The year was 2007.
While the world was preoccupied with politics and current affairs, a young couple from a small town in Thrissur sat huddled together, holding hands desperately and praying that no one would recognise them. They were waiting at the railway station for the final train, firmly believing that escaping was their only option. When the announcement finally echoed through the station, a wave of relief washed over them; they felt that, at last, everything would be alright. As Anjali rested her head on his shoulder, Srinath found himself reflecting on how their lives had led to this moment.
Anjali and Srinath were childhood friends who had never let a single day pass without seeing one another. However, their backgrounds were worlds apart; she came from an upper-middle-class family, whereas his upbringing was far more modest. Srinath had never known his mother and was raised solely by his feckless father. It felt almost inevitable, therefore, that he would fall in love with Anjali as he reached adolescence, for she was the only woman who had ever shown him genuine affection.
From the moment those feelings blossomed, they both knew their parents would never consent to their union. Yet, as Anjali grew more beautiful and elegant, her devotion to Srinath only deepened. It was, in fact, her idea to elope. Consequently, the moment Srinath secured a job in Chennai, his first priority was to contact her secretly and arrange their departure.
She waited patiently until she turned eighteen, at which point he returned to their small town unnoticed to take her to register their marriage. Though they were barely of legal age—young, naive, and brimming with hope—they believed that as long as they had each other, they could conquer the world.
With their union official, they headed to the station. Srinath knew his father would remain indifferent to his whereabouts, but Anjali’s family would surely come looking for her. Luckily, with the legal system now on their side, they could only pray that nothing unexpected would hinder their journey.
Anjali eventually drifted off, only to be awoken by the sound of Srinath’s voice. “Anjali, Anjali… wake up, we are here.” Stirring from her tired slumber, she saw him by her side, holding a bottle of water for her. She took a long gulp and peered out of the window. “Is this Chennai?” she asked.
“Yes, it is, and this is our stop. Come on now,” he replied. They gathered their luggage and made their way out of the station, where he hailed an auto-rickshaw and gave the driver directions. As they rattled through the streets, Anjali gazed down at the mangalsutra he had tied around her neck the previous day, still struggling to believe that this day had finally arrived.
They eventually reached their destination: a quiet neighbourhood inhabited by families and working men. He led her to their new home, a humble dwelling consisting of just a single room and a kitchen. Although Srinath was overjoyed to be with her, deep down, he felt a pang of guilt for bringing her to such a small house. She had come from a comfortable home that provided everything she needed, and he longed to give her even more than she had ever known; yet, for now, this was all he could afford.
“This is it,” he said softly. “Our home.”
“Our home!” Anjali repeated, her voice filled with immense hope and happiness.
Following tradition, they both stepped across the threshold with their right feet first. The moment they entered, Srinath closed the door and embraced her. Anjali, who had been longing for this very moment, looked into his eyes with burning passion. Slowly, their lips met for the first time in a long-awaited kiss.
To them, every minute felt like a mere second as they remained lost in each other’s arms. When they finally drew apart, Srinath held her face in his hands and whispered, “Anjali…”
“Yes, Sri?” she replied.
“I promise you, one day, you will live in a mansion,” he vowed.
“A hut or a mansion, it doesn’t matter,” she said, “as long as you are with me. That is all I need.”
Moved by her words and still feeling a hint of guilt, he embraced her once more.
Afterwards, Anjali began to look around their new space. The kitchen was small, but he had already purchased all the necessary utensils. However, a few essentials were still missing.
“Sri, there is no milk, and we need some vegetables for dinner too,” she told him in a playful, wifey tone. Hearing this, Srinath’s heart melted; it was the first time he had heard her speak to him with such domestic affection.
“It’s alright, dear,” he assured her. “There is a stationery shop just around the corner. You can buy all the necessary items there. “Come, I will show you; you can meet a few people too.” With those words, they headed out together, walking hand in hand towards the store. After purchasing what they needed, they returned home. That evening, they prepared dinner together, sitting on the floor to feed one another. That night, they became one, not just in soul but in body.
Anjali woke the next day feeling like a complete woman. She prepared tea for her beloved husband and watched him leave for work. Srinath worked at a luxury hotel as part of the office staff; his role was relatively low-stress and less hectic than others. Nevertheless, he maintained a great rapport with his colleagues and other staff members, which benefited his career immensely. While Srinath was at work, Anjali taught dance to a few children in the neighbourhood, helping them to make ends meet.
