The First Time I Opened the App
I didn’t do it right away.
For two days, I just saw the ad.
Billboards, stickers on the backs of buses, YouTube pre-rolls that didn’t let me skip.
4rabet.
India bets.
So can you.
It started to feel personal.
Like someone — or something — was talking directly to me.
I downloaded it on Sunday night.
Alone in my room.
Fan creaking above me.
Mosquito coil burning next to my bed.
The screen glowed blue in the dark.
It asked for my name, phone, and a password.
I typed everything slowly. Like I was lighting a diya.
Balance: ₹0.00
I transferred ₹100 from my UPI.
My hand shook a little.
I’d never gambled before.
But it didn’t feel like gambling.
It felt like revenge.
I didn’t pick a big game.
Just a local cricket match in Pune.
Something small.
Something meaningless.
Except it wasn’t meaningless to me.
It was mine.
I watched the live stats crawl like ants across the screen.
My heart beat faster than it should’ve.
When my team hit a six, I clenched my fist.
When the bowler took a wicket, I almost whispered "yes" out loud.
Match ended.
Payout: ₹172.
+₹72.
Not much.
But for me?
It was the first time something gave back.
No comments.
No mocking.
No girls laughing from cars.
Just numbers.
Result.
Win.
I stared at the screen for five full minutes after it ended.
Not because I was shocked.
Because I didn’t know what to do with the feeling.
I didn’t dance.
Didn’t screenshot.
Didn’t tweet.
I just breathed deeper than I had in weeks.
Isha hadn’t messaged.
She wouldn’t.
She probably forgot me already.
But that night,
as I closed the app,
I said to myself:
“Let her forget me now.
Let her remember me later.”
[to be continued...]
I didn’t do it right away.
For two days, I just saw the ad.
Billboards, stickers on the backs of buses, YouTube pre-rolls that didn’t let me skip.
4rabet.
India bets.
So can you.
It started to feel personal.
Like someone — or something — was talking directly to me.
I downloaded it on Sunday night.
Alone in my room.
Fan creaking above me.
Mosquito coil burning next to my bed.
The screen glowed blue in the dark.
It asked for my name, phone, and a password.
I typed everything slowly. Like I was lighting a diya.
Balance: ₹0.00
I transferred ₹100 from my UPI.
My hand shook a little.
I’d never gambled before.
But it didn’t feel like gambling.
It felt like revenge.
I didn’t pick a big game.
Just a local cricket match in Pune.
Something small.
Something meaningless.
Except it wasn’t meaningless to me.
It was mine.
I watched the live stats crawl like ants across the screen.
My heart beat faster than it should’ve.
When my team hit a six, I clenched my fist.
When the bowler took a wicket, I almost whispered "yes" out loud.
Match ended.
Payout: ₹172.
+₹72.
Not much.
But for me?
It was the first time something gave back.
No comments.
No mocking.
No girls laughing from cars.
Just numbers.
Result.
Win.
I stared at the screen for five full minutes after it ended.
Not because I was shocked.
Because I didn’t know what to do with the feeling.
I didn’t dance.
Didn’t screenshot.
Didn’t tweet.
I just breathed deeper than I had in weeks.
Isha hadn’t messaged.
She wouldn’t.
She probably forgot me already.
But that night,
as I closed the app,
I said to myself:
“Let her forget me now.
Let her remember me later.”
[to be continued...]
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