Part I: The IIT Delhi Celebration
Two days after the emotional NSD event, Anant traveled to IIT Delhi for what the administration had billed as the "IIT Delhi Distinguished Alumni Awards Ceremony." The event was scheduled in the Dogra Auditorium, which could accommodate 1,200 people, but demand had been so overwhelming that the ceremony was being simultaneously broadcast to overflow rooms and live-streamed globally.
As Anant's car approached the campus gates, he could see the crowd. Students lined the roads, security struggling to maintain order. Banners and posters were everywhere:
"Anant Sharma - AIR 8, CGPA 10.0, Box Office King"
"From IIT Labs to Film Sets - Our Pride"
"Who Says Engineers Can't Do Arts? Anant Proved Everyone Wrong!"
"CSE Gold Medalist, National Award Winner, Legend"
The car stopped at the auditorium's rear entrance to avoid the crowds, but students had anticipated this. Within moments of Anant emerging, he was surrounded by excited faces.
"Anant sir! One photo please!"
"Bhaiya, you inspired me to audition for Ankahi!"
"Sir, because of you, people stopped calling us boring nerds!"
Anant smiled, genuinely pleased by the enthusiasm. He took several selfies, shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, before security gently escorted him inside.
In the green room, the current Ankahi drama society members were waiting – a gesture arranged by the IIT administration to acknowledge Anant's theatrical roots on campus.
Aisha, who'd graduated couple of years earlier but returned for this occasion, embraced Anant warmly. "Look at you! From the nervous first-year who stumbled through his first monologue to National Award-winning actor!"
"I didn't stumble that badly," Anant protested with a laugh.
"You absolutely did," Aisha corrected fondly. "You were technically perfect but emotionally closed off. Took me three months to get you to actually feel the lines instead of just reciting them."
"You succeeded," Anant acknowledged seriously. "Everything I learned about emotional accessibility in performance came from you and Ankahi. NSD values are important, but Ankahi is where I first learned to open up artistically."
The current Ankahi president, a third-year student named Priya, spoke up nervously: "Sir, the society has exploded since your success. We used to struggle to get 30-40 people auditioning. Last semester, we had 300 auditions for 20 spots. Everyone wants to join because you proved that IIT students can succeed in arts."
"That's wonderful," Anant replied warmly. "But remember – Ankahi isn't pathway to film careers for most members. It's creative outlet, artistic development, personal growth. Whether you pursue arts professionally or not, the skills you develop here – confidence, expression, empathy, collaboration – those serve you everywhere."
"But you did pursue it professionally," another Ankahi member observed.
"I did," Anant agreed. "But that was specific combination of opportunity, preparation, and luck. Most of you will have equally successful careers in engineering, technology, business, whatever you choose. Ankahi enhances those careers by making you more complete human beings."
The conversation was interrupted by a knock – time for the ceremony to begin.
Part II: The Recognition
The Dogra Auditorium was packed beyond capacity. Students filled every seat, sat in aisles, stood along walls. Faculty members occupied reserved sections. Media personnel crowded the press area. The atmosphere was electric.
When Anant walked onto the stage, the roar was deafening. Students stood, cheered, applauded with an enthusiasm that went on for nearly three minutes. The emotion was palpable – this was their alumnus, their proof that IIT Delhi produced more than just engineers and entrepreneurs.
The IIT Delhi Director, a distinguished professor of electrical engineering, opened the ceremony:
"IIT Delhi has produced numerous distinguished alumni – CEOs of major companies, founders of unicorn startups, scientists making groundbreaking discoveries, policymakers shaping national development. Today, we celebrate an alumnus who chose different path – artistic excellence – and achieved success unprecedented in Indian entertainment history."
He outlined Anant's academic achievements first: "AIR 8 in JEE Advanced. Perfect 10.0 CGPA in Computer Science and Engineering. Gold medalist. These achievements alone would make him exemplary alumnus."
