Mathemagic

 Back then, our answers may have been right, but how we reached them was just as important and so there was never any guarantee of how well or how badly we'd do.

Rarely were both correct for those of us who never understood the logic of maths or the reason why it was being inflicted on unsuspecting children who would rather be in a fairytale world of princesses and castles and wondrous happenings.

Luckily, we said our farewells to maths and sailed through college and into careers where the ugly bogey didn't raise its head too often. When the time came to supervise our children's homework, we managed to avoid too many explanations and scraped through with, "That's just the way it is", or "Do it the way your teacher taught you".

It's no wonder then that today we find ourselves with a skewed system of calculation, reflecting the heart more than the head — no number is just a number. It is what we decide we want it to be and we increase and decrease figures as we see fit. So we gain a few inches in height, drop a few kilos in weight, add or subtract a few years from our ages, depending on who we are trying to impress — the young with our wisdom or the old with our enthusiasm.

As I headed out on one of my many trips to visit a now office-going son, I reflected on how long it had been since I'd made this trip. The barren months stretched behind me into aeons and I started counting: July-August-September-October — four months since I'd seen that beloved face! How could any self-respecting mother of a child whom she refuses to accept as an adult allow such a long time to elapse before getting back on his tail, armed with cooked food, dishes to heat them in, books to his taste, scrounged and saved money, and of course an overdose of affection that everyone claims will do more harm than good?

A fellow passenger was another mother, heading home after spending time with her son and his family. But as soon as she took out her reading material, I knew that she was in a different league. Her book, apparently for entertainment, was titled Competitive Maths Quizzes. I watched her, one eye on my romantic thriller and the other on her, and to my horror she proceeded to take out a pen and work her way contentedly through it, a pleased smile on her face. Eventually, as is the wont during all long journeys, we began to talk, and when she heard my sad tale of the long interval between meetings, she laughed. "You saw him at the end of July and you're going again in just two months? That's very soon!"

I glared at her. Obviously, she knew all about maths, but she didn't know how to count, did she? How could something that felt like an aeon be reduced to a matter-of-fact figure in the range of 60 days, practically countable on the fingers of both hands?

When I reached my destination, I never asked the beloved one what branch of maths he followed — hers or mine. I have a suspicion that, were it not for the fact that each time I darken his doorstep I lighten his financial woes, he would side with her and say, "What, you're back in just two months?"

- Cheryl Rao is a journalist based in India.