Is success a matter of luck or hard work?

On our visit to Germany this year, we were taught a version of ‘Rummy’, with a few extra rules. Since returning, my wife and I have played almost every other evening. She is competitive. Unfortunately for her, I am even more so.

But this is not really about cards. It is about luck. Some evenings, no matter how hard she tries, the cards refuse to cooperate, while mine seem to fall perfectly into place. I win in under five minutes. On other evenings, the roles are reversed, and I am left wondering what went wrong. We play by the same rules - we shuffle the cards vigorously, cut and deal - yet the outcomes can be remarkably different. Why?

I once had a much more sobering encounter with luck. About fifteen years ago, I was walking, not running, across a busy road at a place where I should not have crossed. Suddenly, a car came hurtling towards me, without its lights on, apparently trying to beat a red light. It missed me. When I reached the other side, I was literally shaking. I could easily have been killed. I was in the wrong for crossing there; the driver was in the wrong for speeding without lights. We were both fortunate that our mistakes did not end in tragedy. A few seconds, a few feet, and my life might have taken a very different course.

Recently, I read in Gulf News about a man who won the UAE Lottery jackpot of Dh30 million by matching all seven numbers. The odds were roughly one in 8.8 million. Sharing the prize equally with four friends meant Dh6 million for each of them. The mathematics tells us how unlikely the win was. It does not tell us why this particular group won rather than millions of others. Someone had to win, of course. But knowing that someone would win is not the same as explaining why it was him.

And that brings us to the enduring mystery: what exactly is luck?

We often use Luck, Fate, and Destiny as though they mean the same thing. To me, they are different. Luck is what happens to us without our being able to predict or control it. Fate suggests that events are already determined, whatever we do. Destiny, as I understand it, is the direction our lives take, shaped partly by our choices and actions. In India, we often call it kismet, a word that can encompass all three.

Consider someone born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He has advantages he did nothing to earn - wealth, connections, security, and opportunities that others may spend a lifetime trying to find. Is that luck? Certainly. None of us chooses the family into which we are born. But that head start does not guarantee success, nor does it determine what kind of person we become. The initial advantage may be luck; what we make of it is another matter entirely.

Science offers a perfectly reasonable explanation for much of what we call luck. Probability governs countless events, and random outcomes can produce extraordinary streaks. In a card game, the pack has no memory of who won yesterday. Yet we remember the improbable run of good fortune far more vividly than the many ordinary evenings when nothing remarkable happens.

Still, understanding probability does not entirely satisfy our curiosity. We know the odds of winning a lottery, but we cannot predict the winning ticket. We can explain the mechanics of a near miss, but that does little to answer the deeply human question: why did I survive when I might so easily have died? Perhaps there is no hidden explanation. Perhaps the mystery lies in our need to find meaning in events that are, at heart, random. I cannot claim to know and I guess I never will.

Luck, however, rarely tells the whole story.

When I joined The Bishop’s School in Pune, several senior people left, and I moved up the hierarchy. Before long, I became headmaster, the first person to hold that designated position in the school’s history. Was it luck, destiny or simply the result of hard work?

I believe it was a combination. I did not cause those senior colleagues to leave; their departures created an opportunity I could not have planned. That was luck. But when responsibilities came my way, I took them seriously and worked hard to deliver. I earned a reputation for being reliable and capable. So, when the opportunity arose, I was ready to take it.

Luck opened the door, but I still had to walk through it.

That distinction matters. Hard work does not guarantee success; any more than good fortune guarantees happiness. Capable people miss opportunities; less capable people sometimes stumble into them. Life is not a perfectly administered examination in which everyone receives marks in proportion to effort. Circumstances, timing, privilege, and chance all play their part.

Some say it’s a blessing from God while others say it’s the prayers of our parents - but are we sure?

Perhaps the wisest response is to be grateful when fortune favours us, rather than claim all the credit for ourselves. When it does not, we should resist the temptation to conclude that we are somehow less deserving. We cannot control every card we receive, but we can influence how we play it. Preparation cannot manufacture luck, but it can help us recognise an opportunity and make the most of it.

I am sure there are many people like me who remain fascinated by luck, that elusive force we can never quite explain. We should be grateful when it comes our way, and mindful that not everything we enjoy is something we have earned. Luck is real, even if its workings remain a mystery. But ultimately, what matters is how we make the best of the hand we have been dealt.

My wife and I still argue about who has the better luck at cards. Each of us is convinced that Lady Luck favours the other. After all these years, we have learnt to share almost everything in life, but apparently, we are still negotiating the fair distribution of luck!

Michael Guzder is Executive Vice-President, Education at GEMS