September 18th, 2004 — a date that would forever be etched in Dilli's destiny. The world slept unaware, but in a small room glowing under the pale blue light of a CRT monitor, a 10-year-old prodigy stared at the Bet365 screen with unwavering focus. His fingers trembled slightly as he keyed in the amount — ₹77,00,000 — on the West Indies, the underdogs facing the mighty South Africans. The odds mocked him: 1.8 for South Africa, 2.2 for West Indies. Every expert's analysis favored the Proteas. But Dilli trusted something far greater than statistics — his invaluable memorie and the silent guidance of Betal, his unseen companion.
The match began. South Africa batted first, steady as ever, stacking up 246/6. Commentators hailed it a defendable total. Most bettors began cashing out, fearing collapse — but not Dilli. His eyes gleamed like fire. "The tides haven't turned yet," he whispered to himself.
Then came the chase — a story of resilience and rhythm. The Caribbean flair shone bright that day. As West Indies crossed 200, Dilli's heartbeat quickened. With every boundary, he leaned closer to the screen, hands folded, whispering prayers. And when the scoreboard flashed 249/5 (48.5 overs) — West Indies won by 5 wickets! — a loud cheer erupted from the little room.
Dilli jumped from his chair, fists thumping the air, joy bursting out like fireworks. His Bet365 wallet now showed an unbelievable number — ₹1,69,40,000. He had done it. The youngest self-made crorepati in India — at just 10 years old.
He calmly withdrew ₹40,000 to his bank, now holding ₹4,36,000 there, while a staggering ₹1,69,00,000 sat untouched in his Bet365 account. Betal's voice echoed softly in the room, "The world will soon see what destiny has chosen you for."
Dilli smiled, eyes glistening with both disbelief and determination. This was no end — merely a milestone in his divine journey. For the boy who once had nothing, the universe had just handed him his first crown — Carotpathi Dilli, age 10.
That night, long after everyone had fallen asleep, Dilli sat alone in the soft blue glow of the monitor, staring at the numbers on the screen — ₹1,69,40,000.
For a long moment, he didn't even blink. His mind was still, but his heart roared inside his chest.
He had seen far greater numbers in his past life — handling his boss's accounts, balancing reserves worth crores, typing in digits that no longer made his pulse quicken. But this… this was different.
This wasn't someone else's empire.
This wasn't borrowed fortune.
This — every rupee of it — was his own creation, born out of courage, instinct, and sheer faith.
His lips trembled slightly as he whispered, "It's mine… my first crore."
A small tear rolled down his cheek, not of pride, but of quiet disbelief.
In his past life, at this same age, he remembered timidly asking his parents for five or ten rupees — coins that jingled like dreams beyond his reach. His father's tired hands would count notes carefully before giving him a few. His mother would smile, trying to hide their struggles. And now… he, their little boy, owned more money than even his father had ever seen at once.
He closed his eyes. His parents' faces appeared before him — his mother's gentle eyes, his father's calloused hands, and Shakti's innocent smile, the little girl who unknowingly anchored his heart.
A lump rose in his throat. The joy of his triumph melted into emotion so deep it hurt.
He clenched his fists, squeezing his knuckles until they whitened. His breath grew steady as he whispered to himself,
"No… this is just the beginning. I can't stop here. This isn't the goal — it's the first step."
Betal's voice rose within the room like a low, divine echo — proud yet warning:
"The world will tempt you to celebrate. But remember, Dilli — satisfaction is the first chain of mediocrity."
Dilli nodded silently, wiping away the lone tear. His excitement faded into focus, his joy into resolve. The boy who once begged for a few rupees now sat before an empire of his own making — yet his heart only whispered one thing:
"I will build more — not for greed, but for purpose… for them."
And in that small room, beneath the hum of the night, a 10-year-old Crorepati didn't celebrate his wealth — he planned his destiny.