A lottery win

 I’ve Been Receiving Signs Lately That I’m Going to Win the Lottery

No, I’m not going to share what the signs are—at least not yet. Let’s just say the universe has been whispering, and I’ve been listening carefully. Some might call it wishful thinking; I prefer to call it quiet hope.

When I win (and yes, I’m confident it’s coming), I won’t make a fuss. No big social media posts, no flashing cheques. Only my immediate family will know—and even then, only the essentials. No need to invite the circus of curious distant relatives with sudden business ideas.

I’ve spent many of my daily walks planning this next chapter. You thought I was just getting exercise? I’ve been in serious conversations with myself—thinking, dreaming, deciding. The plan is set. All that remains is the win itself .

There won’t be flashy cars or globe-trotting adventures. That’s just not me. But you might notice subtle changes: perhaps a diamond stud in one ear, or a ponytail. Maybe some soft linen clothes, the kind that catch the breeze just right—somewhere between poet and retired band manager.

Maybe I’ll enjoy long walks, slow brunches, and conversations with people who really listen. I might even get a little fitter—both in body and mind. More stretching, more thinking, and less rushing.

Good company and close friends will still be my greatest treasures—sharing laughs, stories, and comfortable silences.

You’ll still find me writing. Always writing. After all, education has been my life—from teaching days in Allahabad, to years at Bishop’s in Pune, and now here in Dubai. I’ve shared laughter, debates, and discoveries with countless students and colleagues. Money can buy many things, but not the joy of a classroom smile or a shared story.

I won’t change completely. I’ll still meet childhood friends from Allahabad, sit with them over drinks, and tease each other like old times. Some things are too precious to be touched by wealth.

There will be small comforts: a quiet reading nook with a view, maybe a couple of Beatles vinyl records. Time to read, write, and play music without checking the clock. Time to sit quietly with a glass of fine cognac or wine, no agenda, just peace. Not a Tuscan villa, but a modest balcony, a cozy chair, and my cat Chanel curled up nearby, with a gentle breeze that asks no questions.

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on...”

—And quietly, without fuss or fanfare, I’ll let the dream unfold.