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It all started because of the rain. A proper Mumbai downpour that turned the streets into rivers and my tiny apartment into a damp, grey cage. I was supposed to be at a client meeting, but it got cancelled last minute. There I was, in my half-unbuttoned work shirt, with nothing but a silent, empty evening stretching ahead. Boredom is a dangerous thing. It makes you click on things you normally wouldn’t. That’s how I found myself, almost without thinking, typing a web address a colleague had jokingly mentioned weeks ago. It was one of those sites, you know the kind. I’d never been interested. But the rain was drumming a rhythm that said, ‘Why not?’

The first thing that caught my eye, honestly, wasn't the slots or the card games. It was the sports section, and specifically, the sky247 live cricket feed. There was a T20 match on, some league I only vaguely followed. The interface was slick. You could see the odds shifting in real-time with every ball. I’m not a big better, but I love cricket. I thought, alright, let’s make this interesting. I deposited a thousand rupees – the minimum – just to have some skin in the game. I put a tiny, fifty-rupee bet on the team batting first to hit a six in the next over. They did. Just like that, my balance went up. It was a silly little thrill, but it hooked me.

For the next hour, I was glued to the sky247 live cricket window. I wasn't thinking about money; I was just engaged. It felt like being in a virtual pub with a bunch of stats-obsessed friends. I’d yell at the screen when a bowler delivered a wide, cheer when my micro-bet came through. I lost a few, won a few more. My thousand rupees had slowly grown to about fifteen hundred. Then came the moment of madness. The chasing team needed 24 runs off the last over. The odds for them to lose were insane. A voice in my head, the sensible one, said it was impossible. The other team had a star bowler. But the batsman was a known hitter. My finger hovered over the mouse. I thought, what the hell, and put my entire balance – all fifteen hundred rupees – on the bowling team to win. What followed was the most nerve-wracking six balls of my life.

The first ball: a dot. I clenched my fists. The second: a single. Good. The third: a massive six that made my heart sink. The fourth: another six. Now I was sweating. They needed 11 off 2 balls. This was it. The fifth ball… the batsman swung, connected, and it soared high, high into the night sky. I held my breath. It was heading for the boundary… and the fielder on the rope jumped, stretched, and pulled off an absolute blinder of a catch. He was out! The final ball, a new batsman, the pressure was colossal. The bowler ran in, delivered a perfect yorker. The batsman could only dig it out. One run. They’d lost by three runs.

I actually jumped off my couch. I was alone in my apartment, shouting at the television. My balance now showed over twenty thousand rupees. Twenty thousand! From a thousand! It felt like I’d cracked a secret code. The rest of the night is a blur. I moved away from the sky247 live cricket section, feeling invincible. I tried my hand at blackjack. I spun a few slots. And, predictably, I started to lose. Not all at once, but bit by bit. The twenty thousand became fifteen, then ten. The thrill was replaced by a cold, sinking feeling. This was the trap everyone talked about. I was chasing the high of that cricket bet, trying to recapture it, and my money was evaporating.

When my balance hit five thousand rupees, I forced my hand away from the mouse. I just sat there, staring at the screen. The rain had stopped. The room was quiet. I’d made a profit of four thousand rupees, but it felt like a loss after the peak I’d experienced. It was a brutal lesson in perspective. I initiated a withdrawal for the five thousand right then and there. I didn’t wait. The next morning, the money was in my bank account. I bought myself a nice dinner and put the rest away.

I still log in sometimes, but only for the sky247 live cricket feed during big matches. I might put a hundred rupees on something, just for fun. But I learned my lesson that rainy Tuesday. The real win wasn't the twenty thousand; it was the five thousand I walked away with, and the understanding that the house always wins in the end if you stick around. It was a cheap, exciting, and ultimately very valuable night of education.