"But Anant's distinction goes further. While maintaining academic excellence, he was active member of Ankahi drama society. He represented IIT Delhi in All India Inter-IIT sports meet, winning three consecutive cricket championships. He developed proprietary algorithms for color grading and compression that have revolutionized film technology. And simultaneously, he pursued acting career that has redefined Indian cinema."
"Three films. Combined worldwide collection exceeding 3,700 crores. Multiple National Awards and Filmfare Awards. International recognition from Hollywood legends. And perhaps most significantly, he's shifted public perception of IIT graduates from 'nerdy technocrats' to 'multidimensional achievers.'"
The students erupted in cheers at this last point – the "nerd" stereotype had always been sensitive issue.
The Director continued: "Applications to IIT Delhi have increased by 18% since Anant's success. Specifically, we've seen surge in applications from students with strong arts backgrounds who previously assumed IIT wasn't appropriate destination for creative people. That's cultural impact beyond entertainment."
"Additionally, Ankahi drama society now receives more funding, better facilities, and institutional respect equal to technical clubs. That's because Anant demonstrated that artistic development isn't frivolous extracurricular – it's essential component of complete education."
He paused, looking directly at Anant. "For exemplary academic achievement, groundbreaking technological innovation, unprecedented artistic success, and transformative impact on institutional culture, IIT Delhi is honored to present the Distinguished Alumni Award to Anant Sharma, Class of 2015, Computer Science and Engineering."
The applause was thunderous as Anant accepted the award – a beautiful bronze sculpture of Saraswati, goddess of knowledge and arts, symbolizing the integration of technical and creative excellence.
Anant's acceptance speech had been carefully prepared but was delivered with genuine emotion:
"Thank you, IIT Delhi, for this incredible honor. Standing here, looking out at this auditorium, I'm transported back to five years ago when I sat in these seats as nervous first-year student, wondering if I belonged here."
"I came to IIT because I'd worked hard for JEE, achieved good rank, and everyone told me IIT was the 'right' choice for intelligent students. But I was also deeply interested in arts, in storytelling, in performance. I worried that IIT would suppress that side of me, force me into purely technical path."
"Instead, I found Ankahi. I found Aisha ma'am and others who taught me that engineering and arts aren't contradictory – they're complementary. The systematic thinking I learned in CSE classes informed my approach to character development. The algorithm optimization skills helped me develop VFX technology. The teamwork required for group projects prepared me for film production collaboration."
"IIT Delhi didn't just tolerate my artistic interests – it enhanced them by providing analytical framework for approaching creative work. That integration is what enabled everything I've achieved."
He paused, looking at the sea of young faces watching him intently.
"To current students: Don't let anyone tell you that IIT graduates are one-dimensional. Don't accept the stereotype that engineering and creativity are mutually exclusive. You're sitting in one of India's finest institutions precisely because you're capable of excelling at complex challenges. That capability applies to any field you choose to pursue – technology, arts, business, public service, whatever calls to you."
"Some of you will become engineers. Some will become entrepreneurs. Some might pursue arts professionally. Most will do combinations. All of those paths are valid and valuable."
"What matters is that you develop all dimensions of your capabilities. Take that extra drama elective. Join the music society. Play sports seriously. Write poetry. Build apps. Start companies. Do all of it simultaneously if you can manage it. Because the world needs people who can think technically AND creatively, who can analyze AND empathize, who can engineer solutions AND tell compelling stories about why those solutions matter."
"IIT Delhi gave me permission to be complete person rather than specialized technician. That's the real gift of this education. Use it fully."
The applause was sustained and energetic. But the most telling response came from the number of students who approached him afterward saying variations of:
"I've been hiding my interest in music because I thought it wasn't 'serious' enough for IIT. Your speech gave me permission to pursue it openly."
"I want to join Ankahi but was worried it would hurt my CGPA. Now I understand that the development is worth it."