Whenever he returned home, the first thing he loved to do was kiss his wife and lead her into their room. There, he would gently move aside her saree’s pallu to admire her marvellous navel. Despite having seen many films, he felt he had never seen anyone with such beautiful features; to him, it was the “perfect navel,” and he adored it. Anjali was quietly fond of his naughty obsession. He had even asked her to flaunt it when they were out in public, wanting others to feel envious that he had such a stunning wife. However, she never did so—not because she found his request demeaning, but simply because she was too shy.
Weeks passed. One morning, after Srinath had left for work, Anjali was busy with her chores when she suddenly rushed to the back of the house to vomit. At first, she mentally retraced her steps, wondering what she had eaten to cause such a reaction. Then, a sudden realisation hit her, and a wide smile spread across her face.
That evening, when Srinath returned, she said, “Sri, I want to ask you something.”
Unbuttoning his shirt, he replied, “Sure, what is it, my darling?”
“I want to eat a masala dosa,” she said.
“Is that all? Of course, I’ll buy you one tomorrow. It’s too late now; the restaurants will be closed,” he replied, not catching her drift.
She pressed further, “Sri, I really want to eat a masala dosa right now.”
Struck by the unusual request, he looked at her closely. She met his gaze with a gentle smile, resting a hand on her belly. It was then that he understood. “Really? Are you…?” he asked, lost for words. She nodded in agreement. Overjoyed, he knelt before her, kissed her belly, and hugged her tightly around the waist.
Months later, Anjali gave birth to a healthy baby boy via a normal delivery. They named him Aditya. Thanks to the support of Srinath’s friends, they were able to afford a good hospital. However, once they returned home, finances became tight; raising a child was far more expensive than they had anticipated.
A few months passed, and the day arrived for the baby’s routine hospital visit and vaccinations. Srinath had forgotten to leave money for the appointment before heading to work. Consequently, Anjali took the child and went to the hotel where he worked. By now, she could speak Tamil fluently and read it passably. Arriving at the hotel, she was struck by its sheer size. She went to the staff entrance and asked a security guard to call for Srinath.
A few minutes later, Srinath appeared, apologising profusely for his forgetfulness. As they were talking, a lady approached them. “Who is she, Srinath?” she asked.
“Oh, hello, Boss. This is my wife, Anjali. Anjali, this is Nithya Ma’am, the head of my department.”
Anjali greeted her respectfully.
“What a cute child! Why is she here?” the boss asked. “I forgot to leave money for the hospital visit, so she came to collect it,” Srinath admitted, looking a little sheepish.
“To be honest, he’s a brilliant employee, but I didn’t know he was such a lousy husband and father,” she teased, praising and mocking him in the same breath.
“He has been having a hard time lately; he just forgot,” Anjali said, quickly defending her husband.
“Well, if you aren’t in a hurry, why don’t you visit the restaurant?” the boss suggested.
Noticing Anjali’s distressed state, Nithya leaned in and said kindly, “There is a private space for VIP visitors where you can feed your baby. I shall inform the staff.” Even though Anjali looked beautiful, it was evident that she was utterly exhausted. Both Srinath and Anjali thanked her before he led his wife to the private room within the restaurant. After ensuring she was settled, Srinath returned to his work.
Inside, the air conditioner blew a gentle, chilled breeze, creating a serene atmosphere. Feeling a sense of relief, Anjali fed her baby in the quiet of the room. Once finished, she stepped out to inform Srinath that she was leaving and began walking towards the front entrance.
As she reached the lobby, a male voice called out, “Amma, please stop! I would like to ask you something.” She turned to see a dark-skinned, clean-shaven man approaching her.
“Yes, you! Please, it will only take a minute,” he added. He was dressed in a pastel blue, half-sleeved shirt and black trousers, with a slight paunch.
“Amma, my name is Marivel Selvan. I am a film director. Might I ask what your name is?” he inquired humbly, without a hint of professional arrogance.
“Anjali,” she replied briefly.
“Are you busy at the moment? I have something I would like to discuss,” he said, glancing at the child in her arms.
“A little, yes. I am heading to the hospital and want to arrive before it becomes too crowded,” she explained.
“Oh, are you a Malayali?” Marivel deduced, noting her distinct accent.
“Yes, my husband works here. I just came to see him before my appointment,” she replied.
