The farmhouse door closed softly behind them, leaving Dilli inside with Betal's flickering screens and impossible numbers dancing in the dim light. Outside, the air was heavy — a strange blend of disbelief and destiny.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The sound of rustling leaves and the distant hum of crickets filled the silence.
Finally, Dilli's father exhaled, his voice breaking the stillness.
"Tathayya… I don't know whether to be proud or terrified."
Dilli's great grandpa stood quietly, his gaze fixed on the golden horizon. His wrinkled hands trembled slightly as he reached for the small walking stick that had been passed down through generations.
"Every generation," he said softly, "one child is born who refuses to accept what the world calls impossible. Maybe our Dilli is that child."
His son shook his head, emotion clouding his voice. "But at what cost, Tathayya? He's just a boy. Look at what he's playing with — crores of rupees, secret accounts, and now… international betting? What if someone finds out? What if someone targets him? We barely understand how he's doing all this."
The old man's eyes softened as he looked toward the farmhouse window, where a faint shadow of Dilli moved inside.
"I've lived long enough to see wars, famine, and men who'd give their lives for a handful of coins. But I've never seen a boy who speaks of building nations at this age. Fear is natural — but fear should not be the reason we stop him."
Dilli's father turned, his eyes glistening. "You talk as if he's meant for something greater, Papa… but he's still our child. How can I stand by and watch him walk a path full of danger?"
Subbaraju smiled faintly, his face lit by the soft orange glow of sunset. "Because greatness never comes from safety, my son. It comes from struggle — from those who dare to dream when the world calls them foolish. But yes…" His voice lowered, cracking slightly. "He's walking on fire. And our duty is to make sure he doesn't burn."
The younger man sighed deeply, running his hand through his hair. "He says he wants to make the country the strongest in the world. Sometimes I wonder if he even understands what that means."
"Oh, he understands," the old man replied quietly. "He just feels it differently. You and I think of survival — he thinks of transformation."
The father's eyes filled with tears as he whispered, "I've worked my whole life to give him stability, and he's already shaking the ground beneath my feet."
Tathayya chuckled softly, a sound of weary pride. "That's what visionaries do. You build homes; he'll build worlds."
They stood in silence again, both staring at the fading sun.
Then, the old man placed a trembling hand on his son's shoulder. "Listen to me carefully," he said, voice firm despite its age. "We will not stop him. We will not question his fire. But we must protect it. Whatever money, land, or trust he needs, we will provide quietly. And if he falls, we'll be there to lift him — not to scold him."
The father's throat tightened. "And if the world turns against him?"
Tathayya's eyes gleamed with the wisdom of a century. "Then we stand beside him. Because blood and belief are stronger than fear. He may be a boy today, but that boy is carrying the weight of a thousand dreams. And that burden must never crush him — it must forge him."
As the sky dimmed into twilight, they began walking down the dusty path toward the village.
Behind them, the farmhouse glowed faintly — a small beacon of light against the gathering dusk. Inside that light was a boy who dreamed beyond generations… and two men who had just made a silent promise to protect his impossible dream, no matter the cost.
From inside the farmhouse, Dilli stood frozen near the window, the faint hum of Betal's systems fading into silence.With Dilli's senses now through the thin wooden panels, he could hear their voices — his father's heavy with worry, his great grandfather's steady with faith.
Each word felt like it was meant for him.
"He's walking on fire… and our duty is to make sure he doesn't burn."
Those words echoed in his mind. His throat tightened. For all his confidence, all his sharp calculations and grand visions, Dilli suddenly felt small — like the little boy he actually was.
His reflection in the glass looked back at him — a child who had just moved the world, yet trembled at the thought of disappointing his family.
He could hear his father now, voice cracking with love and fear.
"I've worked my whole life to give him stability, and he's already shaking the ground beneath my feet."
Dilli's eyes burned with tears. He pressed his forehead against the cool windowpane, his chest heaving. Every sacrifice his father had made, every wrinkle on Tathayya's face — it was all flashing before him like lightning in a storm.
He hadn't realized how much his dreams were weighing on them. To him, it was destiny. To them, it was danger.
Betal's soft voice broke the silence from behind.
"Big Brother… are you crying?"
Dilli didn't turn. "No," he whispered, voice shaking. "Just… thinking."
The AI paused for a moment before saying gently, "You humans think too much when your hearts are full."
Dilli gave a faint, tearful smile. "You wouldn't understand, Betal. They're not afraid of what I'm doing… they're afraid of losing me."
He turned back toward the window, watching the silhouettes of his father and great grandfather disappear into the distance — two generations walking away, carrying both pride and fear in their hearts.
"They shouldn't have to protect me," he murmured. "I should be the one protecting them."
Betal tilted his tone, curious. "So what will you do, Master?"
Dilli wiped his eyes and drew a long breath. The emotion in him transformed — from guilt to resolve. His young face hardened, his voice steady and filled with quiet fire.
"I'll make sure their faith never breaks. I'll make them proud of every risk I take. From this day, I won't just build companies, Betal — I'll build a nation. I'll create something so strong that my father will never have to sell another acre, and my Tathayya will never have to worry again."
Betal hummed approvingly. "That sounds like the Dilli I know."
A small smile tugged at the corner of Dilli's lips. "No, Betal. That's not Dilli anymore."
He looked at the glowing figures on the monitor — the impossible wealth, the foundation of a coming empire — and whispered with unwavering conviction:
"This is the beginning of Cosmos. And from this point on… we rise."
The farmhouse lights flickered as Betal's systems came alive again, reflecting off Dilli's tear-streaked face. The innocence of childhood was fading, replaced by a quiet power — the birth of a leader forged by love, purpose, and sacrifice.
Outside, the night wind carried the echoes of his family's faith. Inside, a boy's promise burned brighter than ever.