Paper Kings

Wherever you go, whatever you do, there’s absolutely one thing that’s everywhere. For every problem, for every suffering, for every solution—we need it. It rules the world. That’s money—the paper we need to survive.

It’s so silly. All-mighty humans, who ruled this earth, reached the depths of the oceans and touched the sky, are bound by a paper we ourselves made king. Why do we need this paper to hold the structure of our world? I don’t understand. Why are we giving so much importance to money and making it an absolute need for life?

It decides who we are, what we wear, what we eat, where we live—and most importantly, how a person looks at us.

Sometimes I laugh at our own misery. Look at us, all grown, yet still playing a game like we used to as children. I still remember cutting paper strips, writing numbers on them, pretending to buy things from friends who were playing shopkeepers. It was silly, yet here we are, adults now, doing the same thing—just on a much bigger scale. We have more players in the game, but the difference is… this game decides our lives. All because more than a few kids believed in playing it seriously.

It’s laughable… yet so serious.

I came to know the value of money early in life—because that’s what life decided to throw at me. I was born into a below-middle-class family, an only child, yet it was difficult for my parents—no, my mom—to raise me. My father is a topic for another day, if I ever choose to open that Pandora’s box that still scares me.

We used to struggle a lot because my mom was the only one trying.

Ugh, off-topic. Let’s get back to money.

As I said, it pretty much ruled my life. It took decisions for me. Let me tell you a story. I had just completed my 10th grade and wanted to join a school that was every student’s dream. My friends went there—but I couldn’t, because we couldn’t afford it. Still, I didn’t lose hope and joined a smaller one.

Maybe… if I had the money to join that school, I could’ve fulfilled my mom’s dream, the one I mentioned in the previous story. But now, I’ll never know.

Now, I’m an adult. But I’m still struggling with the same problem—money.

If it had a soul, I’d ask: Where did I go wrong? What mistake did I make to not deserve you? Will I ever find my way to that silly paper I now crave so desperately?

Now a question for you—have you ever wondered where this paper came from? Why exactly did we choose paper as something valuable? Couldn’t we have just valued the things we needed? If you need rice, I’ll give you rice. If I want curry, you can share that with me. When did we agree to become players in this child’s game?

Once upon a time, we did trade like that. It was called the barter system. But as the world grew, that became difficult. So people agreed on a symbol—something everyone would value. At first it was stones, then metal, then gold… and eventually, paper. Now, that paper isn’t even backed by anything real. It holds value only because we all believe it does.

And so, we continue playing. Some win, some lose. But in the end, it’s still a game—and we are still the players.

Author's Note:

Today, I was just sitting with my family and talking with them. My aunt said, "I need to pay my son's graduation fee," and then my mom said, "We also need to pay the rent." That’s when I got the idea to write about money. I’ve always thought about money, but today is the first time I put it into words. Thanks for reading this.