“I understand. If you are free after your visit, would you mind coming to my room? Please, feel free to bring your husband along. I simply wish to ask a few questions,” he said politely. He then took out his business card, scribbled his room number on it, and handed it to her.
Anjali smiled, thanked him, and immediately went to find Srinath to recount the encounter.
“What does he want to ask?” Srinath questioned.
“I am not sure, but he spoke very gently. I didn’t get a bad impression from him,” she admitted.
“So… do you want to meet him this evening?”
“I don’t know,” she replied hesitantly. “I don’t think I want to.”
“Come on, let’s at least hear what he has to say,” Srinath encouraged her. “I will be right there with you. If anything feels wrong, I’ll protect you.” She offered him a small grin in response.
After her hospital visit, Anjali returned to the hotel and waited for her husband at the back entrance, cradling their child. When Srinath’s shift ended half an hour later, they made their way to the room Marivel had mentioned. Standing before the door, Srinath looked at her reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Nothing will happen.” She gave him a hollow, nervous smile.
Srinath rang the bell. Moments later, Marivel opened the door. Recognizing Anjali and seeing the man beside her, he correctly assumed it was the husband she had mentioned.
“Amma, please come in. Come in, son,” he invited warmly.
As they entered, and Marivel prepared to close the door, Srinath spoke up firmly, “Sir, could you please leave the door open until we finish?”
Marivel understood his concern immediately. “That is quite alright, son. I know we cinema people have a certain reputation. But rest assured, I have no ill intentions; I only wish to talk.”
Leaving the door ajar, he sat on the edge of the bed and offered them chairs. He began the conversation directly: “So, Anjali, wasn’t it? Tell me, are you interested in acting?”
The couple had suspected as much. Why else would a director invite a woman with no industry connections to his room?
Anjali replied, “It is not that I am uninterested, I would have even been willing to try. But unfortunately, you may be too late. I don’t believe I can pursue this while caring for my son. If it weren’t for him, I would have said yes immediately.”
Determined not to lose his potential lead, Marivel countered with a new proposal. “What if I told you that I could arrange for someone to look after your child during filming? Would you consider it then?”
“What kind of arrangement?” Srinath asked, his curiosity piqued. “We will provide a hotel room for your husband and son for the entire duration of the shoot,” Marivel explained.
“Your scenes will be filmed during the day, after which you can return to the room to spend the night with your family. We will cover all expenses, including the hotel stay, essentials for the baby, and, most importantly, we will ensure your safety and privacy.”
Anjali was surprised by such generous terms, but Srinath remained sceptical. “Why would you go to such lengths for us?” he asked bluntly. “What do you stand to gain from this?”
Marivel sighed. “To be perfectly honest, she is striking. My next project is about to begin, and I haven’t been able to find a suitable heroine. When I saw her in the lobby this morning, I couldn’t picture anyone else in the role. She is perfect for it.”
“I imagine you’ve said that to many girls before,” Srinath countered, still unconvinced.
“I understand your doubts and your fears,” Marivel replied solemnly. “I promise you, I will not lay a finger on her, and I will ensure her safety until the film is complete. I may not be a man of many words, but this is a promise I intend to keep.”
As they sat in deep thought, Marivel continued, “Look, son, I’m not asking her to be a minor actress; I intend to cast her as the lead. Imagine how your lives could change. What are the odds of a chance meeting with a director leading to a starring role?”
“We need time to think about this, Sir. It’s a lot to take in,” Anjali said.
“Very well. I will give you two days,” Marivel reminded them. “After that, I must attend to other matters. I am a busy man, so please decide quickly.”
“We will, Sir,” Anjali replied.
“Good. Call me once you’ve decided; my number is on the card I gave you.” After a brief goodbye, they headed home.
Once they had left, Marivel lay back on his bed, recollecting Anjali’s face. She possessed an angelic beauty. Having seen countless beautiful women across the country, none had struck him quite like her. Words could barely describe her, yet he had sensed a lingering hint of sadness in her eyes.
The following day, Srinath made enquiries among his colleagues about Marivel Selvan. He gathered a fair amount of information; the director was a frequent guest at the hotel and had no reputation for being a womaniser. He primarily made films for a younger audience—movies that were generally well-received, though critics often took issue with his penchant for misplaced ‘item songs’ and the focus on the heroines’ midriffs in romantic sequences. However, his fans didn’t seem to mind, and several of those songs had become major hits. Furthermore, a few current A-list actresses had started their careers in his films; he clearly had a knack for discovering fresh faces.