"Thank you for proving that IIT students can succeed in non-traditional careers. My parents have been pressuring me to prepare for core placements, but I want to try startup in creative space. Your example gives me courage to try."
Part III: The Gift of Security
A week later, Anant was summoned to a meeting at Ronnie Screwvala's Mumbai office. The message had been cryptic: "Important discussion regarding your living situation. Come immediately."
Anant arrived concerned, wondering if there was some problem with his current arrangements. He found Ronnie and Vijay Oberoi waiting, both wearing expressions that seemed to mix seriousness with suppressed amusement.
"Sit," Ronnie instructed, gesturing to a chair. "We need to discuss your residential security situation."
"Is there a problem?" Anant asked, immediately alert.
"Yes," Vijay replied seriously. "The problem is that you're living in conditions inappropriate for someone of your profile, wealth, and importance."
"I live in my family home in Chandni Chowk," Anant replied, confused. "It's more than enoug—"
"It's a security nightmare," Ronnie interrupted. "Anant, you're worth over 1,500 crores. You've disrupted piracy networks that were generating billions in illegal revenue. You're one of India's most recognizable faces. And you're living in middle-class neighborhood with minimal security."
"We've been receiving intelligence," Vijay added, his tone becoming genuinely serious. "The anti-piracy technology has made you enemies. Piracy syndicates operate globally with substantial resources. There have been... inquiries about your location, your routine, your family."
Anant felt cold fear grip his stomach. "My family is in danger?"
"Not currently," Ronnie assured quickly. "But the potential exists. Which is why we've taken steps."
He pulled out a folder of documents and photographs. "We've purchased a property for you. Six-bedroom villa in Bandra, sea-facing, private beach access, comprehensive security system, dedicated security staff. The property is in a secured compound with only five other villas, all owned by high-profile individuals with serious security consciousness."
Anant looked at the photographs showing a stunning modern villa, large and luxurious but tastefully designed. "Ronnie sir, I can't accept this. This must have cost—"
"Seventy-five crores," Vijay stated bluntly. "Which is less than 5% of what you've helped us earn through Baahubali and your technology innovations. Consider it partial repayment."
"I can't—" Anant began.
Ronnie's face transformed into the expression Anant had learned to recognize – the "don't argue with me" look that had shut down protests before.
Anant's mouth snapped closed mid-sentence. Both Ronnie and Vijay burst into laughter.
"That never gets old," Vijay chuckled. "You're this intimidating presence on screen, but Ronnie makes one face and you obey like disciplined child."
"Because I've learned that arguing with Ronnie sir when he's made decision is futile," Anant replied with slight smile despite his discomfort. "But sir, I genuinely can't accept property this expensive as gift—"
"You can and you will," Ronnie interrupted firmly. "But let me explain the thinking beyond generosity. This isn't just gift – it's necessity and investment."
He pulled out additional documents. "First, necessity: your family's safety requires better security than Chandni Chowk can provide. The villa has 24/7 armed security, advanced surveillance systems, secure perimeter, panic rooms. Your parents, your sister – they'll be protected."
"Second, investment: you entertaining here will facilitate business. The villa is designed for hosting – screening room, conference facilities, guest accommodations. You can hold production meetings, script readings, even small screenings. That's valuable for your work."
"Third, practical consideration: You've been commuting between Delhi and Mumbai constantly. Exhausting and inefficient. Relocate your family to Mumbai, base yourself here, maintain Delhi connection but don't live in constant transit."
Vijay took over: "Anant, the anti-piracy situation is serious. We've consulted with security experts. Their unanimous recommendation is that you need to relocate to secured environment. This villa provides that while also being beautiful home your family will enjoy."
"Your parents..." Anant began hesitantly. "They're attached to Chandni Chowk. The restaurant, the community, their life is there."
"We've anticipated that," Ronnie replied, pulling out more documents. "We're not suggesting you abandon the Chandni Chowk property. Keep it, maintain it, visit regularly. But your primary residence needs to be secured location. Your father can manage the restaurant through trusted staff, visit weekly if he wants. But daily living should be in safe environment."
