Reborn In 17th century India with Black Technology

26th July 1658

*Bham**Bham* *Bham*

The loud fireworks were set off in the stadium, catching the attention of the crowd as they arrived at their seats. Just a few minutes ago, many seats had been empty since there was a 30-minute break after all the preliminaries, quarterfinals, and semifinals.

Since the announcer had said the finals would start after the break, most of the audience didn’t want to leave their seats midway through the exciting competition. So, they quickly left the temporary stadium, took care of their needs, picked up some snacks on the way, and returned to their seats just in time for the event to start.

The European diplomats, who had been discussing the possibility of an Olympics, were also attracted by the fireworks being set off on the ground and those shooting up into the sky. Unfortunately, it was not fully night yet, so the sky shots did not look as dazzling as they would in the dark, but they looked amazing nonetheless since the sun had already begun to set at 3:00 PM.

A middle-aged man with a brown complexion and a hint of red on his face stepped forward with enthusiasm, raising his voice to address the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming back after a short break. Now, please stay tuned for the first final of the event."

"It’s none other than the thrilling foot race: the 100-meter and 500-meter sprints!"

"Whooooo!!"

"Lets goooo!’’

Hearing the announcement, everyone immediately jumped to their feet, waving their arms and shouting excitedly to one another.

The crowd’s roar was so loud that even the announcer, speaking at his highest volume, and the transliterators positioned every few rows within the stadium, could not be heard over the screaming.

Vijay, who felt the thunderous atmosphere and the adrenaline in the air, felt helpless as he found it troublesome to hold any events without a microphone and speakers, though, sadly, that would have to wait for at least a few more decades, even with the current progress of the Bharatiya Empire.

Fortunately, Vijay was the only one with such a concern, as everyone else around him, including the diplomats from Europe, didn’t see it as a problem.

---

"At last, it’s the finals. Let’s see if Jadeja can win!" Pedro Santiago leaned forward on his seat, eyes fixed on his favourite contender.

"Pfff!"

"Hey, Spaniard did the grape wine flud out your brain? It’s obviously Bhishma who will win. Have you not seen his speed in the previous match?" Pedro Santos Refuted .

A few more diplomats from different European kingdoms and empires joined the argument about who would be the favourite to win, but unfortunately, just like their national relations, none of them could come to a unified conclusion.

Each diplomat had their own favourite, and none of the five finalists were excluded from the chance to win the ultimate trophy in their eyes. This was because, during the previous matches, the diplomats were constantly surprised by the athletes. No matter who they picked as their player, there was always someone better, and the only athletes who never lost were the five finalists.

In this era, where millisecond-level times could not be measured, the difference in speed between the top five contestants might not even exist from the vantage point of the European diplomats and the crowd.

In such a situation the diplomat from Polish Lithuania suddenly had an idea.

"How about we place some bets?" Jan Kowalski suggested, pulling out a hefty stack of Varaha notes from his pocket.

"That’s a good idea Jan"

"I’ll bet 500 Varaha on Jadeja," Pedro Santiago chimed in immediately.

"I’ll bet 500 Varaha on Bhishma," Pedro Santos joined in.

"I’ll bet 2,000 Varaha on Raftaar," Simeon Brezhnev announced, surprising everyone with his high stake.

"Your Excellency Simeon, are you so confident in your pick?" Maximilian couldn’t help but ask, as 2,000 Varaha was no small sum, roughly worth 68 grams of gold, nearly half his yearly salary as a diplomat.

Simeon did not look flustered with all their curious gazes directed at him; instead, he straightened his back, as if to say he stood by his decision.

"Well, in that case, let me join in this fun too. I’ll place a 2000 Varaha bet on Mr. Vimal Kulkarni," Maximilian smiled as he took out a paper to write a letter of intent.

The rest of the diplomats looked at each other and decided to join the game too.

"500 Varaha on Raftaar."

"1500 Varaha on Vimal."

In such a way, all the diplomats from Europe placed their bets one by one, submitting their letters of intent to a neutral party among themselves. Interestingly enough, they weren’t the only ones placing bets on the events; in fact, many people in the crowd were also placing personal bets among themselves.

"150 Varaha on Bhishma," a shrewd merchant shouted out.

"215 Varaha on Devendra," a passionate, rich young lady said as she combed her hair in a chic fashion.

"122 Varaha on Raftaar," an old man exclaimed, feeling a hint of camaraderie as he looked at Raftaar.

"350 Varaha on Jadeja," a wealthy, plump aunt declared, gazing intently at Jadeja’s handsome face, sending a chill down the spines of the young men around her.

Gambling has been a deep-rooted part of human culture since the dawn of civilization, and it is likely to remain so until the end of civilization. So, Vijay, who immediately noticed the people of the empire participating in gambling on the sports event, had no intention of stopping it.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t, as imposing overly strict restrictions on gambling would only drive it underground, making it even harder to control. Hence, all he could do was regulate it rather than ban it.

Vijay immediately came up with an idea on the spot,

His plan was to provide a platform for gambling with restrictions on the amount that could be wagered, linking it to the gambler’s financial situation and applying higher penalties to illegal gambling. He also considered a 35% tax on income from gambling, balanced so as not to push people toward illegal gambling, while still discouraging excessive betting.

The tax would be substantial enough to minimize reckless gambling, as the potential benefits would remain appealing, but the losses from any mistake would be devastating.

