Establishment of name

1960, CGM

Aka, now the ruler of CGM, had matured into a stern and calculated leader, in stark contrast to his father, Washi, who had been renowned for his philanthropy. Under Aka's rule, CGM experienced economic prosperity, yet wealth remained concentrated within the ruling family. The villagers endured abject poverty, struggling to make ends meet. CGM had transformed into a bustling metropolis under Aka's reign. Its streets were adorned with opulent cars, and skyscrapers loomed over the once-barren terrain. However, the chasm between the affluent and the destitute had widened. Aka's rule was characterized by extravagance for the privileged and exploitation of the masses. In Gurgaon, a young Vishwa Mitra Yadav embarked on an unwavering journey to fulfill the promise he had made to his dying mother. Following Shanti's demise, Vishwa, driven by an ardent desire to escape poverty and provide for his family, immersed himself in any work he could find. He toiled in menial jobs during the day, diligently saving every rupee he earned. Through sheer determination, he managed to accumulate enough funds to relocate to Bombay.

1982,

Rashmi: "But why did he decide to go to Bombay? Was there a particular reason?"

Jai: "Can you tell me which place is famously known as India's financial capital?"

Rashmi: "Certainly, Bombay, but..." (Jai interrupts)

Jai: Precisely." Rashmi: "Ah, I understand now. He sought to work less and earn more, correct?"

Jai: "No."

Rashmi: "Then what was his motive?"

Jai: "From the very outset of his life, he had endured the cruelty of those who denied him shelter, sustenance, and participation in activities that others took for granted. He recognized that amassing riches and power was easier when one held sway. Therefore, he set his sights on Bombay because it was a city of affluence and influence. He adhered to a common adage throughout history: 'Powerful people come from powerful places.' "

Rashmi leaned forward, her gaze locked onto Jai Prakash. "So, Vishwa Mitra Yadav ventured to Bombay in pursuit of power and opportunity," she mused. "But how does his tale intersect with CGM?"

Jai Prakash, his weathered countenance reflecting years of hardship, reclined in his creaky wooden chair. "You see, Rashmi, Vishwa's sojourn to Bombay is merely the inception—a minor fragment of a much grander puzzle. In CGM, as Jai continued, Aka's governance grew progressively oppressive with each passing year. While the ruling family reveled in their newfound affluence, the villagers endured unbearable hardships. Their homes and livelihoods had succumbed to the sprawl of skyscrapers and luxury apartments that now dominated the landscape. They were rendered voiceless and unrepresented, as if they were invisible within their own homeland. Yet, amidst this darkness, a spark of resistance began to flicker.

Rashmi leaned in, her pen poised to capture every word. "Resistance? In what form did it manifest?"

Jai's eyes glistened with a blend of reminiscence and determination. "A group of valiant individuals emerged from obscurity. They christened themselves the 'CGM Liberation Front.' Their mission was to unveil the corruption and exploitation perpetuated by Aka's rule and champion the rights of the downtrodden."

Rashmi scribbled zealously in her notebook, her heart quickening with excitement. "Tell me more about the CGM Liberation Front. Who were its members, and what challenges did they confront?"

Jai Prakash smiled. "The moment Aka caught wind of their existence, he obliterated fifty such groups as a dire warning. Following that, none dared to form a new faction and advocate for change. Everyone awaited a catalyst, yet no one dared to initiate the transformation. Therefore, I can only provide limited insight into their activities."

Rashmi's excitement waned with this revelation, and she implored Jai to continue the narrative.

In the story, 1960,

Vishwa arrived in Bombay and embarked on a quest to secure lodgings. In every slum he visited, he encountered hostility from a band of youngsters. He discerned that most youths his age in the slums were engaged in shoe polishing, working under a particular overseer who collected the proceeds of their labor. They received a meager portion of the earnings from their shoe-polishing toil. Vishwa contemplated following suit, and he approached the overseer, divulging his background.

The overseer grinned.

"So, you too wish to work. I shall provide you with the necessary supplies and designate your zone in Shetty's territory, near the shore. By the way, what is your name?"

"My name is Vishwa Mitra Yadav."

"What an imposing name! If you achieve great feats in Bombay, people will remember your short name too."

After this discourse, Vishwa slumbered in the same dilapidated structure where the meeting had taken place.

1982,

Rashmi, her pen gripped fervently in her hand, inquired, "Who is this Shetty?"

Jai, yawning, requested, "Before we proceed, kindly ask your assistant to fetch me some coffee."

Assistant, somewhat irked, retorted, "Hey, uncle, I'm bringing your coffee. Please don't begin the story until I return."

Jai, languidly, conceded, "Alright, alright, take your time."

The assistant promptly returned with the coffee. Jai appeared perplexed. "How did you manage to retrieve it in just a minute?"

Rashmi, composed, inquired, "May we continue now?"

Jai, while sipping his coffee, responded, "Hmm, Bombay was under the dominion of Shetty."

"Under the dominion of..."

"Bombay constituted the paramount hub for gold smugglers. Among them, Shetty reigned supreme. There was another individual, Abdul Aziz, hailing from Dubai. His vessels voyaged to India for the procurement of gold, yet Shetty adamantly thwarted his endeavors."

"So, essentially, Shetty was the foremost smuggler in Bombay."

"You could indeed say that."

1960,

Vishwa commenced his occupation as a shoe polisher, striving to eke out a modest living and finding respite in the same decrepit edifice where the meeting transpired. Each dawn, he awakened with a vision of ascending to unparalleled power and amassing untold riches. One evening, the leader of the shoe-polishing gang convened a gathering, attended by all the youthful laborers.

"Chief! An officer is apprehending our brethren employed in this guild,"

one exclaimed. "And eventually, he may arrive here and apprehend me for child labor violations."

"Yes."

"What can we do to counteract this threat? Should we eliminate him? Or perhaps someone else?"

Amidst the silence that ensued, Vishwa boldly raised his hand, capturing the attention of all present. The gang's leader was impressed. "(Smiles) Remarkable, we've discovered a man among the resolute."

That very night, as the officer exited the ward's residence, Vishwa and the other youngsters lay in ambush.

"Vishwa, do not slay him," one of his comrades cautioned.

"Our leader was jesting. Put the bottle down."

Vishwa, however, surged toward the officer, smashing the bottle into the man's skull. Upon witnessing the assault, additional officers approached, but the assailants swiftly fled the scene. In his despair, Vishwa halted. "He does not even know my name."

"No, do not depart," one urged.

Returning to the officer, Vishwa discovered him seated in the street, his head grievously injured and blood profusely flowing. "You are to detain that child and convey him to me!"

"I am no child," Vishwa retorted with vehemence. "(Shouts in anger) I am 'Vazeer'!" He proceeded to dispatch the officer, delivering a final, lethal blow to the man's head. Subsequently, he was apprehended by other officers and incarcerated.