"Your sister Anjali's education is another consideration," Vijay added. "She's thirteen now, entering critical academic years. Mumbai has excellent international schools with better facilities than Delhi's conventional schools. Ronnie has already arranged admission to Dhirubhai Ambani International School – one of India's finest. She'll receive world-class education while being in secured environment."
He paused, his tone becoming even more serious. "Anant, I'm going to be blunt. You've made powerful enemies by disrupting piracy. These are criminal organizations with resources and willingness to use violence. I won't detail the specific threats we've received, but they're credible enough that we're taking them very seriously."
"Your family doesn't understand this danger because you've shielded them from it. That's admirable but counterproductive. They need to understand that relocation is for their safety, not your convenience."
Anant sat silently, processing the information. He'd known abstractly that the anti-piracy technology would upset criminal networks, but he'd minimized the personal danger. Hearing it laid out explicitly – threats against his family – made the situation undeniable.
"When do you need me to relocate?" he asked finally.
"Immediately," Ronnie replied. "The villa is ready. Fully furnished, staff hired, security in place. You can move in this weekend. We'll handle all logistics – packing, transportation, setup. You just need to convince your family it's necessary move."
"They'll resist," Anant warned. "Especially Papa. The restaurant is his identity."
"Then explain the security situation honestly," Vijay suggested. "Your father is intelligent man. When he understands his family is at risk, he'll prioritize safety over sentiment."
Part IV: The Family Decision
That evening, Anant sat with his parents and Anjali in the small living room above the Chandni Chowk restaurant. He'd asked them to clear the evening for serious family discussion.
"I need to tell you something I've been keeping from you," Anant began. "The anti-piracy technology I developed – it's disrupted major criminal operations. Piracy syndicates were earning billions in illegal revenue. That revenue is now being cut off."
Rajesh immediately understood the implications. "They're threatening you."
"Not directly. But there have been... concerning inquiries about our family. Our location, our routine. Ronnie and Vijay have been monitoring the situation with security consultants. Their unanimous recommendation is that we relocate to more secure environment."
"How secure?" Meera asked, her worry evident.
"Gated compound. 24/7 armed security. Surveillance systems. Panic rooms. Everything necessary to ensure safety."
"This is in Mumbai?" Rajesh guessed.
"Yes. Bandra. Sea-facing villa that Ronnie and Vijay have... gifted to us."
"We can't accept property from them," Rajesh protested immediately.
"That's what I said," Anant replied with slight smile. "Ronnie sir made the face. I shut up. Papa, it's already done. The villa is purchased, fully furnished, ready for occupancy. They won't take no for an answer."
"What about the restaurant?" Rajesh asked, his attachment to the business evident.
"We keep it. Manage it through trusted staff. Visit regularly. But our primary residence moves to Mumbai for security reasons and practical considerations."
"My school," Anjali interjected. "My friends are in Delhi."
"You'll be admitted to Dhirubhai Ambani International School in Mumbai," Anant explained gently. "It's one of India's finest schools. Better facilities, better curriculum, better opportunities than Delhi schools. And Anjali, making new friends is part of growing up. You'll stay in touch with Delhi friends through social media and visits."
Meera spoke quietly: "You're telling us this has already been decided."
"I'm telling you it's necessary for your safety," Anant corrected. "If it were just about convenience or luxury, I'd never force this move. But the threats are real, Amma. People who've lost billions in revenue don't forgive easily. I need my family protected. I can't do my work if I'm constantly worried about you being vulnerable."
Rajesh studied his son's face, seeing the genuine fear and concern beneath the calm explanation. "How credible are these threats?"
"Credible enough that Ronnie and Vijay involved professional security consultants. Credible enough that they spent 75 crores on secured property without asking my permission. Credible enough that I'm not sleeping well worrying about you."
