ME AND MATHS

In retrospect, in elementary school, numbers and simple operations made mathematics my favourite subject because the basic concepts weren’t hard. The subject appeared charming. But the charm was short-lived and couldn’t enchant me more. The ascension in standard soon broke the spell; addition of strange algebras and complex equations made me a bad magician – making me unable to perform arithmetic tricks and ripping away the enthusiasm once the subject gave me. Even calculator proved it’s a fair weather friend, giving inaccurate answers and being inefficient. In fury, I smashed one, unable to tolerate its disloyalty.

A fair weather friend 

Left alone, I was compelled to take up Bio-science in my intermediate. However, it still didn’t leave me alone for I could sense its faint smell in chemistry and physics. Perhaps, it meant to cross my path again for it made its comeback in my current bachelor course. Only it hasn’t brought the long lost enthusiasm along with. And without this essential equipment, going along with maths is a tough journey. It's mandatory for me. Seeking or compelling interest is an only alternative left.

Luckily, I found an inspiration – a poem from the movie, Harold and Kumar: Escape from Guantanamo Bay. You may like it too. 

“The Square Root of Three”  ( A poem of Love )

I fear that I will always be

A lonely number like root three.

A three is all that’s good and right

Why must my three keep out of sight

Beneath a vicious square-root sign?

I wish instead I were a nine

For nine could thwart this evil trick

With just some quick arithmetic.

I know I’ll never see the sun

As 1.7321

Such is my reality

A sad irrationality

When, hark,  just what is this I see?

Another square root of three

Has quietly come waltzing by

Together now we multiply

To form a number we prefer

Rejoicing as an integer;

We break free from our mortal bonds

And with a wave of magic wands

Our square-root signs become unglued

And love for me has been renewed.

I never knew the wonders of mathematics can be woven into a beautiful poetry. Love the poem. Math is really a subject magical and wonderful, isn’t it. ;-) 

AN IRONY IN LOVING OTHER’S SONGS

If there is guilt being Bhutanese in me then it would be for loving hindi songs over my own country ones. This sets me thinking that I might have been some musician or lyricist or troubadour in ancient India because I have immense taste for the country’s vintage songs unlike to any other classics. As a Bhutanese, this aspect of me is totally an irony and of course, disgusting.

I cannot blame my parents for my liking to the neighbour country’s songs for they fed me enough and equal of both Bhutanese and Indian songs during my early childhood. In fact, my father was quite partial over the choice of songs I should listen to; he would refuse to change the radio station from BBS once Ap Dawpel begins with his hypnotising voice and magical dramnyen. He urged me to learn the indigenous musical instrument too. But I didn’t have the aptitude or the interest. My mother who being used to cinema in border town, used to bring in an Indian classic frequently and seldom hums herself. That just pleased my auditory sense.  And as I matured and grew aware as the country’s citizen, inevitably and eventually, I fell in for the hindi songs.

Kishor Kumar, Udit Narayan, Anu Malik, Asha Bhosle, Lata Mangeshkar are few who are into my knowledge as the singers and upon whose songs I feast usually. Regarding modern, I am little selective; I prefer sufi over other genres. And Rahat Fateh Ali Khan is my favourite. Proudly, I can complete couple of his songs. Due to these songs, I didn’t ( and don’t ) face communication gap here. It’s an incentive for being impartial in listening to any songs. On contrary, shame swallows me when I’d to admit I know only tits and bits – either head or tail – of own folk songs.

                                                               One of my favourites

Having admitted that, one may think I don’t have a sense of patriot and I’m disloyal to my homeland. Well. If research be done in this matter, it won’t be surprising to know the truth being brought to light revealing majority of youth swept away by western winds, few caught by Korean fever, some into Chinese and few like me and only fewer hooked back by country’s culture, with appetite for folk songs.

I impose myself, however, into learning and listening the songs because it’s identity; the proof of where I belong. And I’ll make sure I know a dozen at least by heart, soon.

Gospel songs are recent addition to my menu. I had begun to like it. But I assure you I am not influenced into Christianity. Perhaps, it’s only to mark my presence in a Christian college. It’ll be a souvenir.

But vintage songs remain unbeaten in my favourite list. And sufi as well. Sometimes, I really think hard that I reach the extent of insanity – my being as Mughol Emperor or Akbar himself in previous life, lying on the magnificent throne, watching beautiful damsels entertaining my court; their anklets tinkling in tune to the songs I love... Ah!.. Let’s stop it. This will be just an excuse for my loving Indian classics and sufi.