Main Khiladi Tu Anari'."
Aarav froze. That was a 1994 film. Akshay Kumar and Saif Ali Khan.
"Saif is busy," Ratan Jain said, waving a hand. "And frankly, his accent is too English for the masses. We need someone who can look soft but stand next to Akshay Kumar's action. Can you do comedy?"
Aarav's mind raced. Main Khiladi Tu Anari. The role of Deepak Kumar, the actor who wants to be a cop. It was the role that solidified Saif's career. It was a massive hit.
System Analysis.[Role: Deepak Kumar in 'Main Khiladi Tu Anari'][Pros: Massive Hit, great songs, pairs you with Akshay (Action King).][Cons: It's a 'Second Lead' role again. You risk being typecast as the 'soft brother' to the 'action hero'.]
Aarav looked at Ratan Jain.
If he took this, he would be famous. But he would be the "Anari" (The naive one). He wanted to be the King.
But he needed a bridge. He couldn't jump straight to DDLJ. He needed one massive commercial hit to prove he was bankable.
"I'll do it," Aarav said. "But I want a solo song. A dance number."
Ratan Jain laughed. "You have guts, boy. Done. You'll have 'Chura Ke Dil Mera' with Shilpa... no wait, that's Akshay's. We'll give you a solo track."
Aarav smiled. He knew the future. He knew Main Khiladi Tu Anari was the perfect stepping stone.
"Where do I sign?"
[End of Chapter 6]