In the heart of Mumbai, where dreams rose and fell like waves against the shoreline, Krishna stood on the narrow balcony of his apartment. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the sprawling city. The year was 2024, and India was thrivingâits film industry reaching new heights, exporting the magic of both Tollywood and Bollywood to the world. But for Krishna, it wasn't enough. The glitz and glamour of Bollywood couldn't contain his ambition.
His gaze drifted over the chaotic streets below, alive with the pulse of evening traffic. Horns blared, and voices shouted into the thick air, but Krishna's mind was elsewhereâfar beyond the city he had known all his life. His dreams soared across oceans, toward a place that had captivated his imagination for as long as he could remember: Hollywood.
To Krishna, Hollywood wasn't just a placeâit was a dream factory, a land where films had the power to capture the imagination of the world. It was where he wanted to take his stories, where he believed his vision of Indian mythology could reach a global audience. But he knew it wouldn't be easy. No one was waiting for a young filmmaker from Andhra Pradesh with an obsession for ancient epics.
He pulled his well-worn notebook from his pocket, the one that had become an extension of himself over the years. Inside were sketches of battle scenes, character designs, and hastily scribbled dialogue from a story that had consumed him: Kurukshetra. His version of the great battle from the Mahabharata, reimagined as a cinematic spectacle with all the grandeur of a Hollywood blockbuster. It was a passion project, his ultimate goal, and the culmination of everything that had shaped him
As a child, Krishna had spent countless hours at his grandmother's feet, listening to her stories of gods and demons, of heroic warriors and divine charioteers. The Mahabharata, the Ramayana, and the many other mythological sagas had sparked a fire in him, one that grew stronger as he aged. While his friends had marveled at superheroes like Iron Man and Batman, Krishna had idolized Arjuna and Bhima, the Pandavas whose moral dilemmas were far more complex than any comic book hero he had ever read.
Those stories had shaped his view of storytelling, of heroism, of good and evil. He didn't want to merely entertain. He wanted to share the vastness of Indian mythology with the world, to show that these ancient tales held lessons that transcended culture. But selling a project like Kurukshetra to a global audience? That was no small task.
Indian mythology was rich, complex, and deeply entwined with the spirituality and history of the country. For a Western audience, Krishna knew it might seem foreign, even overwhelming. But he had a planâhe believed that the universal themes of morality, duty, and sacrifice could connect people across cultures. The key was in how the story was told, in grounding these epic characters with emotions and struggles that anyone could relate to. If done right, the film could transcend borders.
There was one man who could help him take the first step toward realizing that dreamâRajan Mehta, a powerful producer in Mumbai with connections in Hollywood. Known for his discerning eye, Rajan had launched the careers of some of the most successful filmmakers in India. Krishna had been trying to get a meeting with him for months, and tomorrow was the day. The day that could change everything.
A gust of wind swept through the balcony, pulling Krishna from his thoughts. The city, with all its noise and chaos, seemed to fade as his mind filled with images from Kurukshetra. He pictured Arjuna standing on the battlefield, his bow lowered, conflicted, as the armies of the Pandavas and Kauravas prepared to clash. And beside him, Krishna, the divine charioteer, offering counsel with a calmness that belied the destruction about to unfold.
Krishna felt his heart race. His dreams felt so close, but the path ahead was uncertain. The meeting with Rajan could be the beginning of something extraordinaryâor just another dead end. He closed his notebook, resolving to take it one step at a time.
As the night deepened, Krishna lay in bed, the hum of the city still echoing faintly through the thin walls of his apartment. He whispered a prayer to the gods his grandmother had spoken of, seeking their guidance. Tomorrow, he would meet with Rajan Mehta. Tomorrow, his fate would start to unfold.
Clutching the notebook to his chest, Krishna felt the weight of the small red crystal that hung around his neck. His grandmother had given it to him before she passed, telling him it was a talisman, a symbol of protection from the gods. It had stayed with him ever since, a constant reminder of the stories that had shaped his life.
As sleep overtook him, Krishna's mind filled with vivid dreams. He stood on the battlefield of Kurukshetra, surrounded by the sounds of warâthe clash of swords, the cries of soldiers, the thunder of horses' hooves. Arjuna stood before him, his face lined with doubt, his body tense with the weight of the choices he faced. But this time, Krishna wasn't just an observer. He was a part of the scene, feeling the gravity of the moment, the whispers of the Bhagavad Gita in his ears, filling him with ancient wisdom
Krishna looked down, and to his surprise, the red crystal around his neck was glowingâbrighter than ever before. Its light pulsed in rhythm with his breath, almost as if it were alive, as if it were calling to him. The energy from the crystal surged through him,
but before he could understand what it meant, his eyes snapped open, pulling him back to reality.The room was dark, silent except for the distant honking of horns from the streets below. Krishna sat up, clutching the crystal,
his mind still reeling from the dream. He couldn't shake the feeling that it had been more than just a dream. It had felt real, almost as if the gods themselves were trying to communicate something to him.But what?Shaking off the remnants of sleep, Krishna rose from bed and looked out the window, the city stretching endlessly before him.
Whatever the dream had meant, he knew one thing for certainâtomorrow was the beginning of his journey. Whether he was ready or not, his destiny awaited.