As for why the regulations were still only in the planning phase and not yet implemented—well, the need hadn’t arisen until now, so Vijay decided to put them in place after the Aikyotsava festival ends.

---

"Ladies and gentlemen, make some noise for our five finalists in the 500-meter sprint event in the Men’s division!"

"I bet all of you know their names by now, but let me introduce them once again."

"Standing on the far right, wearing jersey number 23, hailing from the Punjab region of Bharat—the speedster, Jadeja!"

"Next to him is Vijayanagara’s own racehorse, wearing jersey number 7. Please put your hands together for Vimal Kulkarni!"

"In the middle lane, wearing jersey number 35, we have a speedster from the Uttar Pradesh region—Bhishma!"

"In the fourth lane, we have a dark horse from the far western Baluchistan region, wearing jersey number 009—a sensation in the country. Please put your hands together for Raftaar Langove!"

"Finally, in the first lane from the right, we have a boy from far southern Anuradhapuri, wearing jersey number 63. Please put your hands together for Devendra!"

All five contestants waved their arms towards the crowd in appreciation for their support. They were deeply thankful to the people of the capital for cheering them on.

This was especially true for Raftaar, who had travelled all the way from Baluchistan for the finals. He had never even dreamed of winning the district-level championship, and here he was, among the five fastest teenagers in the empire.

He had initially worried he might be disregarded for being a tribal Muslim. But he was pleasantly surprised to find that people here didn’t mind at all—as long as he didn’t try to persuade others to join his religion, in which case they would respond more strongly. Overall, Raftaar had nothing but good experiences when he came to the capital.

For the final, he thought he wouldn’t push himself too hard, aiming to maintain his strength for the much-important 100-metre Sprint. He felt that if he did push himself, he might get injured, as he was already feeling a numbing sensation in his feet from being overworked since morning.

This was his thought only 30 minutes ago, but something happened that changed his entire aura from one seeking longevity to one focused on speed above all else.

----

Jayamma had an uneasy expression as she made her way into the parliament grounds. She was still not used to the treatment she received due to her status, even after so many years. Growing up in poverty, she found it hard to relate to the high-class elites who acted so mighty in this society. Hence, she normally avoided mingling with her colleagues who called themselves the elites of society.

Still, she was a determined woman and wouldn’t avoid these interactions as long as they were beneficial to her goals.

Hence, even though she was not in her comfort zone, she bravely made her way through the VVIP entrance of the stadium. If she lacked anything, it would be professional management skills or financial skills, but bravery? huh!

It was not one of them; otherwise, she would have never started a company as a single mother at her age, being among the first batch of civilians to open their businesses, and by a woman no less. Adding on top of all that, making it a successful enterprise makes her achievement similar to a goalkeeper balancing the ball on the toenail in a tornado.

Naturally, her arrival at the stadium was also for business purposes, as she hoped to win an order from Mr Ganesh, the Chief Secretary of the Emperor’s office, for future events. She would love for her mango and lemon mixed pickle to be served with the foods hosted by the Emperor’s office in the future.

Even though Jayamma is currently the leader in the pickle market of Bharat, with annual sales of nearly 2 million pickle jars and an annual turnover of nearly 20 million Varaha, making her undoubtedly the richest self-made woman of the Bharatiya Empire, she still wasn’t satisfied.

She could feel that the market was becoming more competitive, and if she didn’t take action to increase her exposure, she feared her current advantage would soon disappear.

As a smart and business-savvy woman, she immediately came up with a countermeasure. She had turned her attention, which was previously on the quality of the pickle, to the exposure of the pickle. For this reason, she had repeatedly sponsored advertisements in the Bharatam Daily Newspaper and had become a frequent customer of the Raya Media Corporation.

Her move was a huge success, as there was an immediate 10% increase in pickle jar sales in the southern part of the Empire where the newspaper circulated. This further confirmed her intuition about the importance of exposure for her product.

Her push to send her pickle onto the plates of the guests of the royal family was also part of this effort to gain more exposure, as she was looking to start exporting her product overseas.

While entering through the tunnel, Jayamma did receive frequent greetings from other merchants who looked at her with all kinds of emotions ranging from jealousy, admiration, scrutiny, and disgust, but she had already gotten used to it.

Jayamma sat down in her seat and looked around the stadium, trying to find Mr. Ganesh, but to her disappointment, he was nowhere to be seen. So, sadly, even though she had no interest in sports, she had to watch it for a few hours straight.

Just then, someone caught her attention. It was an unusual brown boy who looked very different from everyone she had ever seen.

Her interest grew as she heard that this boy was from Baluchistan, was an orphan, and had come all the way to the capital after winning multiple tournaments.

Jayamma could empathize with him since her initial conditions were somewhat similar, but what made her more aware was that people seemed to attach more importance to this boy, Raftaar, because of his humble past and humble beginnings.

"Ahhh, Raftaar, let’s go, my boy!"

Jayamma felt her conjecture was becoming more and more correct as she continued to watch the game. She realized the people would get excited and call out the name of Raftaar whenever it was his chance to compete, and that was even true for the people around her, who usually remained silent and reserved due to their higher social standing.

There was something in Raftaar that made these social elites get up on their feet and scream for him.

A plan was brewing in Jayamma’s mind as she looked at Raftaar.

"Maybe this could work!" she thought to herself, with an excited expression on her face.

P.S. Changed from next year to 100 metres sprint