Chapter 24: Suraj's Awakening and a Selfless Act
Suraj sat in his modest office at Mythic Productions, hunched over the latest box office report for Bloody Commando. The numbers had been a blend of optimism and frustration: the movie had earned 20 crore rupees in its first six days. For a limited release in only 500 theaters, the revenue was a promising start. Yet, it wasn't enough. He knew that Bloody Commando could perform far better if only it could reach more theaters.
In Akhand Bharat, the consolidated landmass and population created an immense potential for box office revenue, dwarfing what he remembered from his previous life. He could practically see the possibilities stretching before him, knowing that with the right exposure, his film could captivate audiences across the nation.
But as the reality of the market became clearer, Suraj found himself facing an unexpected roadblock: theaters weren't willing to expand screenings of his film. An influential, well-connected director named Rajesh Mehta was releasing his latest project that same week. Rajesh's movies were more an exercise in spectacle than substance, yet he had a loyal fanbase and the backing of Bharat's most powerful distribution networks. His new film, Veer Yodha, had already taken over prime screening slots.
Suraj sighed as he skimmed through the promotional details for Veer Yodha. The storyline was far from groundbreaking—a formulaic narrative about a warrior's journey filled with exaggerated battles, lavish song sequences, and melodrama. The film's plot was entirely predictable, another rehash of tales the audience had seen a hundred times before: a noble warrior from a feudal kingdom who saves his homeland from an invading force, winning the princess's hand and earning the king's eternal gratitude. Rajesh Mehta's films typically focused on spectacle and sentiment rather than genuine storytelling.
To make matters worse, Veer Yodha was receiving an overwhelming amount of publicity. Its first-day collection poster had already been plastered across StarGram, boasting an inflated figure of 10 crore rupees—a feat that, Suraj knew, was more marketing manipulation than genuine performance.
It became painfully evident to Suraj that in Bharat's film industry, connections and influence held more power than talent and hard work. Here, prestige was often secured by the director's influence rather than the quality of the film itself. If he wanted Bloody Commando to flourish, he needed to establish a stronger foothold and prove himself in a landscape dominated by established players.
Frustrated yet determined, Suraj considered his next steps. He needed an edge to attract attention and spread word-of-mouth about his movie. That night, as he returned home, his mind raced with possibilities, seeking some way to make his film stand out amid the competition.
As he settled down at home, Aryan joined him, flipping on the TV to catch the evening news. Both of them were drawn in by a heartbreaking story dominating every channel: an army officer who had recently returned to his home in Delhi had been killed in what was described as a tragic and unjust incident.
The details were grim. The officer, named Major Aniket Rathore, had returned home after an arduous mission, only to be caught in a violent altercation that escalated beyond his control. Witnesses claimed that his attempts to de-escalate the situation had been ignored, leading to his death at the hands of a group who bore a long-standing grudge against the armed forces. The incident sparked a national outcry, and Bharat was reeling. People took to the streets, demanding accountability for the senseless loss of a man who had devoted his life to the service of his nation.
For Suraj, this tragedy struck a deeply personal chord. In this world, the army was more than just an institution—it was the backbone of Bharat's sovereignty, the force that had kept the nation united and safe. The country held its armed forces in the highest regard, especially the Azad Hind Force, founded by Subhash Chandra Bose, which had played a central role in establishing Akhand Bharat. To this day, the Azad Hind Force remained a symbol of strength and resilience, revered by citizens and deeply honored by the government.
The news report showed crowds gathering outside government buildings and army offices, demanding action. Bharat's armed forces were not mere protectors; they were a crucial pillar of the nation, a bridge between the people and the sacrifices required to keep the country whole.
Aryan sat beside him, visibly saddened by the news. "Bhaiya," he murmured, "is there anything we can do to help?" His words were soft, but they carried a gravity that Suraj hadn't expected from his younger brother.
Suraj felt a pang in his chest. Aryan's question resonated deeply with him, bringing into focus the sense of helplessness that many felt. Aryan, for all his youthful innocence, understood the weight of such a loss. And for Suraj, hearing Aryan's desire to help made him feel both proud and deeply motivated. He realized that, as a filmmaker, he had the power to shine a light on such stories and honor those who sacrificed their lives for the nation.
That night, Suraj lay awake, mulling over Aryan's words. He could do more than just make movies—he could give back to the people whose stories inspired him. With a sudden surge of resolve, he decided on a course of action.
The next day, Suraj gathered his team at Mythic Productions and outlined his plan: they would donate five percent of Bloody Commando's box office earnings to support Major Rathore's family and contribute to a fund for the welfare of soldiers who had given their all for Bharat. This wasn't about publicity or box office success; it was about giving back, about acknowledging the profound debt owed to those who defended their country.
After finalizing the decision, Mythic Productions announced their commitment on their official StarGram account, which had a steadily growing follower count of 10 lakh. The post read:
"In honor of Major Aniket Rathore and all of Bharat's brave souls, Mythic Productions will contribute 5% of the proceeds from Bloody Commando towards supporting the families of fallen soldiers and advancing welfare programs for our armed forces."
The response was immediate and overwhelmingly positive. Comments poured in from across Bharat, lauding the gesture as a show of solidarity and respect for the army. Suraj's decision quickly became a trending topic, with media outlets picking up on the story and celebrating his commitment to honoring Bharat's heroes. For the people of Bharat, this was more than a donation; it was a statement of unity and gratitude.
As Suraj read through the comments and messages of support, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. Bloody Commando wasn't just a film—it had become a tribute to the courage, resilience, and sacrifices of the men and women who had devoted their lives to Bharat's security.
Aryan, too, noticed the impact his brother's decision had made. When he saw the outpouring of support on social media and in the news, he beamed with pride. "Bhaiya, you did something really big," he said, his voice full of admiration.
Suraj ruffled Aryan's hair and smiled. "We did something big, Aryan. This was our way of giving back." For the first time, Suraj truly felt like he was fulfilling his purpose in this world—not just as a filmmaker but as a man driven by a sense of responsibility to his country and his family.
As they sat together, watching the news coverage of the public's response, Suraj felt an indescribable connection to this world and the people in it. His reincarnation had brought him here for a reason, and he was determined to make every moment count.
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Author note: in the universe of bloody blood ties I wanted to add law from one piece template as charector in future story please share your opinion regarding this setting
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