Last month, I participated in a badminton tournament. Like every player on the court, I had done all the sensible things — I practised regularly, stretched before every game, and convinced myself that I was mentally prepared. (I had also imagined lifting the trophy once or twice, but let’s keep that between us.)
Then came one unforgettable rally. I smashed the shuttle, and it clipped the top of the net. For a split second, it could have landed on either side. It tipped over and fell onto my opponent’s court.
Someone watching smiled and said:
“Lucky shot!”
I smiled too, because they weren’t entirely wrong. But it also made me wonder. If the shuttle had landed on my side of the net, would anyone have called it bad luck? Or would they simply have said, “You should have played a better shot?”
That’s the curious thing about luck. We only seem to notice it after we know the ending.
Our Brains Love Simple Stories
Think about how often we use the word luck. A colleague gets promoted and we say, “She’s so lucky.” Someone clears the UPSC examination on the first attempt — what luck! A friend invests in a company just before its shares soar, and suddenly they’re “lucky.”
Meanwhile, you carefully choose the shortest queue at the supermarket, only to discover the person in front of you has apparently decided to buy groceries for an entire wedding.
Clearly… bad luck.
Psychology suggests that our brains love simple stories. Saying, “She succeeded because she was lucky,” is much easier than acknowledging that success usually involves preparation, persistence, timing, opportunity… and yes, a little luck.
The Ending Changes the Story
Marriage is another fascinating example — especially in India, where every family gathering mysteriously transforms into a panel discussion on arranged versus love marriages.
If a love marriage works, people say, “You were lucky to find each other.” If an arranged marriage turns out beautifully, “You were lucky with the match.” But if either one struggles, suddenly every aunt, uncle, and second cousin becomes a relationship expert.
“I knew from the engagement itself…”
“There were signs.”
Funny how certainty appears only after the outcome. Psychologists call this hindsight bias. Once we know the ending, our brains quietly rewrite the beginning as though the outcome had always been obvious.
Luck’s Quiet Sibling: Risk
Luck has a sibling that receives far less attention — risk.
If uncertainty makes us uncomfortable, why do we willingly embrace it? Why do people leave secure jobs to start businesses? Why do students apply to universities where only a handful are selected? Why do athletes enter tournaments knowing only one person will lift the trophy? Why do we tell someone we love them without knowing what the answer will be?
Because the possibility of success is often more exciting than the certainty of never trying. Without risk, there would be no opportunity. And without opportunity, luck would have nowhere to show up.
If the decision pays off, people call it brave. If it doesn’t, they call it foolish. The decision hasn’t changed. Only the ending has.
Bill Gates Had Luck. Kent Evans Had Risk.
Most of us know Bill Gates. Many know Paul Allen. Very few know Kent Evans.
Kent was one of Bill Gates’ closest friends at Lakeside School. Gates later wrote that they dreamed of building a company together. Before they could, Kent died in a mountaineering accident while still in high school.
Around the same time, Bill Gates experienced an equally extraordinary stroke of luck. Lakeside happened to be one of the very few schools in the late 1960s with access to a computer terminal. That opportunity changed his life.
The same force was at work in both stories, with the same magnitude but in opposite directions. One experienced extraordinary luck. The other experienced extraordinary risk. Neither earned either.
The Real Psychology of Luck and Risk
Luck is rarely a dramatic lightning strike. It’s more like the wind. Sometimes it is gentle. Sometimes it pushes us forward. Sometimes it blows against us. But it always blows. And we rarely notice the wind while we’re walking. We notice it only after we reach our destination.
Looking back, I realise that many meaningful moments in my own life began with uncertainty.
Choosing engineering. Entering the IT industry. Years later, deciding to study Human Resource Management. Then choosing Psychology…
At several points, I wondered whether I was taking the wrong path. None of those decisions came with a guarantee that they would work out. They were simply thoughtful risks based on the information I had at that moment. Today, they seem like good decisions. Had life unfolded differently, I might have called them mistakes.
The decisions never changed. Only the ending did.
So, the next time someone tells you, “You’re so lucky” — just smile.
They’ve probably seen the destination, not the journey.