The room fell silent. Finally, Rajesh spoke:
"We'll visit this villa. See the space, understand the security arrangements. If it's truly necessary for family safety, we'll consider the move."
"Thank you," Anant said with relief.
"But the restaurant stays operational," Rajesh insisted. "I'll hire manager and staff, visit twice weekly to oversee. I'm not abandoning the business I've built."
"Of course not," Anant agreed. "The restaurant is our heritage. We maintain it."
Part V: The Villa
The following Saturday, the entire Sharma family traveled to Mumbai to see the villa. The car pulled up to a security gate where guards checked identification before allowing entry to a private road serving only five properties.
When they saw the villa, Meera gasped. The modern architecture was stunning – clean lines, floor-to-ceiling windows, terraces overlooking the Arabian Sea. The property was surrounded by landscaped gardens providing both beauty and security buffer.
"This is... this is too much," Rajesh whispered.
"This is necessary," Ronnie replied, having joined them for the viewing. "Come, let me show you the features."
The tour revealed six bedrooms, each with en-suite bathrooms and balcony access. A state-of-the-art kitchen that made Rajesh's eyes light up despite himself. Living spaces that were large but not ostentatious. A home theater with professional screening capabilities. A gym and yoga room. A library and study space. And most impressively, a rooftop terrace with unobstructed sea views.
"The security system," Vijay explained, showing them the control room, "monitors all access points. The perimeter has sensors. Guards patrol 24/7. The panic rooms are built to withstand forced entry for hours. Communication systems allow direct connection to police and private security response teams."
"Your family will be as safe here as anywhere in India," he concluded.
Anjali, who'd been quiet throughout the tour, finally spoke: "Can I choose which room is mine?"
The simple question broke the tension. Rajesh and Meera laughed despite their emotional overwhelm.
"Of course," Anant replied, smiling. "Any room except the master, which is for Maa and Papa."
"I want the one facing the sea!" Anjali declared, running toward the eastern wing.
After she left, Meera turned to Ronnie and Vijay. "This is too generous. We can't accept—"
"You can and you will," Ronnie interrupted gently. "Meera ji, your son has changed our lives. The profits from Baahubali, the technology innovations, the industry impact – we've earned hundreds of crores because of Anant. This villa is small gesture of gratitude. But more importantly, it's necessary for his peace of mind. He can't focus on work if he's worried about family safety."
"Anant has given us everything without asking anything in return," Vijay added. "He rejected payment for Uri. He gave us technology innovations as gifts. He invested in Baahubali through Maya VFX, risking his own capital. Allowing us to ensure his family's security and comfort is the least he can do to make us feel less indebted."
Rajesh looked around the villa, then at his wife, then at Anant. "You're certain the security situation justifies this move?"
"Certain," Anant confirmed. "Papa, I wouldn't force this on you for anything less than genuine safety concerns."
"Then we'll move," Rajesh decided. "We'll maintain the Chandni Chowk restaurant as weekend operation, but our home will be here."
The relief on Anant's face was evident. "Thank you. Both of you. I know this is difficult."
"Difficult but necessary," Meera said practically. "And honestly, this kitchen is extraordinary. I could do wonderful things with these facilities."
Rajesh laughed. "Always practical. Our son becomes superstar, gets gifted 75-crore villa, and you're excited about the kitchen."
"The kitchen is what I'll use daily," Meera replied with smile. "The rest is beautiful but secondary."
The family relocated within two weeks. The transition was managed efficiently by professional services that Ronnie and Vijay had arranged. Within a month, the villa felt like home – filled with the Sharma family's belongings, their energy, their life.
Anjali adapted quickly, making friends at her new school and enjoying the beach access. Rajesh, though still attached to the Chandni Chowk restaurant, admitted that the Mumbai lifestyle had unexpected benefits. Meera transformed the kitchen into her domain and began experimenting with recipes using the professional-grade equipment.
And Anant, for the first time in years, felt his family was truly secure.