Srinath shared all of this with Anjali when he returned home.
“Do you think it’s a good idea to be in his movie?” Anjali asked, her voice tinged with concern. “You mentioned he might expect me to wear costumes that expose my midriff for the songs.”
“Yes,” Srinath admitted with a hint of disappointment. “He has every heroine do that. I don’t think he’ll make an exception for you.”
“Is it really worth it?” she asked, seeking his opinion. “If exposing my midriff leads to a better life, should I take it?”
“It would certainly bring in a lot of money, and we could move out of this tiny house,” Srinath replied. “But the real question is: do you truly want to do it?”
“It’s not that I want to, but given our current situation, I am willing to,” she said.
Srinath was surprised. “Really? You’re okay with that?”
“As I said, what choice do we have? If you aren’t comfortable with it, then we can just forget this ever happened,” she told him. “Truly?” he laughed, slightly bemused. “You’ve never even worn a sleeveless dress, yet you’re okay with this?”
“I don’t know,” she confessed, confused. “I can’t decide what to do.”
Srinath gently took her chin and tilted her face so she was looking into his eyes. “Hey, I’m okay with whatever you decide. Good or bad, we will face it together.”
Anjali felt a sudden warmth in her heart. “Then we shall call him tomorrow and tell him I am ready,” Anjali said. They looked at each other, knowing this was not an easy decision, but a necessary one for their future.
The next day, Marivel received the call and was delighted to hear her answer. He instructed them to meet the producer the following week at his residence. When they arrived, both Marivel and the scriptwriter were already there. The moment the producer saw Anjali, he was just as captivated as Marivel had been; her angelic beauty won him over instantly.
“When you told me she was the most beautiful girl you had ever seen, I was sceptical,” the producer admitted to Marivel. “But you were right—she is indeed the prettiest girl I have ever encountered.”
They handed her an advance cheque and a portion of the script. The shoot was scheduled to begin in two months. Until then, she was to attend Dance Master Neha’s studio for choreography. There would also be a promotional photoshoot with the lead actor and a press meet for publicity. Srinath and Anjali were impressed by the meticulous planning.
Before signing the contract, the producer turned to Marivel. “Mari, why don’t we change her name? There are already many Anjalis in the industry. Let’s give her a distinct stage name.”
“I was just about to suggest that,” Marivel agreed. “Her beauty was such a surprise at first sight. Let’s call her Ascharya. And since she is a Malayali, let’s add ‘Menon’ as her surname. From now on, you will be known as Ascharya Menon in the credits. Do you like it?” Anjali nodded in agreement.
“A word of advice,” Marivel continued. “Since you are debuting as a lead, do not mention that you are a mother or even that you are married. It could affect your career. For now, this remains our secret.”
With the advance money, Srinath and Anjali rented an apartment in a better neighbourhood. Soon, they visited the dance studio as instructed. It was a massive hall lined with mirrors, where several dancers were stretching and practising. Some girls wore only sports bras, and no one seemed to mind. A tall, bronze-skinned woman with a muscular physique approached them and introduced herself as Neha.
After inquiring about Anjali’s dancing background, Neha demonstrated a few steps she had choreographed. She chose a simpler routine to start with, but to her surprise, Ascharya mimicked her movements perfectly. Though it lacked a professional’s elegance, it was remarkable for a beginner. Neha was impressed, thinking Ascharya was a natural talent. She didn’t realise it wasn’t just talent—it was desperation that made Anjali’s body move so effortlessly.
There were two songs to learn: a romantic duet and a fast-paced solo with complex footwork. Neha decided to focus on the fast-paced number first, as it required more practice. A male assistant helped her during these sessions. Throughout the rehearsals, Srinath stayed at the studio. When people grew curious about his presence, he told them he was Ascharya’s cousin and manager, adding that he was a widower to explain why he was always caring for the child. This stopped any further questioning.
Two weeks later, the lead actor arrived at the studio, accompanied by the producer and director. Like the others before him, the actor was mesmerised by Ascharya’s beauty. Thanks to a better diet and lifestyle, she looked even more radiant than before. Marivel felt truly lucky to have discovered her. With the hero now present, they began rehearsing the romantic song. The director requested that she practise in a saree, as he wanted the character to be dressed in one throughout the song. One of Neha’s female assistants led her to the changing room, where a deep blue chiffon saree had been prepared for this purpose. Anjali wore leggings underneath and a sports bra in place of a blouse. The saree was draped in a way that left most of her midriff exposed, tucked several inches below her navel.
