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When I challenged my dream...
#WritcoStoryPrompt3
I read it once, then twice. I wasn't imagining it - I had won the lottery!
Then pop! I was sure not imagining. I was, in fact, dreaming.
'Haha!' I laughed as i pulled myself out of bed. From attending nature's call to brushing teeth, from flipping omelettes to gulping down the last night's cheap beer, the morning smile did not leave my lips even for once!
Life is about dreams. Some stay behind eyes , some take shape in real life. Either way, they are meant to make you feel alive.
I donned my construction worker's outfit along with its yellow hard helmet and gave myself All O.K. salute in the mirror.
On the way to work, however, I did stop by a small shop and bought a lottery ticket.
'It'll be interesting to challenge this morning dream.' I thought to myself staring at those randomly ordered numbers. They seem to be forming a storyline. The saga of my victory, maybe?
I pocketed the ticket and went off to work.
'Hey, Suhail! Can I borrow 50 rupees?' Amal asked when I arrived at the site. The building was half done.
Little did I know that along with that crumpled tea-stained rupee note I was also handing over my probable fate.
'A lottery ticket? Aha!' Amal exclaimed.
'That's mine!' I almost shouted but for a guy like Amal, who was, in real sense, a gold digger, it was an opportunity worth risking our friendship.
The whole day I spent regretting lending Amal my fate along with 50 bucks.
'Motherfucker!' I cussed for more number of times than I could remember.
It was five of the evening. All the workers had gathered for the routine - tea time and gossip. Today, however, the story was different. All eyes were fixed on the little LCD screen perched high up on the ceiling.
'Hey, lottery show!' Someone claimed pointing at the TV. 'Amal! You have a ticket, right? Let's match.' The guy with the rotund belly and ridiculously long beard demanded.
I cussed again looking at Amal who was grinning, with hope shining bright in eyes as if it was a nude lady waiting for him on a bed.
'Pussy!' I cursed and grunted. I sat on a different table today, alone and sad. It was still hot. I procured my handkerchief, the one I had been using it since three days, from the pocket. While swiping my forehead, I noticed, from the corner of my eyes, that something fell on the floor. I bent down. It was a ticket, a lottey ticket to be precise.
'But I had bought only one?' I murmured picking the piece of paper.
Just then the host, a sophisticated middle-aged man, on TV began rolling numbers.
After about five minutes, I felt blood draining my body, as if life was slipping away in opera-style slow singing and I was floating in air.
Amal and other workers were staring at his ticket. He had missed the jackpot by one number.
I looked down at my ticket. I read it once, then twice. I wasn't imagining it - I, for the love of God, had won the lottery!
As it happened that the shopkeeper had slipped two tickets, in the same serial number, to me. By mistake and for the price of one, of course.
Amal and I had same numbers except the last one. The one he missed had helped me win it. My ticket had the jackpot winning number - 8.
'Haha!' I laughed in my head. A deja vu.
The day had begun with a ridiculous dream and it had ended with it turning into a stunning reality.
I did not shout neither did I yell burdened with the overdose of victory nor did I tease Amal. Instead, I stayed quiet and finished my tea that had gone insipid when I was sulking inside.
Walking back home, I was smiling. A jackpot of twenty five lakhs in exchange of 50 rupees. 'Not bad', I whispered and tucked the ticket safely into my pocket.
© Priyanka Baranwal
I read it once, then twice. I wasn't imagining it - I had won the lottery!
Then pop! I was sure not imagining. I was, in fact, dreaming.
'Haha!' I laughed as i pulled myself out of bed. From attending nature's call to brushing teeth, from flipping omelettes to gulping down the last night's cheap beer, the morning smile did not leave my lips even for once!
Life is about dreams. Some stay behind eyes , some take shape in real life. Either way, they are meant to make you feel alive.
I donned my construction worker's outfit along with its yellow hard helmet and gave myself All O.K. salute in the mirror.
On the way to work, however, I did stop by a small shop and bought a lottery ticket.
'It'll be interesting to challenge this morning dream.' I thought to myself staring at those randomly ordered numbers. They seem to be forming a storyline. The saga of my victory, maybe?
I pocketed the ticket and went off to work.
'Hey, Suhail! Can I borrow 50 rupees?' Amal asked when I arrived at the site. The building was half done.
Little did I know that along with that crumpled tea-stained rupee note I was also handing over my probable fate.
'A lottery ticket? Aha!' Amal exclaimed.
'That's mine!' I almost shouted but for a guy like Amal, who was, in real sense, a gold digger, it was an opportunity worth risking our friendship.
The whole day I spent regretting lending Amal my fate along with 50 bucks.
'Motherfucker!' I cussed for more number of times than I could remember.
It was five of the evening. All the workers had gathered for the routine - tea time and gossip. Today, however, the story was different. All eyes were fixed on the little LCD screen perched high up on the ceiling.
'Hey, lottery show!' Someone claimed pointing at the TV. 'Amal! You have a ticket, right? Let's match.' The guy with the rotund belly and ridiculously long beard demanded.
I cussed again looking at Amal who was grinning, with hope shining bright in eyes as if it was a nude lady waiting for him on a bed.
'Pussy!' I cursed and grunted. I sat on a different table today, alone and sad. It was still hot. I procured my handkerchief, the one I had been using it since three days, from the pocket. While swiping my forehead, I noticed, from the corner of my eyes, that something fell on the floor. I bent down. It was a ticket, a lottey ticket to be precise.
'But I had bought only one?' I murmured picking the piece of paper.
Just then the host, a sophisticated middle-aged man, on TV began rolling numbers.
After about five minutes, I felt blood draining my body, as if life was slipping away in opera-style slow singing and I was floating in air.
Amal and other workers were staring at his ticket. He had missed the jackpot by one number.
I looked down at my ticket. I read it once, then twice. I wasn't imagining it - I, for the love of God, had won the lottery!
As it happened that the shopkeeper had slipped two tickets, in the same serial number, to me. By mistake and for the price of one, of course.
Amal and I had same numbers except the last one. The one he missed had helped me win it. My ticket had the jackpot winning number - 8.
'Haha!' I laughed in my head. A deja vu.
The day had begun with a ridiculous dream and it had ended with it turning into a stunning reality.
I did not shout neither did I yell burdened with the overdose of victory nor did I tease Amal. Instead, I stayed quiet and finished my tea that had gone insipid when I was sulking inside.
Walking back home, I was smiling. A jackpot of twenty five lakhs in exchange of 50 rupees. 'Not bad', I whispered and tucked the ticket safely into my pocket.
© Priyanka Baranwal
