‘Very few people come to the library nowadays and no one reads such a book. It was last borrowed by someone in 1980,’ the aged librarian gave him the book.
‘That was my elder brother.’ He said and began riffling through the pages of book.
A piece of paper lying in the book attracted his attention. He picked it up, almost casually. He looked at the paper and was stunned.
He had saved every penny that he could save; and, to be honest, he had even pilfered a few pennies from her mother’s purse. He wanted to buy a lottery ticket.
He had won a prize of one hundred thousand. But he was scared to tell anyone about it; not even his elder brother with whom he had shared every secret. His brother, who was eight years senior to him, suspected that he was up to some mischief.
‘Why would I be hiding anything,’ his face was taut. Lotteries were a taboo in the family.
But he had the bad habit of forgetting things; he forgot where he had hidden the lottery ticket. He had desperately searched every conceivable place but his dreams lay tattered. He could not find it.
He found it, almost forty years, later in a book that his brother had borrowed from the library.