When she returned to the hall, her beauty left everyone speechless. Her belly was flat—not because of a strict health regime, but because she had rarely had enough to eat. Her navel was a vertically long, oval shape, deep enough that a thumb could easily rest within it. Every eye in the room was drawn to her, specifically to her midriff. Surprisingly, Srinath felt a strange sense of pride watching the others admire her, though he remained composed, hiding his emotions. Anjali caught his eye for a brief second; that single glance was enough for them to communicate. It was her way of telling him not to worry, and he understood perfectly.
As Neha taught them the steps, the lead actor and Anjali began to perform together. Each time the actor touched her, Srinath’s heart pounded faster. He noticed Anjali casting occasional glances toward him, seeking reassurance. During the session, the actor suggested changing the steps to make the scene feel “more romantic.” Srinath immediately sensed his intentions and shot a stern, disapproving look at Marivel. Understanding the silent warning, Marivel insisted they stick to Neha’s original choreography. The actor was surprised; having worked with Marivel before, he knew the director rarely turned down suggestions to heighten the romance. Slightly annoyed, he continued as planned.
The male gaze remained fixed on her navel throughout the week. After one session, Neha looked at her and remarked, “Marivel Sir has catapulted many actresses to fame. With a navel like yours, you’ll be a huge star in no time.” To Anjali’s shock, Neha leaned in and kissed her midriff.
Anjali recounted the incident to Srinath later that evening. “Haha, I had a hunch that Neha might be lesbian or bisexual. This confirms it,” he remarked.
“It doesn’t matter; she touched me without my permission,” Anjali replied, her voice tinged with anger.
“Then next time anyone makes a move, tell them to stop,” Srinath said seriously. “If they persist, slap them as hard as you can.”
Once little Aditya was asleep, they spent their time rehearsing the script together. Srinath helped her refine her acting, and since her role was relatively small, she found it easy to memorise her lines. However, one scene troubled her: a moment where her character almost kisses the hero. While it was easy to practice the intimacy with Srinath, the thought of doing it on set was daunting. She would have to hug the actor, her entire torso pressed against his. Srinath reassured her, telling her not to overthink it.
A few days later, the costume designer arrived with his assistants. He was efficient and professional, introduced himself briefly, and took her measurements—including arm length and thigh thickness—within minutes. He informed her that the final costumes would only be available at the filming location.
Soon, the Pooja and the press meet took place. A professional make-up artist transformed her look in less than ten minutes—a task that would have taken Anjali an hour. During the press meet, she remained poised, maintaining a gentle smile and answering prepared questions with maturity. Her calm voice and thoughtful responses impressed even the seasoned journalists.
Finally, the shoot began. Anjali wasn’t required for the initial filming days, as she only appeared in five scenes. The production team decided to film her songs first—a common tactic used by filmmakers to secure the most demanding or “risky” scenes early on. This way, if an actor became uncomfortable and abandoned the project, the most difficult parts would already be in the can. The production team decided to film the romantic song first, as it was considered a “hot” and pivotal sequence. Anjali changed into her costume inside the caravan, while the shoot took place in a studio where the crew had been kept to a minimum. Despite the pressure, the entire experience was fascinating for both Srinath and Anjali.
Her first costume was a plain black georgette saree paired with a matching spaghetti-strap blouse. The outfit left her midriff entirely exposed. Feeling embarrassed, she kept a trench coat on inside the caravan and only removed it moments before the camera rolled. It was a daunting challenge for her to be so exposed with so many eyes fixed upon her. However, the moment Marivel shouted “Action!” into the microphone, she danced with the elegance Neha had taught her. She poured her heart into the performance, executing every move she had perfected over the past two months.
All eyes were on her, particularly on her striking navel. Marivel instructed the cinematographer to capture her beauty from every possible perspective. Though she felt a wave of repulsion when the lead actor grabbed her during the sequence, she tolerated it and pushed through. Srinath, sensing her discomfort, remained silent but stayed by her side, keeping her informed about upcoming shots and helping her prepare mentally.
The shoot for the first song lasted a week. This was largely due to Marivel’s insistence on numerous retakes to ensure her beauty was captured from every conceivable angle. Each day followed a tiring routine: going to the caravan, changing costumes, filming a dance sequence, and repeating the process. Marivel comforted her, explaining that this was the reality of a professional actor’s life.
