One day when you wake up, you see a suitcase standing on the table beside your bed, and on its side something written, "2 million dollars. As you wished!" You have been praying for something like this for many years but thought it was absurd. This is not how the world works.
You live alone. You look at the door. It's closed. The lock is just as you secured it yesterday. You pick up the suitcase and toss it on the bed and open it. There, in fact, is money— notes— bundles of it. You start counting. It's two million dollars.
But this must have come with certain terms and conditions, you worry. You've never been that much of a God-supporting person. On the spectrum, you fall closer to the opposing crowd. So, why you? When there are devotees and people who always pray and offer flowers? It's a mistake and something bad will happen to compensate. Anyway, you decide on 1.5 million dollars for backup. You are keeping it safe. Safe for what? You don't know. Then you think it's too much. A million instead. The rest of it, you are going to spend wisely.
You are not one of those brainwashed who think money solves all the problems. Instead, you're drunk on this idea. Little moments and good relationships count more in life. If you are poor and someone loves you, they love you for you. Being rich, you don't know who to trust. Bad things are inevitable for both rich and the poor. With money it's just a few days of happiness that only lasts during the transitional phase, and when it’s over, life will again start to feel boring. And people will hate you like in the movies.
You have a job. It pays tiny. But you keep it, because you haven't quite figured out what you want to do in your free time. You have had free time in the past, and all you did was sleep and later feel guilty about it. You still hate when you have to stand in the crowded bus and the push and pull of sweaty people. But soon, you realize this fact. They are just trying to earn money, be happy and safe. Something which you can easily achieve now. That slow person in your job who always makes you wait, you realize he is trying. This money gives you some sort of elite vision. You understand the livelihood of people with patience, how this is all but a big play, and how they are doing their part to live a normal life. You no longer hate anyone that much and get annoyed. And in return, you are happy. You can easily choose to not be like them, you have an instant switch in your pocket, but you like this lifestyle. There is grace in this daily struggle. There is humanity and hope. And it's all you've ever known. This way of life is where you came from. This is who you are.
Sometimes you wonder if you're afraid of living a rich lifestyle because you already are institutionalized. Like the character Red, played by Morgan Freeman, says in your favorite movie, The Shawshank Redemption, after reading the suicide note of Brooks Halten. Although you cannot time travel, you adopt this recipe of happiness from the protagonist of this beautiful movie (About Time) you watched recently. You try to live every moment of your life to the fullest, as if you willingly came back to it from the future, to observe the dance and the beauty of the present moment.
You do spend that money—mostly on food. (-$400 per month) Delicious and healthy. You fix your teeth. (-$800) And you start to look healthy. You decide to buy a bike and ride it to work. (-$2,000) The most you've used till now. This is it, you think. I shouldn't have wasted this much. This is how I am going to be punished. This was a test. Now I am going to die in a bike accident. You do face an accident. It nearly kills you. You break your wrist and your head is hit. (-$6,000) You decide to never spend that much again.
You can't ride your bike for some months. Back to taking the bus. One day you see a girl at the bus stop and decide to talk to her. Money has given you the confidence which was previously illegal to possess. She likes the same movies as you. You embarrassingly ask her out. She says yes. You wonder if she knows you're rich. Because you're ugly, and you do believe you have a great personality but that never helped you. Until now. Suddenly. You decide to not think about it. You now know what you want to be: a musician, a painter, an animator, and a writer. You think about leaving your job, but that way you can't meet daily with this girl. You have heard the pale blue dot speech by the physicist Carl Sagan, so you know how vast the Universe is, and thus form a conclusion, that nothing materialistic matters, in the grand scheme of cosmos. No matter how great a musician, or how great a writer you become. The happiest you've ever been in your life is at present, talking to this girl. It takes about two months to learn to hold your feelings so that you can leave your job. You think about a piano. But that's a lot of money. You still have your previous scars. Guitar instead. (-$300) Also, you start writing.
Time passes. You love this girl so much, and she loves you too. You've shown her you're rich and maybe that helped, but you don't care. You are happy. (-$1000) You go out to eat frequently, and one day she says she can't always share the bill. She opens up about being poor, but not like that though. Just like you in the past. All the money she has got has a predetermined path already, and changing that may bring bigger problems to her. You understand and become pleased that she is opening up. You show your vulnerabilities and she shows sympathy and understanding, and she shows hers and you understand.
You think of moving to a better place, where it rains more and is sunnier. She agrees. (-$1500)
You self-publish your book and advertise it with a good budget. It sells great. (-$8000) People love it. You make around 50k dollars from the sale. More than you ever spent from that 2 million dollars. Inflation included. You buy a piano. (-$15,000) A powerful computer—you start gaming. (-$6,000) Three years have passed, and you have gone on so many vacations with your girl. (-$25,000) You realize you're picking from the pile again.
Some years pass, and you are 29. You ask her to marry you. She agrees. You ask yourself the same question you've been asking all these years. How did I become so lucky? Though I deserve everything I have because I am a good man, how can the Universe be so caring towards me? Why is nothing going wrong? It was supposed to. Maybe this happiness is to compensate for the misery I am about to face. Maybe my parents will die soon. Maybe my wife will die in childbirth, or maybe she will die, just die of some bizarre disease, or in an accident. Maybe my children will.
You celebrate your first anniversary, and you both talk about having a baby. You tell her you are afraid, and she tells you she is afraid too. After about a year, you are sitting on a cold steel chair at the hospital, and inside the room is your wife. You notice how you are having the same questions as the protagonist of this book you read recently. A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway. The money you spent on this new house was too much; it wasn't that much needed also. (- $200,000) Although you earned like half of that, it's still too much. What if she dies? What if Gods notice the mistake and they decide to punish me? The doctor comes outside to the passage and states that your wife is okay. But the child is dead. It's better than the dead wife, you think. What if it's a sign that she must not be pregnant again? She becomes pregnant again, and you are once again sitting on a cold bench with thoughts in your mind. The money you spent on that luxurious car was too much; a small car would've been great too. (-$300,000) You become the father of a boy.
Soon your wife is pregnant again. Now this is it, you think. My boy is just two years old and God thinks it's a perfect time to punish me. Another son. You and your wife decide to stop. Your boys grow. They go to school. Everything is perfect. The school is a little far from where you live. They need to go on a bus. So the bus is it, you think. It will compensate for this money. But that never happens. The boys grow into teenagers. You write many books. They sell great. (-$150,000) (+$2,000,000) The music doesn't do much, but it's okay. You like it.
Your children move out and think about getting married. You and your wife have retired. You've gone on like 100 vacations, and now you're tired. (-$500,000) But nothing ever goes wrong. What's the problem? Why did I become so lucky? You are old now and can't walk properly. Your wife is dead already. She was 89. You are 90. The money is recovered. You think about packing 2 million dollars in a suitcase and placing it secretly inside a room of some young person. Maybe you also got it this way. You decide not to do that. It's too much work. Instead, you gave it all to your childrens. And then, you die. Never knowing the reason behind your luck. A strange life, don't you think? Nothing ever went wrong. Such a fake one. Nothing like this ever happens in real life.
