My mother traded two kilos of rice to marry a mute wife for me, only to find out on the wedding night that she had won the lottery
My name is Raj, 28 years old. Born and raised in a small village in Uttar Pradesh, India, I know the value of every grain of Basmati rice, every rupee. My father died early, my mother raised me alone. She was a tough, quiet person, but always put family first.

When I was 27, my mother called me out to the yard one day, her face serious:
— “Raj beta, I have something to tell you.”

I looked at her, immediately guessing that it was about marriage. In my village, a son’s marriage is a serious matter – no joking matter. But I still sighed. I never thought I would get married in an arranged marriage.

She continued, her voice frank:
— “You know, this year Uncle Sharma’s family asked your mother for a favor. They will marry their granddaughter to you, but I have to exchange two kilograms of the most delicious Basmati rice to get it done.”

I was stunned. Two kilograms of good Basmati rice – for us, that was a valuable asset.

— “Mom… you really want to exchange rice to get me married?”

She nodded, her eyes not hesitating: — “Son, marriage is fate. If I can take care of this fate for you, I have to do it. Do you believe me?”

I knew my mother had calculated carefully. I knew she did everything for me, but my heart was still heavy.

On the day I was supposed to meet the girl, I followed my mother to Uncle Sharma’s house. She sat there, silent, her eyes big and gentle like a deer. I was a little surprised when my mother said:
— “Her name is Anika. She can’t talk, but she’s understanding and very smart. You can tell by looking at her eyes.”

I nodded, trying to smile. I was still doubtful. How could I live with someone who couldn’t talk? I had imagined all sorts of trouble.

On the wedding day, the village was bustling with the sound of Bhangra music and colorful garlands. I felt something heavy in my heart: both anticipation and fear.

On the wedding night, after the ceremony and the guests had all gone, Anika and I stood in our simply decorated private room. She smiled—a wordless smile—so gently that I forgot all about my nervousness.

She gently pointed to a small red-painted wooden box placed on the Ganesha altar:
— “Look.”

I opened it, inside was an old lottery ticket. I picked it up, stared at it, not understanding.

— “What… what do you want me to see?”
Anika took my hand, gently writing on my palm:
“This is a special prize ticket. The grand prize.”

I burst out laughing. I thought I was being played. But when I took out my phone and checked each number on the ticket, my heart stopped beating: it matched perfectly! I had won the jackpot!

The two kilograms of Basmati rice that my mother “exchanged” for my marriage… turned out to be the opportunity to change my life. I won the lottery – enough money to change my entire family’s life.

Anika remained silent, looking at me with gentle eyes and a hint of humor. I was confused, then laughed out loud, a relieved laugh:
— “So… my mother was right.”

She just smiled. I knew, even though she couldn’t say a word, she understood all the emotions that were surging inside me.

The next day, my mother came to visit. She looked at Anika and me, her eyes filled with emotion:
— “You see, the price of two kilograms of rice is not wasted. I just want you to be happy.”

I hugged my mother, feeling both touched and happy. I looked at Anika, my heart filled with gratitude because she had silently arranged a miracle with my mother: happiness and luck coming at the same time.

The following days, Anika and I started our married life. She did not speak, but every action – from the way she cooked the fragrant curry, to the way she took care of my mother, or the affectionate look when she looked at me – conveyed a clear message: love, care, care. I realized that there are things that do not need words to be felt, like the meaning of prema that goes beyond words.

The prize money also opened a new chapter: I paid off my mother’s debts, built a more spacious house for my family, and most importantly, set up a small scholarship fund called “Anika” to help poor children, especially girls in the village, go to school.

My mother was still tough and quiet, but her eyes always lit up with pride when she looked at us. I understood that the price of two kilograms of rice was not a loss, but good karma, a lever that brought me to the greatest happiness and luck in my life.

My silent wife, Anika, whom I used to be afraid of, has now become my partner, my confidant, and an inspiration for me to realize: sometimes, life will arrange things in the most unexpected ways, as if determined by vidhi but surprisingly perfect.