For that single song, she wore three different plain georgette sarees, each with a unique blouse design. Along with the black spaghetti-strap blouse, there was a red one featuring a bikini-style top that covered her chest but left her back entirely bare. The third was a deep green saree, perhaps the most daring of all; the blouse was strapless, held together at the back by only three thin strings. Usually, when a song shoot drags on, the crew grows bored of seeing the same actress in revealing costumes, but this time was different. No one could look away; her innocent, angelic face contrasted with her alluring presence, leaving the crew almost hypnotised.
As promised, Marivel only filmed during the day, allowing her to leave by evening. She spent those nights in the hotel room with her husband and son, playing with the baby and feeding him while Srinath helped her rehearse her dialogues. Early each morning, she would prepare for the day, feed her child, and head back to the set. Maintaining their secrecy was difficult, but with Marivel’s assistance, they managed to pull it off.
Once the romantic song was completed, they moved on to her dialogue scenes, which she found much easier. Thanks to Srinath’s coaching, she nailed her performances in just a few takes, impressing everyone with her professionalism. Her scenes were wrapped up within two weeks.
Finally, they filmed the fast-paced dance number. Unlike the previous song, Marivel finished this one in just four days, as the presence of numerous background dancers made a longer shoot too expensive. Nevertheless, he still managed to capture plenty of close-up shots of her navel. Once her portions were completed, Marivel paid her the remainder of her fees along with a bonus of a few lakhs and gave her his blessings. Both of them thanked him. Srinath convinced her to put the money into a fixed deposit, noting that the interest would be sufficient to cover their rent and other expenses. After a short break, he returned to work.
The film’s post-production was soon completed, and a final press meet was held for the song release. The team decided to air all the tracks except for the romantic one, planning to release it two weeks later. They believed this strategy would generate word-of-mouth publicity, encouraging more people to visit the cinema specifically to watch that song on the big screen. Notably, her lines were dubbed by another artist, as her Tamil carried a distinct Malayali accent.
Finally, the release date arrived. Both Anjali and Srinath were nervous, though Srinath tried to remain calm. They decided to watch the film in a cinema to gauge the audience’s reaction. To ensure she wasn’t recognised, Srinath devised a plan: he hired a nanny for a few hours and pre-booked their seats in advance. He insisted she wear a hoodie and a cap, advising her to keep her head down until the film began. They arrived just in time to avoid attention. As it was a morning show, the theatre was only half-full, mostly occupied by college students.
The movie started in typical Marivel style, but the atmosphere shifted when Ascharya made her entry; Srinath noticed the entire audience fell silent, captivated by her appearance. As the story progressed into the scenes where the hero woos the heroine, Anjali blushed seeing her own cute expressions on the screen. Srinath leaned in and whispered, “You look gorgeous up there.” Overwhelmed, she remained silent, her eyes fixed on the screen.
Just before the interval, the romantic song played. Although Srinath wanted to observe the crowd’s reaction, he found himself glued to the screen, mesmerised by her magnetic presence. During the interval, he headed to the restroom. While there, he struck up a conversation with the person next to him, asking, “How’s the movie? Do you think it’s worth ninety rupees?” The man replied, “I can’t say for sure until it’s over, but man… the heroine is stunning! I’d definitely watch it again just for her. Why didn’t they show that saree song on TV?” Hearing this, Srinath felt oddly proud of her.
He returned with popcorn for the second half, which featured a fast-paced dance number. She looked beautiful in a knee-length yellow skirt with intricate embroidery and a low-cut blouse, her wrists adorned with colourful bangles. Srinath noticed that all the men’s eyes were glued to the screen. Her performance was so hypnotic that while fans usually dance during fast songs, this time they sat in silent admiration. When the song ended, the audience erupted in applause.
Srinath looked at Anjali, knowing their lives were about to change forever. She saw a new sense of optimism in his eyes—and something else she had never felt from him before—which piqued her curiosity. They waited until the theatre cleared before leaving, noticing the satisfied looks on the faces of the departing crowd. They knew then that the movie would be a hit.
The following day, Marivel called with the news: the public response was excellent, though critics were divided. Regardless, the producer was expected to recover the budget within a week; anything beyond that would cement it as a super-hit. Happy to hear this, Srinath requested to meet Marivel in person, to which he agreed.