Posts Tagged ‘Arab’

Who is Luckier?

April 16, 2009

The counterfoil of the raffle draw ticket was beginning to deteriorate at the corners because of the incessant and purposeless rolling and unrolling it was being subjected to. He had to be killing time somehow.

The place was brimming with glamour. Men holding see-through glasses with golden and transparent fluids swirling within and crystal-clear ice cubes floating on the top. Women with bare backs smeared with shimmery make-up and aristocratic poise seemed to possess some kind of an incantation – It was difficult not to develop aroused admiration for them. All of them were facing the same way, towards the stage in front of them.

An Arab with a protruding belly was on the stage. He was dressed in the most crisply ironed kandora, the long Arabian dressing for men. It was of the most clearest shade of white. And, the way that there wasn’t even the slightest trace a wrinkle on his kandora seemed almost magical as opposed to the ten minute survival rate of ironing on shirts elsewhere in the world. He was wearing so much perfume that a whiff of air surrounding him would give a momentary high. He picked up a ticket from the raffle box.

Tense seconds gripped one and all present in that hall – Everyone wants to be the winner but no one knows who is going to be in the end.

The Arab grabbed hold of a microphone and tapped on it twice before speaking. The sound of his taps reverberated through the hall. Satisfied with the proper functioning of the microphone, he spoke into it, “Wa Rakam’il faiz howa– Arba Arba Sifar Wahed Tissa Khamsa” – And the winning number is 446195.

The man with the deteriorating ticket knew it, but he had to look at it at least once. So he unrolled the ticket and looked at the number printed on its top-right corner. The number was 446195. He was the only person in the hall who knew who was going to win.

He mumbled to himself, “And Mr. Charles Gray wins one more Audi A5.”

He lazily put his hand up and waved the ticket to show it to the announcer. When his surveying eyes caught the sight of a hand sticking out in the air, he bellowed, “wea al shakhs al faiz howa” – And we have a winner here.

All the heads turned towards Charles. He made his way through the applauding crowd, climbed up a few steps and went onto the stage which had the music blaring through the speakers and a flurry of confetti pouring from above. He announced his name in the microphone, shook hands with the announcer and the chief guest, accepted the keys to the Audi he had won and came down. It was just another routine that he had followed.

By the time he was driving the Audi home, he had a very beautiful, cheerful and dignified girl sitting beside him.

The next morning, after all the humor and the flattery and the dancing and the love-making through the night, the girl whispered in his ear, “I love you, Charles!”

The difference between that moment and the moment when he had just twenty dollars left in his bank account, was that one of his wishes had come true.

When his car had broken down, there was no electricity in his apartment and he had just twenty dollars to survive on for the rest of the month, he fell to his knees and pleaded, “God, please! Please make me the luckiest man.”

From that moment on he was the luckiest man.

He was the luckiest even in the matters of failing body parts. He had already successfully received a heart transplant and he knew that even a third heart would work for him if the second started failing.

All his friends were ready to do anything he wanted them to do, his coffee was always served just the way he wanted and he had seen the world. Everything was perfect. He always mulled over the thought, “I have no problems at all.”

Little did Olivia know that she would find John sprawled on the floor of his room with remnants of streams of froth on the sides of his mouth.

Olivia was john’s maid. She was the most trustworthy old lady and that is why she was the only person who had the extra key to his room to carry out its cleaning.

On his forty fifth birthday, when Olivia unlocked the door to his room, she found Charles dead on the floor with an empty bottle of poison and an envelope lying by his side.

With trembling hands, she opened the envelope and read the letter inside:

“MY NAME IS CHARLES GRAY.

I AM THE LUCKIEST MAN.

I HOLD NO ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY DEATH.

I AM ENDING MY LIFE BECAUSE I HAVE NO LIFE.

I HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO DO.

THERE IS NO LIFE WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE ANY PROBLEMS TO TACKLE.

LUCKY ARE THOSE WHO GET THE OPPURTUNITY TO TACKLE PROBLEMS AND OVERCOME THEM.

DIFFICULT TIMES ADD THE ‘SPICE’ TO LIFE.”

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