The name

Luck favors the brave.

Anjaan knew he could change people's fates. He had the license for it. The license called a lottery ticket.

It was a thursday. The Sai baba's day. He knew he would definitely change some lives today.

Anjaan lived in a slum in mumbai. Like millions of others, he had dreams of someday buying a 'chawl' of his own. He wanted to make a name for himself. His name though, was quiet ironical.

He left home early. The traffic signal was a good couple of hours walk from his house. He had the money for the local train ticket but, he thought he'd rather use it for a 'wada-pav' indulgence. After all it was a thursday.

The first two BIG cars proved a bit unlucky. The millionaire sitting inside the car preferred the jarring FM music to anjaan's lame 'lakhs of ruppees, in just one ticket' sales pitch. The next one was black in color. Anjaan didnt even try. He was waiting for an orange one to arrive. It did.

The color orange was Sai baba's. Anjaan knew it would work. He didnt want to use his 'guerilla marketing' weapon on it. It was a brave call. His heart, beat rapidly, as his fingers knocked on the glass window. No response. Yet again. The car went past. Anjaan waited. Again.

This time he had no choice but to use the 'guerilla marketing' weapon. He tried on the next car. Again, in vain. That's when he decided to walk away, letting the lottery ticket slip through his hand. Just taking a couple of steps away from the car, he looked for the ticket. Anjaan saw the man sitting in the car from the corner of his eye. Anjaan knew that he was being watched.

He almost ran back towards the car. It was time to unveil the best aspect of the marketing gimmick. Anjaan acted as if all this was an accident. That the ticket fell, where it belonged. The man behind the glass window was amazed. He immediately rolled down the toughened glass window and shed a twenty buck bill, without any second thoughts.

The grin on Anjaan's face was as sunny as his orange shirt. Anjaan, thanked Sai baba. He immediately, mentally allowed himself the luxury of the local train.

He made another mental note. The 'guerilla marketing' weapon shall not be used. Unless the circumstances became unavoidable.

The next day was a Friday. The 'jumma'. His green shirt needed a wash, he thought to himself.