August 1985
"Hmm, my head is hurting," I groaned, stirring awake with a throbbing pain pulsing through my skull. A groggy haze clouded my mind as I pried my eyes open, blinking against the unfamiliar surroundings. The room was simple yet elegant—not cheap by any means. A ceiling fan whirred lazily above me, stirring the warm air.
I dragged myself to my feet, my body sluggish as if it didn't quite belong to me. Shuffling toward the washroom, I turned on the tap and splashed cold water onto my face. The shock of it jolted me awake, clearing some of the fog in my head. I straightened up, glanced into the mirror—and froze.
The face staring back wasn't mine.
"What… who is this—ahhhh!" A sharp, searing pain stabbed through my temples, and suddenly, memories flooded in like a tidal wave. Images, voices, and emotions that weren't my own crashed into me, overwhelming my senses. After what felt like an eternity—but was probably only a few minutes—the storm subsided. I exhaled shakily, piecing together the impossible truth.
"I've been reborn… in the body of Anil Ambani, the youngest son of Dhirubhai Ambani." The realization hit me like a freight train. "My elder brother is Mukesh Ambani, Asia's future richest man… while I—he—will end up bankrupt."
I clenched my fists, staring at the stranger's face in the mirror. "No. This time, I won't let that happen. I know all the mistakes Anil made, and I have knowledge of the future—a priceless asset. This time, I'll become Asia's richest."
Knock knock.
"Come in," I called, turning toward the door.
It creaked open, and a young woman stepped inside. She was breathtaking—about twenty years old, dressed in a pristine white saree that draped elegantly over her slender frame. Her eyes remained lowered as she spoke, her voice soft and polite. "Young Master, the food is ready. Master is calling you to come eat."
"Okay." I nodded, following her out of the room. She led me through the house to a dining area where my new family waited. On one side sat Dhirubhai Ambani—my father—and Kokilaben Ambani, my mother. On the other, my brother Mukesh and his wife, Nita.
As I approached, I tested the waters. "Mom, Dad, Brother, Sister-in-law."
"Come, sit, let's eat," Father said warmly, gesturing to an empty chair.
The meal began with light conversation buzzing around the table, but my mind was elsewhere, plotting my next move. Halfway through, Father's voice broke through my thoughts. "Anil, you've been doing a good job in the company. I was thinking of promoting you to the board of directors."
I paused, a spoonful of food hovering near my mouth. Mukesh had been on the board for five years, groomed meticulously by Father. Joining now would pit me against him—a dangerous position. In the original timeline, Anil's downfall wasn't just his own doing; Mukesh's schemes had played a significant role. Their sibling rivalry had turned toxic, but I didn't have to follow that path.
"Dad," I said carefully, setting down my spoon, "I don't want to join the board of directors."
The table fell silent. Shock rippled across their faces, especially Mukesh's—he'd clearly expected me to leap at the chance.
"Why?" Father asked, his brow furrowing.
I took a deep breath, meeting everyone's gaze. "Dad, you've built a great empire and brought Reliance to incredible heights. Brother has already proven his abilities in the company, and I believe he's more suitable than me. I think it'd be better for him to take over Reliance. I don't want to fight with him over this."
Mukesh's eyes widened slightly, but I pressed on. "Instead, I'll start my own company—one that'll help the Ambani family grow even more. With Brother at Reliance and me leading a new venture, we'll be unstoppable. What do you think, Dad?"
Father's stern expression softened into a smile. "Well said." He chuckled, then raised an eyebrow. "Where will you get the money?"
I grinned cheekily. "Don't I have my father, the richest man around?"
A hearty laugh erupted from him, filling the room. "Okay, okay. What do you think, Mukesh?"
"I'll follow your wishes," Mukesh replied, his tone neutral but his eyes gleaming with something like relief. "I'll leave Reliance to you, Brother," I said, offering him a genuine smile. He nodded, a faint "hmm" escaping his lips, though I could tell he was pleased.
Later, Father summoned me to his study. The heavy wooden door clicked shut behind me as he leaned back in his chair, fixing me with a piercing gaze. "Tell me what you want."
"Money," I said bluntly. "I want to invest, see if I can multiply it, and prove my determination and abilities to you."
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. I'll give you 50 crore rupees. Show me what you can do."
"Thank you, Father." I bowed my head slightly, gratitude and ambition swelling in my chest.
Back in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed, my mind racing. With 50 crore rupees and my knowledge of the future, the possibilities were endless. I began recalling key events: the 1985 Plaza Agreement, the 1990 Japan stock market bubble, the 1986 and 1990 oil crises, the Soviet Union's disintegration, the Southeast Asian financial crisis, the 1987 Black Monday crash. History was my playbook.
"It's August now," I murmured to myself. "If I remember correctly, the Japanese yen starts rising in September after the Plaza Agreement. I need to get ready for Japan."
The game was on. This time, Anil Ambani wouldn't fall—I'd rise higher than anyone could imagine.
[To Be Continued…]