Part VI: The Hyderabad Celebration
As July approached and Baahubali Part Two's release loomed, SS Rajamouli organized a success celebration in Hyderabad for Part One's unprecedented achievement. The event was scheduled at a luxury hotel's grand ballroom, designed to bring together everyone who'd contributed to the film's success.
The invitation list was extraordinary – spanning all of South Indian cinema and beyond:
From Telugu cinema: Chiranjeevi, Prabhas, Rana Daggubati, Ram Charan, Jr. NTR, Mahesh Babu, Allu Arjun.
From Tamil cinema: Rajinikanth, Kamal Haasan, Vijay, Ajith, Suriya, Dhanush
From Malayalam cinema: Mohanlal, Mammootty, Fahadh Faasil, Prithviraj Sukumaran
From Kannada cinema: Puneeth Rajkumar, Sudeep, Yash
And of course, the Baahubali family – the cast and crew who'd spent three years creating the epic.
When Anant arrived at the celebration, the reception was overwhelming. Industry legends – people who'd been stars when he was a child – approached him with genuine respect and congratulations.
Rajinikanth was first, embracing Anant warmly. "Young man, you've made all of us proud. This film shows what Indian cinema can achieve. Your dedication reminds me of my early days when work was everything."
"Sir, you're the inspiration," Anant replied in fluent Tamil. "I've studied your performances for years. The effortless charisma, the precise timing, the way you make difficult look easy – that's artistry at highest level."
Rajinikanth laughed, delighted by the Tamil fluency. "You learned our language! That's respect. Too many North actors come South expecting us to adjust. You adjusted to us."
"It's your culture, your cinema, your language," Anant replied. "I'm the guest. Adjustment is my responsibility."
The conversation was interrupted by Kamal Haasan joining them. "Anant, I watched Baahubali three times. Each viewing revealed new layers in your performance. The way you differentiated Baahubali and Shivudu despite playing both – different bearing, different voice modulation, different energy. That's sophisticated character work."
"Thank you, sir," Anant replied, switching smoothly to Tamil. "Your own dual roles in films like Apoorva Sagodharargal( Appu Raja) set the standard for playing multiple characters distinctly. I studied those performances while preparing."
"The Nataraja dance sequence," Kamal continued seriously, "that's one of finest integrations of classical art and cinema I've witnessed. The technique was perfect, yes, but the devotion was palpable. How did you achieve that spiritual authenticity?"
"Through understanding that performance and prayer aren't contradictory," Anant explained. "Mohit Raina sir helped me understand that. When you approach dance as offering rather than performance, the spiritual dimension emerges naturally."
Their conversation drew a crowd. Other stars gathered to listen to three generations of acting excellence discussing craft.
Prabhas and Rana Daggubati approached together – the two actors who'd been originally considered for Baahubali roles before Rajamouli chose different direction.
"No hard feelings?" Anant asked them directly, aware that some might have resented his casting. Which make Both Prabhas and Rana laugh but also surprise that despite being a one of the biggest star, he is still humble, honest and genuine.
"How could there be hard feelings?" Prabhas replied generously in Telugu. "You've created something that elevated all of Telugu cinema. Every Telugu actor benefits from Baahubali's success. You've shown the world that our regional cinema can compete globally."
"Plus," Rana added with a grin, "we got to be part of the journey as observers. Watching you work was masterclass in dedication. The training regimen alone was intimidating."
Chiranjeevi, the megastar of Telugu cinema, joined them with emotional intensity: "Anant, you're not just successful actor. You're bridge between North and South cinema. You've shown that language barriers are artificial, that talent transcends region. That's cultural service beyond entertainment."
Ram Charan, standing beside his father Chiranjeevi, added: "The younger generation of Telugu actors – we're all raising our standards because of you. You've shown what's possible with total dedication. We can't make excuses about preparation or training anymore."
Jr. NTR, known for his own intense performances, was more analytical: "I studied your physical transformation for Baahubali. The muscle development, the movement quality, the martial arts integration – that's years of systematic work. How did you maintain that intensity for entire production?"
