Today, the lottery results were announced, and I had a peculiar sense of anticipation in my stomach. I woke Abhi up early in the morning, the sun's first light just peeking through the curtains. "Where are we going?" Abhi asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.
With a grin, I pulled out the lottery ticket and showed it to him. "Here," I assured him, "I know we're going to win."
His eyes went wide, and he shot up in bed. "Bro, are you mad? You bought a lottery ticket?" His tone was a mix of anger and astonishment.
"Something like that," I said, my smile never wavering.
We headed out to the store, the cool morning air brushing against our faces. When we arrived, the owner was already posting the winning numbers.
As soon as Abhi saw them, he was about to scream, but I quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. "Shh, Abhi," I whispered.
His eyes grew even wider when he realized what had happened. "You're not serious, bro?" He mumbled in disbelief.
"Serious as the sun rising in the east," I said, unable to keep the excitement from my voice.
"But how? How did you know?" He was practically bouncing on his toes.
"It's a long story," I said, ruffling his hair. "But for now, let's just say it's a bit of luck and a lot of hard work."
"We're going to tell Mom, right?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Of course," I told him, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "But let's go home and get her first."
We made our way back, the weight of the news feeling heavier with every step. When we reached the apartment, I told Abhi to stay outside. "I'll get Mom," I said.
Inside, Mom was still in her nightgown, brewing a pot of tea. Her eyes widened when she saw me. "What's wrong?" She asked, setting the pot down with a clatter.
"Nothing's wrong," I said, holding out the ticket. "Everything's right."
"Jain, what's going on?" Mom's eyes flashed with irritation.
"Mom, I know this seems crazy, but I won something," I spoke calmly, holding out the lottery ticket.
"Won what?" She took the ticket from me, her gaze skeptical.
"10 lakh," I said, trying to keep the excitement in check. "It's a lot of money, and it can help us." "But first, let's get you dressed," I added, gesturing to her nightgown.
Abhi poked his head in, his eyes shining. "Yeah, we have to go to the lottery office," he chimed in.
Mom looked at the ticket, her expression unchanged. "What are you two playing at?" She demanded, her voice rising in annoyance. "Mom, please," I said, "just trust me for now."
Her eyes narrowed, and she took a deep breath. "Fine," she said, turning to her room. "Let me get dressed."
As she left, I turned to Abhi and whispered, "Let's not say anything more until she's had a chance to process it."
He nodded, his smile fading. We both knew that this was a moment that could change everything, and we needed to handle it carefully.
While we waited for Mom, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Winning the lottery was a stroke of luck that we hadn't earned, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was because of my wishes. Would this money bring us happiness, or would it come with a price?
The apartment was quiet, the only sounds being the rustle of fabric as Mom got dressed and the soft ticking of the clock. It felt like we were all holding our breaths, waiting for the world to either implode or take a turn for the better.
When she emerged, she was dressed in her best sari, her eyes still on the ticket. She looked at us, then back at the ticket, and back again. "Alright," she said finally. "Let's go."
Her voice was steady, but I could see the questions in her eyes. As we stepped out into the bustling streets of Delhi, the weight of our secret and the promise of a new future sat heavily on our shoulders.
We arrived at the lottery shop, and Mom was visibly nervous. She clutched the ticket tightly, her knuckles white. I knew she had to be wondering if this was some sort of scam.
I took a deep breath and led her to the board displaying the results. "Look, Mom," I said, pointing. "It's the same number."
Her eyes widened, and she checked the ticket again, then the board. She muttered something under her breath, a prayer perhaps. "He Vogoban," she whispered, her eyes filling with happy tears.
"It's really us," I assured her, taking her hand. "We won."
Her eyes searched my face, looking for any sign of deceit, but all she found was honesty. She hugged me tightly. "How did this happen?" She whispered into my chest.
I didn't know how to explain it, so I just said, "It's a miracle."
