How I Almost Saved the World – A Genie in the Land of the Free

Disclaimers : Only the genie in the story is based on a real person. Everything else is fictional. Also I don’t hate daily 8am work meetings.

Once upon a time, I wanted to change the world, like many others I knew. And we weren’t pretentious phonies with a holier than thou attitude. We were truly, incorrigibly holier than most of thou’s reading this.

As years passed by, it dawned on me that the path forward was to get rich and then comfortably change the world from my centrally air-conditioned condo in central Mumbai, while I was brought endless cups of chai at my change-the-world-from-home setup. After all, you only live once.

Then I moved to the US.
Because the only thing better than changing the world from your condo while losing to AQI is to change the world as an NRI with endless access to hot water while sharing patriotic reels as people on the other end of the world chant then why don’t you come back in my comments section.

But I’m not a phony like the rest of them, as Salinger would say. I kept the dream alive. I wrote My purpose is to change the world on my Statement of Purpose when applying to grad school and later transferred it to my LinkedIn profile where I describe myself in third person.

Then one day, a genie appeared before me. (Haters will say this is a weak literary device to accelerate the plot.) The genie was brown with an Indian accent, but I didn’t want to be rude so I didn’t ask where he was from. Though he couldn’t have been from Kerala since he didn’t assert unprovoked that Malayalam movies are the best. He hadn’t spoken about green cards within 60 seconds of his appearance so he clearly wasn’t Gujarati either. My legal team is asking me to stop.
“Hi there, we don’t have all day. I’m going to give you three options and I want you to pick one as your wish, you can’t change your mind later”.

Okay Paru, here’s your chance, whatever happens please think this through and do not pick Henry Cavill right away.

“Your options are : 1. Eradicate poverty 2. Earn $1bn for yourself 3. Eternal youth“

Slightly different than what I expected. While there was no Henry Cavill (we shall discuss that later), I still gushed at the prospects of fulfilling my purpose, and proving the world wrong on its favorite refrain that everybody is selfish.
“That’s a no-brainer,” I replied almost instantly. Almost instant since I almost considered eternal youth.
“Eternal youth could mean you can buy more time on dating apps to locate your soulmate, or even Henry Cavill you know?“
Genies that read minds are no fun.

Like I said I’m no phony, but if there’s one thing America has taught me, it’s to never assume – always ask (and always ask How are you doing before you ask whatever you really want to ask). I’m not entirely proud of what I asked.
“Can I eradicate poverty half-way and get $500 million?”
(Oh don’t judge me, when did you last get to meet a genie?)
“No.“
Let me try again.
“How about eradicate poverty by 99% and take out 8am scrums and AI art while you’re at it?”

Ok maybe I’m a little phony. But Salinger didn’t deal with this stuff when he was alive.
I finally picked option 1 which is the decent, civilized thing to do. Terms & Conditions attached meant I couldn’t share the news on any social media. Not that I would have even if the 210-page font size 8 document didn’t categorically forbid me.
The genie disappeared after I made my wish. I walked out of my apartment and nothing much had changed – of course, in this part of the world I had to turn on a news channel to find out.

‘Breaking News : Poverty eradicated – nations rejoice.‘ Haters will say that’s a sad, lazy recourse to not have to flesh out details, but that indeed was the headline that day. Stop expecting so much out of a story.

Three months later

The genie appeared before me again. “So as you know, poverty’s back in the world.”
“Yes I heard.” I wasn’t completely indulging this guy this time.
“#NotAllGenies. I’m giving you another chance to pick a wish, it’s the same 3 options as the last time.”
Okay. I can do this. “Can we edit it a little bit?”
“Are you trying to negotiate again?”
“Well, can you at least guarantee things won’t change back?”

Knowing I wouldn’t sleep well if I picked anything else, I chose the first option again. On the news this time they said “Thankyou to the Home of the Brave : Internal sources say that somebody in the West ordained this.“ They did not know the somebody is an H1B holder. But the 594-page document still didn’t allow me to share it anywhere, so I’ll just have to take this with me to my grave.

Two months later

Poverty was back. So was the genie.
Fool me once, shame on him. Fool me thrice, shame on the author of this weirdass plot. Guilt eluded me this time, I picked the second option and got filthy rich as they call it.
“I knew it’d get to you by the third time. You’re slightly more pious than the mean population, but not by much.“ So this was a test?
“Only slightly?” Not that it mattered anymore, not much mattered anymore, not even Salinger.
“Most pick the 1 billion after the first time but a good chunk have enough faith for a second try.”
“How many times would you have come back?” I didn’t want to know, but I had to ask.
“For as long as you picked the first one.” Jeez.
“And how many tries would it have taken?”
“We’ll find out when someone manages to get it through to the end.” The genie disappeared and I never saw him again. If it indeed had been a test it didn’t matter, if I indeed was a phony it didn’t matter – the money stayed. I’m working on furnishing that condo now.

Once in a while I come across someone who asks if the story is true and if it really was a genie who made me a billionaire. I correct them – it’s millionaire due to taxes. I later initiated a fundraiser dedicated to eradicating poverty so both the rich and poor (I maybe a phony but I don’t discriminate) can donate to the cause. Haters still call me selfish, I mean there’s no winning is there?

At least I now have a story of how I almost saved the world. That’s what I tell myself anyway.

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The roads kept diverging in the wood, and at some point I decided to give. Maybe the last fork would have made all the difference, I guess we’ll never know.