The Game That Made Me Cry Was Not the One I Played

I used to think winning was a algorithm.

Every night, I’d open the app—just 20 minutes, Rs.10 card, no more. The system promised me joy through random chance. But joy isn’t earned—it’s rented. Each number you mark? A flicker of control you never had.

I stopped believing in ‘Thunder Bingo’ as destiny.

It wasn’t Zeus throwing gold. It was me—tired, alone, staring at a screen after work—choosing a pattern because it felt true.

The real prize wasn’t Rs.12,000.

It was the hour after midnight when I didn’t play anymore—and felt something whole for the first time.

They sell ‘limited-edition’ experiences like sacred relics.

But your soul doesn’t need more cards.

It needs space to doubt.

I joined a Discord community once—saw someone screenshot their win, crying while smiling. They called it ‘divine luck.’

I whispered back: ‘You didn’t lose control… you were never really in charge.’

And that’s when I knew: The game didn’t make me rich. It made me human.