The owner of the shop clapped, and a small crowd gathered as we made our way to the counter. The cashier counted out the money, and after paying the taxes and giving a small amount to the clappers for their well wishes, we were left with around 70,0000 rupees. (Around 13000, USD in 2012)
Mom looked at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What do we do now?" She asked.
"It's Yours to choose," I told her. "But first buy a share."
As we walked home, the weight of the cash envelope in my hand felt surreal. When we reached the apartment, Mom looked at me, her eyes shining with a mix of excitement and trepidation.
"It's your money," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You won it. You should use it."
"No, Mom," I replied firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We won it. And the first thing we need to do is repay the debt."
Her eyes filled with tears, and she nodded. "You really have grown, Jain," she murmured.
The tension in the room eased a bit when Abhi spoke up, his voice full of innocence and childlike excitement. "Bro, can I buy a bicycle?"
Mom and I couldn't help but laugh. The absurdity of the situation made the air feel lighter. "Of course," I said, ruffling his hair. "You can buy whatever you want, but first things first."
"But only after we take care of the debt," Mom added, her voice still shaking with emotion.
We sat down at the kitchen table, the three of us, with the envelope of money between us. It was a moment of triumph, but it was also a moment of reality. We had to decide how to use this money wisely to ensure that our family's future was secure.
The sound of a teapot whistling in the kitchen reminded us that it was time for breakfast. We had a long day ahead of us, full of decisions and possibilities. But for now, we had each other, and that was enough.
"Oh right, Mom," I called out while helping her set the dinner table, "Tomorrow we have to go to the company to give them the signed contract."
Mom looked up from her cooking, a spoon in hand, a look of surprise on her face. "Already?" She replied, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.
"Yes," I nodded, "I already completed the paper."
"Okay," she said thoughtfully, "I've already told my workplace that I won't be coming in tomorrow. I'll go there with you."
"Thanks, Mom," I said, feeling a sense of relief. It was important to have her support in this new venture.
Just then, Abhi's voice echoed from his room. "Big Bro, play with me!" He was playing on his carrom, something that brought a smile to my face.
"Okay, okay, coming," I called back, setting aside the dishes.
When I entered his room, the familiar smell of old electronics and dust hit me, taking me back to a simpler time. Abhi looked up at me with a grin, his eyes alight with the excitement of competition. "You're just in time," he said, handing me a controller.
"Alright, let's do this," I said, sitting down beside him.
As we played, I couldn't help but feel a warmth in my chest. Despite the whirlwind of changes, some things remained the same—like the bond between brothers, unchanged by time or fortune.
"So, Abhi," I said, as we sat on the floor playing a board game, the sound of our pieces clicking against the cardboard, "you're meeting Ratika tomorrow, huh?"
He nodded shyly, his eyes glued to the game. "Yeah," he mumbled.
"And what's the matter?" I asked gently.
"I don't know what to do," he confessed, looking up at me with a hint of desperation in his eyes.
I felt a strange mix of pride and nervousness. Here I was, giving relationship advice to my little brother—a role reversal that seemed to have come out of nowhere.
"Master, you give him right advices," L voice whispered in my ear, a comforting presence amidst the uncertainty.
"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "First, you need to make sure you're both comfortable. Maybe take her somewhere nice, like a park or a café. And get her a small gift—something thoughtful."
"But what if she doesn't like it?" Abhi's voice was tinged with fear.
"It's the thought that counts," I reassured him.
"Here," I said, taking out a 500 rupee note ( Around 9.26 USD) from my wallet. "This is for the gift and anything else you might need tomorrow."
"But, Bro, I've got money," he protested, trying to give it back.
"It's not about the money," I said, placing it in his hand. "It's about making sure you're prepared to show her how much she means to you."
He thinks for some time, then takes the money.
"Thanks, Bro," Abhi said, hugging me tightly.
"So what gift should I buy?" Abhi asked again, his eyes lighting up with hope as he took the red piece.
"Why ask me?" I teased, placing the pieces back on the board.
"You're the one who knows her tastes, not me." Abhi fumbled again, the black piece landing on the board. "But I don't know," he whined.
