HERE, THERE & ELSEWHERE. Lottery mania

Two of the local lotteries have reached the high fever mark, both set to pay out over a billion dollars. Bins is so sure he’s going to win that he’s already fretting about the aftermath. “I will not tell ANYONE,” he says. “Otherwise all our friends will become our enemies, demanding houses, cars and round-the-world first class airline tickets.” I laugh at him. “Hah! You won’t have a choice! It’s compulsory to announce the winner's name in this state — but don’t worry! You won’t win.”

“Well, I will claim the money under a false name,” he says. “As soon as the result is announced, I will first open a bank account with the false name, THEN I’ll go to collect the cheque.” “If you’re so sure, you should open that bank account right away,” I tell him, “because it takes at least two weeks to create a false identity to take to the bank ...” “No,” he says. “That will be too tempting for the Fate Fairy.” Actually the Fate Fairy is MY name for the contrary spirit who guides the flow of chance in all our lives, but I don’t argue with him. “If the Fate Fairy sees that I am SO sure, she will feel the need to teach me a lesson. That’s the only way that I will not win.”

“Have you bought the ticket?” I ask him. “Not yet,” he says. “I will go in the evening, one hour before the drawing. That way, all the wrong results will have a chance to build up before mine comes along.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I thought you were a rationalist, Bins!” I say to him. “You’re talking now like someone practising black magic!”

“Not at all!” roars the man. “I have a hundred per cent scientific method of finding out the winning number!” He shows me several sheets of paper, each one covered in numbers. Some numbers are highlighted in pink, some yellow, some green. “First, I go to the website of Lottery Central,” he says, “and look up the whole year’s winning numbers. Then I analyse them: some numbers appear again and again. I make separate lists of those numbers. Then I make a frequency evaluation for each of the winning numbers — yellow is the lowest frequency and green is the most.”

“— but there must be more than five numbers that are the most frequent winners,” I say. “How do you make the final choice?” He gives me a mysterious look. “Hah! You will not get ALL my secrets,” he says. “But don’t worry. I’ll buy one ticket for you too. The only problem is, if YOU win, I will have to keep you tied up in the basement for the rest of your life! Or else you will tell the whole world and our life will be ruined.”

He goes off to buy the tickets. Watches the clock till it’s time to check results: no win. “Thank goodness!” he says. “I still have all my friends.”

Manjula Padmanabhan, author and artist, writes of her life in the fictional town of Elsewhere, US, in this weekly column

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