You lean forward, your heart racing with excitement. "The climax is where all the threads come together," you say. "Ekyam must face the mastermind behind the Great Flash, a being so powerful and twisted that it challenges everything he believes in. It's a battle not just of strength, but of wills. The fate of the world hangs in the balance, and Ekyam must channel all his power to save the world he's come to call home."
Ranjit's gaze sharpens, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "And what does this ultimate threat represent?"
You furrow your brow, thinking of the cosmic horror lurking in the shadows of your story. "The ultimate threat is the embodiment of greed and manipulation," you reply. "It's a being that sought to harness the power of the Great Flash for its own purposes, to remake the world in its image. It represents the darkness that lurks within us all, the potential for destruction that lies dormant until it's awakened by ambition or fear."
Ranjit nods, his expression growing more serious. "And does Ekyam triumph in the end?"
You bite your lip, contemplating the outcome you've crafted. "That's for later. But the battle is brutal and takes a toll on Ekyam, both physically and emotionally. It forces him to confront the reality that true heroes often don't get the recognition they deserve, and that sometimes the right path isn't the easy one."
Ranjit's eyes are piercing, as if searching for the hidden depths within your story. "But he does save the world, doesn't he?"
You nod, your throat tightening with emotion. "Yes, but it comes at a cost," you say. "The battle with the ultimate threat changes Ekyam. It's a pyrrhic victory, one that leaves him questioning his place in the world he's saved."
Ranjit leans back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Ah, the burden of the hero," he murmurs. "It adds depth to the character. But, Naveen," he says, his gaze intense, "can you give me a taste of this epic battle you speak of? Describe the setting, the tension in the air, the moment before the final confrontation."
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to visualize the scene. "The final battle unfolds in the heart of the city," you begin, your voice painting a picture. "The sky is a tumultuous mix of fiery oranges and bruised purples, the aftermath of a fierce storm brought by the Great Flash. The buildings around are a maze of steel and glass, shattered and twisted by the monsters' wrath. In the center, a colossal crater, a scar left by the ultimate threat's arrival." You open your eyes, looking at Ranjit. "Ekyam stands on the edge of this abyss, the wind howling around him, his eyes gleaming with a fierce light. The city's survivors watch from a safe distance, their hopes resting on his shoulders."
"And that's how the story will end. So now, can we talk about whether you'll make a movie on it or not, sir?" You say to Ranjit.
Ranjit steeples his fingers and looks at you, his expression inscrutable. "Your story, Naveen, is indeed epic," he says, his voice measured. "But translating it to the screen requires careful consideration." He stands up and walks over to the window, the bustle of the film city outside a stark contrast to the stillness within the office. "We're looking at a significant investment here. We need to be sure that the audience will connect with your characters, your world."
He turns to face you, his gaze piercing. "I need to know, Naveen, do you believe in your story? Are you willing to stand by it through the challenges of production, the criticism, the endless rewrites?"
You stand up as well, feeling a sense of determination rising within you. "More than anything, sir. I've poured my soul into 'Tri-Ekyam: The One Third'. It's not just a story to me; it's a reflection of the world we live in, the struggles we face, and the hope that we can overcome."
Ranjit nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I can see that," he says. "Your passion is palpable." He walks back to his desk and sits down, his hands steepled in front of him. "But passion alone isn't enough to make a movie. We need a solid script, a clear vision, and a team that can bring that vision to life."
You swallow, feeling the weight of his words. "I understand," you say. "I'm willing to work with whatever team you assemble, to refine the story, to make it the best it can be for the screen."
Ranjit's expression softens a bit. "Good," he says. "Because if we decide to go ahead with this, it'll be a long and arduous journey." He opens a drawer and pulls out a contract. "But before we get to that, there are a few things we need to discuss. The rights to your story, the potential cast, the budget, and the timeline."
You feel a mix of excitement and trepidation as you sit back down. The reality of what you've been discussing is finally sinking in. This could be it, the moment your novel becomes a part of cinematic history. You nod, eager to get started.
Ranjit slides the contract across the desk towards you. "Take a look at this," he says, tapping the document. "It's the standard agreement for adaptations. We'll need to work out the specifics, but it outlines the terms of the deal. The rights to 'Tri-Ekyam: The One Third' would belong to us for film and potential sequel adaptations, with you receiving credit as the original creator and a share of the profits."
You pick up the contract, your hands trembling slightly as you skim the pages. The legal jargon is intimidating, but the potential rewards are too tempting to ignore. You look up at Ranjit, searching for any signs of deceit or hidden agendas, but all you see is a man who seems genuinely invested in your work. "Jai Bajrangbali! I'll dot it," you murmur and sign the contract.