India: The Legend of Aritra

Date: July 5, 2008

The ceiling fan in Aritra Naskar's room groaned in protest as it spun, its wobbly rhythm matching the tempo of his racing thoughts. The translucent interface of the Legendary System hovered before him, casting a faint bluish glow on his cluttered desk—textbooks stacked haphazardly, a cracked Casio calculator, and a pen that had mysteriously vanished and reappeared more times than his interest in chemistry.

Alright, let's get serious, Aritra thought, leaning back in his rickety chair. If I'm going to conquer the world, I need to know exactly how broke I am first.

With a flicker of mental command, he navigated to his online banking portal. The interface loaded with excruciating slowness, almost as if the bank servers were mocking his ambition.

Current Balance: 10,000 INR.

Aritra stared. Blinked. Stared again.

10,000?

The number sat there, unapologetic and unimpressive, like that one relative who shows up uninvited to every family gathering.

I have the knowledge to dominate global markets, futuristic tech at my fingertips... and ten thousand rupees. Great. Just great.

He sighed dramatically, flopping back into his chair like a tragic hero. "Legendary System, any chance you can convert my disappointment into cash?" he muttered.

The System responded instantly.

"Financial distress detected. Initiating asset management protocol."

Aritra perked up. Now we're talking.

"Recommendation: Creation of a secure, undisclosed financial account linked to offshore investments and stock trading platforms."

Ah, yes. Nothing screams 'future billionaire' like an offshore account, Aritra thought, grinning.

With a mental confirmation, the System worked its magic. Within minutes, Aritra had an account that would make even the most seasoned money launderers nod in approval. It was discreet, untraceable, and equipped with access to international stock exchanges.

The System even generated a ridiculously official-sounding name for it: "Naskar Global Holdings."

Fancy. Might as well start referring to myself as Chairman Aritra Naskar, he mused.

Now came the fun part: investments. The System provided real-time data, highlighting stocks destined to skyrocket. Apple, Amazon, early Bitcoin ventures—it was like having insider knowledge without the legal consequences.

But just as he was about to execute his first trade, the tranquility shattered.

SLAM!

The front door banged open, followed by the unmistakable sounds of his parents' voices.

Oh no. The parental units have arrived.

Aritra scrambled, closing the System interface like a teenager hiding questionable websites. He grabbed his physics textbook, flipping it open with the urgency of someone who definitely hadn't been plotting financial domination moments ago.

His mother peeked in, her school bag slung over her shoulder, looking both exhausted and suspicious.

"Aritra, what are you doing?" she asked, eyeing the book with the precision of a seasoned educator.

"Uh... studying Newton's third law. For every action, there's an equal and opposite… reaction?" he stammered, praying she wouldn't notice the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

She narrowed her eyes but said nothing, disappearing into the kitchen. His father followed, dropping his bag with a sigh loud enough to be heard in the next district.

Aritra exhaled. Crisis averted.

For now.

India: The Legend of Aritra

Chapter 4: The First Pot of Gold (Part 2)

Date: July 5, 2008 (Evening)

Aritra sat stiffly at his desk, pretending to be deeply engrossed in his physics textbook. He could hear his parents bustling around the house—his mother clattering utensils in the kitchen, his father complaining about the school's new syllabus, and both occasionally shouting reminders to each other about things they'd probably forget anyway.

But Aritra had bigger things on his mind.

Alright, focus, he thought, sneaking a glance at the translucent Legendary System interface he'd covertly reopened, positioned perfectly within his line of sight but invisible to anyone else.

His newly created "Naskar Global Holdings" account gleamed on the screen like a digital trophy, ready to welcome its first real investment.

"Host, recommended stocks have been curated. High-yield, low-risk opportunities identified."

High-yield, low-risk? You really know how to sweet-talk me, System, Aritra smirked.

He navigated through the suggestions:

Apple Inc. (AAPL) - $160 per share Amazon (AMZN) - $80 per share Google (GOOGL) - $500 per share Bitcoin (BTC) - $0.003 per coin

Three paise for a Bitcoin? Aritra nearly choked on air. Why was I wasting my time with physics when I could've been the next Satoshi Nakamoto?

But long-term investments weren't going to cut it. He needed quick money. Like, blink-and-you-miss-it quick.

"System," he whispered, "show me something faster. I want big gains, fast."

"Initiating High-Leverage Trading Protocol. Suggested leverage: 1:500 for forex, 1:100 for commodities."

Now we're talking.

Aritra dove into futures trading. The System displayed forex pairs, commodities, and indices with real-time data. He felt like a Wall Street prodigy in pajamas.

EUR/USD (Leverage 1:500) Gold Futures (Leverage 1:100) Oil Futures (Leverage 1:100)

He placed a few strategic trades based on the System's analysis. The screen flashed:

"Trade Executed. Potential Profit: $1,200 in 3 hours."

Just like that? Aritra grinned. I should've been a trader instead of a student.

Just as he was basking in his newfound financial wizardry, a familiar voice echoed from the kitchen.

"Aritra, dinner's ready!"

Ah, the timeless call of survival.

He minimized the System interface, took a deep breath, and joined his parents at the dining table. The modest meal of rice, daal, and potato fry felt like a royal feast compared to the mental gymnastics he'd just performed.

His mother eyed him suspiciously between bites.

"You look... different today. What's going on?"

"Just... physics," Aritra replied, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth to avoid elaborating.

His father nodded solemnly, clearly misinterpreting the situation.

"Ah, the stress of Class 12. I remember those days. Focus on your studies, son. Not on useless distractions."

If only you knew my 'distractions' might make me richer than Mukesh Ambani, Aritra thought, forcing a polite smile.

After dinner, back in his room, Aritra stared at the ceiling fan once again, a routine that had unexpectedly become his ritual. He reopened the System interface.

"Profit Realized: $1,350. Current Balance: $2,000."

In a few hours? His grin widened. At this rate, I'll need a bigger mattress to stuff all this money under.

His journey towards unimaginable wealth had officially begun.

This is just the start, he mused, grinning. Tomorrow, I'll wake up one step closer to being India's most unlikely teenage billionaire.

And with that thought, he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of candlestick charts and green profit bars, while the rest of Dakshin Barasat remained blissfully unaware of the legend quietly unfolding within its dusty lanes.