"Discipline and routine," Anant replied. "I trained same time every day, ate same structured diet, maintained same sleep schedule. Removed variables, made preparation automatic rather than effortful."
"That's championship athlete mindset," Jr. NTR observed. "You approached acting like sport – systematic, disciplined, measurable progress. That's unusual in our industry."
Mohanlal, the Malayalam cinema legend, had been watching these interactions with interest. When he approached Anant, the young actor immediately folded his hands in deep respect.
"Mohanlal sir, your career has been masterclass in versatility. The range – comedy, tragedy, action, subtle drama – all executed with equal brilliance. I'm honored to meet you."
"The honor is mutual," Mohanlal replied in Malayalam. "You've spoken to each person here in their language. That's not just linguistic skill – that's cultural respect. Too rare in our industry."
"Language is vessel for culture," Anant explained, also in Malayalam. "I couldn't portray Indian mythology authentically without understanding multiple Indian cultural traditions. Learning languages was necessary immersion."
Fahadh Faasil, standing nearby, interjected: "Parvathy told me you were remarkably supportive during production. Encouraged her, elevated her performance through your own excellence. That generosity toward co-stars is refreshing."
"Strong co-stars make everyone better," Anant replied simply. "I wanted the best possible cast because that improves the film. Helping Parvathy excel helped me excel."
Part VII: The Moment of Joy
As the evening progressed and the formal elements concluded, the atmosphere became more relaxed. Music played. People danced. Food was served. The celebration became genuine party rather than formal industry event.
At one point, Anant found himself in circle with Rajinikanth, Sudheer, Ram Charan, and Jr. NTR. Someone had made a joking request: "Anant, do Rajini Thalaiva sir's style!"
Anant hesitated, not wanting to seem disrespectful, but Rajinikanth himself encouraged it with mischievous smile and while tossing the coin towards him : "Go ahead! Let's see if you've been paying attention!"
Anant stood, affecting Rajinikanth's characteristic swagger. He flipped a coin which, caught it with the back of his hand, then tossed it upward and caught it mid-air – perfect reproduction of one of Rajini's signature moves.
Then he delivered a line in Tamil with Rajini's distinctive intonation and head wobble: "Naan oru thadava sonna, nooru thadava sonna maathiri!" (If I say something once, it's like I've said it a hundred times!)
The circle erupted in laughter and applause. Rajinikanth himself was laughing hardest, clearly delighted by the affectionate mimicry.
"Perfect!" he declared. "The coin flip, the timing, even the voice modulation. You've studied well!"
"I grew up watching your films, sir," Anant replied, returning to normal voice. "The style isn't just movement – it's attitude, timing, complete package. You make it look effortless, which is hardest thing to achieve."
The moment was captured by dozens of phones and would later become viral content – Anant's respectful mimicry of Rajinikanth's style, the legend's delighted response, the genuine camaraderie between generations of stars.
But throughout the evening, Anant was also aware of different kind of attention – from many of the actresses and female stars present. Glances held slightly too long. Smiles that suggested interest beyond professional courtesy. Conversations that seemed to be looking for personal connection rather than just industry networking.
Nayanthara, one of Telugu and Tamil cinema's biggest stars, approached him during a quiet moment: "I've been wanting to talk to you all evening. Your performances – they're remarkable. I'd love to work with you sometime."
"I'd be honored," Anant replied professionally. "You're excellent actress. Collaboration would be wonderful."
"Maybe we could discuss it over dinner sometime?" Nayanthara suggested, her intent fairly clear.
"That's something we'd discuss through our respective managements if there's serious project," Anant replied gently. "But I appreciate the interest in collaborating."
The deflection was polite but firm. Nayanthara smiled, acknowledged the boundary, and moved on graciously.
Similar interactions happened throughout the evening – interest expressed, boundaries maintained, respect preserved on both sides.
