Kolkata Fatafat, for Ghosh Babu, isn’t some life-changing gamble or secret obsession—it’s more like a background app that’s always open. He’s been checking the numbers for so long that it’s muscle memory now, something squeezed in between errands, tea breaks, and random conversations. There’s no dramatic buildup, no visible disappointment, just a quiet acknowledgment of whatever the result is. Sometimes he’ll mention it in passing to someone nearby, not to brag or complain, but just to share the moment.

What makes it interesting is how naturally it blends into daily life. One comment turns into a short discussion, someone recalls an old win from years ago, someone else laughs it off. Then everyone moves on. Ghosh Babu doesn’t believe the game owes him anything, and maybe that’s why it never feels heavy. It’s not about chasing luck—it’s about participating in a small, shared ritual that connects strangers for a few minutes.

In a city that thrives on habits, contradictions, and quiet optimism, Fatafat fits perfectly. For Ghosh Babu, checking the result isn’t about hope or loss—it’s just another way to mark the passage of the day. And somehow, that simple act feels enough.