I leaned back, considering his dilemma. "How about a bracelet?" I suggested casually.
"A bracelet, huh?" He rolled the idea around in his head, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Yeah, that's a good idea!"
I chuckled at his enthusiasm. "Just remember, it's not about the size of the gift," I said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's about the thought behind it."
"You're the best, Bro," he said, giving me a grateful look.
We continued playing, the sound of the pieces moving across the board punctuating the comfortable silence. The simple act of playing together brought back a flood of childhood memories, reinforcing the bond that had only grown stronger with time. It was moments like these that made me realize that despite the changes in our lives, some things remained constant—our love for each other, and our shared moments of joy.
--Next Day.
"Alright, Mom, let's go," I called out, zipping up my backpack and checking to make sure my laptop and data Pen drive was safely inside.
Mom looked up from her prayers, her eyes meeting mine with a hint of curiosity. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, we have that meeting," I reminded her, trying to keep my voice even.
"And what about Abhi?" She asked, her gaze shifting to where he was getting ready.
"He's meeting a friend," I said with a knowing smile.
Her eyebrows furrowed. "He didn't tell me anything," she murmured.
"Don't worry," I assured her, "I know where he's going."
We stepped out into the cool morning air, the sun just beginning to kiss the rooftops of Delhi. The streets were already bustling with life—autos honking, people chattering, and the occasional cow meandering through the traffic.
We headed for the bus stop. The bus was crowded, but we managed to squeeze in. As we made our way through the city, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and trepidation. This was it—our first step towards changing our futures.
Mom held the envelope tightly in her purse, her knuckles white. She had decided to use the money to pay off a small portion of our family's debt and invest in a better future for us all. It wasn't going to be an easy road, but we were in this together.
The bus lurched to a stop, and we stepped off. "Good luck with your friend," I said to Abhi with a wink.
"Thanks, Bro," he replied, his voice filled with hope as he went the other side of the road.
Mom and I walked to the company's office, a sense of unity and determination propelling us forward. The universe had given us a chance, and we weren't going to waste it.
The door to the office was a heavy, reinforced one, a stark contrast to the dilapidated building that housed it. As we stepped inside, the smell of old files and dust filled our nostrils. The walls were lined with certificates and awards, hinting at a successful business hidden behind the unassuming exterior.
The receptionist looked up from her desk, her eyes widening when she saw us. "You must be Jain," she said, her voice professional despite the surprise.
I nodded, and she led us into a conference room where Anushka and Runa were waiting. They both stood up, their expressions a mix of excitement and skepticism.
"Mrs. Sen," Anushka said, extending a hand to my mother. "Thank you for coming."
Mom took her hand, her own grip firm and sure. "Thank you for giving my son this opportunity."
They started to read the thesis.
The room fell silent for a moment before Runa spoke up. "Jain, we've read through your thesis," she said, her voice filled with admiration. "We're very impressed."
"Thank you," I said, trying to keep my cool.
Mom looked at me proudly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She had no idea about the true source of my knowledge, but she knew that something significant was happening.
"We've drawn up a contract," Anushka said, sliding a thick document across the table.
We read through the contract thoroughly, making sure to understand every clause and the implications of our partnership. Anushka and Runa were patient, explaining everything in a way that made Mom and me feel informed and respected. After a thorough discussion and a few minor changes, we all signed on the dotted line. They handed us a copy each, and we exchanged firm handshakes.
"Thank you," Anushka said, her eyes shining. "We have high hopes for this project."
I nodded solemnly. "As do we."
The room felt charged with potential, the air thick with the promise of success. We had taken the first step towards a brighter future, and I could feel the weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders. This was not just about the money or the fame; it was about making a difference in the world we lived in.
Mom looked at me, her grip on the contract tight, a hint of fear in her eyes. "What now?" She whispered.
"Now," I said with a smile, "Let's see."
The two of us left the office, stepping out into the bustling street. The sounds of the city seemed to echo our excitement, the honking of the autos and the chatter of the street vendors blending into a symphony of possibility.