Parvathy, observing some of these exchanges, approached Anant with amusement: "You're breaking hearts left and right. Half the women here are trying to get your attention."
"I'm here to celebrate the film, not to socialize romantically," Anant replied quietly. "The attention is flattering but not my focus."
"You're remarkably disciplined about this," Parvathy observed. "Most actors in your position would be enjoying the attention enthusiastically."
"Most actors don't have the same priorities," Anant replied. "I'm focused on work, on family, on continuous improvement. Romance can wait until I have time and energy to invest properly."
"That's very mature for twenty-five," Parvathy noted and also make her somewhat relief.
"Or very single-minded to the point of imbalance," Anant corrected with self-deprecating smile. "I'm not sure which yet."
Part VIII: The Unity Realized
As the evening concluded, Rajamouli called everyone together for informal toast. Over 200 people – the biggest names in South Indian cinema plus the Baahubali team – gathered in the main hall.
"I want to thank everyone for celebrating with us tonight," Rajamouli began. "Baahubali's success belongs to all of us collectively – not just those who worked on the film directly, but everyone who's contributed to South Indian cinema's development over decades. You created the foundation that allowed this project to succeed."
He paused, looking around the room. "But I especially want to acknowledge Anant. Not just for his performance, which was extraordinary. But for what he represents. He's Hindi cinema's biggest young star. He could have stayed comfortable in Bollywood, making safe commercial films, collecting massive fees. Instead, he came South, learned our languages, respected our cultures, invested his own resources in our vision, and delivered performance that honored our storytelling traditions."
"In doing so, he's proven that Indian cinema isn't fragmented – it's unified. That talent transcends language and region. That when we collaborate authentically, we create something greater than any region could achieve alone."
Applause filled the room.
"Part Two releases in twelve days," Rajamouli continued. "The anticipation is unprecedented. The pressure is enormous. But looking around this room – seeing the support, the unity, the collective celebration of our achievement – I'm confident we'll deliver something worthy of that anticipation."
He raised his glass. "To Indian cinema. To collaboration over competition. To stories that matter. To Baahubali and everything it represents!"
"To Baahubali!" the room chorused.
As the toast concluded and people began departing, Anant found himself with the Baahubali core team – Rajamouli, Sudheer, Parvathy, Tamannaah, Sathyaraj, Ramya Krishnan, and key crew members.
"Twelve days," Sudheer said quietly. "Then the world sees if we stuck the landing."
"We stuck the landing," Rajamouli assured confidently. "Part Two delivers everything Part One promised. The romance, the action, the resolution – it all works."
"I still haven't watched the final cut," Anant admitted. "I've refused to screen it."
"Why?" Tamannaah asked, surprised.
"Because I want to experience it with the audience," Anant explained. "I want to see their reactions, feel their emotions, understand if we've succeeded through their response. Watching it privately in screening room wouldn't give me that information and there is a surprise in credit scene." Which surprised many but Rajamouli told them that Anant have a surprise for all of them.
"That's either very wise or very masochistic," Parvathy observed while smirking.
"Probably both," Anant agreed with a smile.
"Whatever it is," Rajamouli concluded, "we'll know soon. Twelve days until the biggest release in Indian cinema history. Everything we've worked for, everything we've sacrificed, everything we've built – it all culminates in twelve days."
"Then let's make sure we're ready," Anant replied.
As the celebration ended and people departed into the Hyderabad night, one fact had become undeniable:
Indian cinema had reached inflection point. The success of Baahubali Part One, the anticipation for Part Two, the unity displayed at this celebration – all of it signaled that Indian film industry was entering new era.
An era where regional boundaries mattered less than story quality.
An era where authentic cultural representation could compete commercially with Hollywood spectacle.
An era where an IIT engineer from Chandni Chowk could become the bridge uniting all of Indian cinema.
An era where the impossible had become inevitable.
Twelve days remained.
The world watched.
And history waited to be completed.
Chapter End