Me and Maths: It’s Complicated!

When we first met, it was a casual encounter. No butterflies, no sparks, no love at first sight at all! But one thing I remember clearly: it was raining. Back then, that was nature’s way of announcing that school days were back.

Maths and I didn’t exactly get along in the beginning. But like in all slow-burn love stories, things began to change. Looking back, I think ours is an almost-romantic tale of imaginary numbers and real emotions.

When We First Met (Primary School Days)

In the first standard, numbers looked cute and harmless. The memory of writing 1, 2, 3, 4 down the page still stays with me. It was like raindrops falling one by one from the trees outside our classroom window.

There was a rhythm to multiplication tables, like a song we were all made to sing. Something about that song felt magical. The way the whole class recited it together felt like a choir.

I don’t know about the English medium folks, but we Malayalam medium kids had a blast singing that aloud… it still echoes in my ears!

But memorising was a different story. My brain used to trip the moment we crossed the 5 times table. Maths and I weren’t friends then. We weren’t enemies either.

A Little Crush (Middle School)

Time passed. By the time I reached middle school, our equation started balancing itself out. Fractions didn’t look so scary anymore. They started making sense. I still remember that tiny burst of pride when I could confidently add ½ and ⅓.

Btw, dear English-medium folks, we called your LCM, La Sa Gu.

During those days, I used to see π every time I saw a cow’s legs. And θ (Theta) always looked like a cracked eggshell to me. But somewhere between fractions and equations, Maths turned into a quiet little crush—one that sneaks into my dreams and refuses to leave.

High School Romance

When I entered my teenage years, Biology walked in. I didn’t like his style. Too showy, too flashy. Honestly, he’s the real reason I started falling for Maths.

Maths always gave me clues on how to move forward. Strangely, it felt like Maths had started to understand me, or maybe I had begun to understand him.

Algebra, Geometry, and Trigonometry all came together, and it felt like a messy love triangle—full of Xs, Ys, and too many unknowns.

Algebra threw letters at me when I was just getting used to numbers. Suddenly, X and Y wanted attention. And somehow, I was expected to solve their problems. Why couldn’t they just figure it out themselves?

Geometry was all about shapes and angles, and I often wondered why Maths needed to get so artsy. I had to memorise formulas for the area, volume, and surface of every possible shape, from cubes to prisms—and honestly, I was pissed off.

And Trigonometry showed up late to class with sin, cos, and tan, acting like everyone already knew who they were. Finding the speed of a bird that had been chilling on a tree and then suddenly flew off, causing its angle of elevation to change, was always a question in exams back then.

I think only Maths can turn the poetic scene of a flying bird into a full-blown trigonometric trauma.

Still, despite all the chaos, I liked Maths. Unlike friendships, it never changed its rules depending on the day, the mood, or who was asking. What worked yesterday would still work tomorrow, no matter what was happening around me.

Something Was Brewing (The Pre-degree Phase)

Then came the pre-degree phase. Trigonometry was in full swing, and all of it felt too smart, like convent school girls who assumed you already knew them and their accent! I wasn’t even sure how to pronounce “cos.” Was it “cause”? Or “coz”? No one told me.

During this time, tuition classes took over. Mornings weren’t mine anymore. At 6 a.m., I’d stare at whiteboards, hoping the theorems would magically stick if I just looked long enough.

Surprisingly, those long stares brought something special. Slowly, the little crush on Maths started turning into something more serious. I could feel it—something was brewing!

Lost in the Crowd, But Never Forgotten (Engineering Days)

When I walked into engineering, Maths was there, smiling with a matrix in hand. We met after three long months. Still, neither of us said anything, but the reunion was filmy in my mind.

Maths showed up everywhere. Every classroom. Every subject. Every semester. With so many new and exciting topics, and knowing he was quietly present in all of them, I ended up taking him for granted.

We exchanged glances but never admitted we were in love. But after post-graduation, like most campus love stories, it slipped away softly, without a fuss, without even a goodbye.

The Patch-Up (Techie Days)

I thought I’d parted ways with Maths after college. But during my tech journey, Python walked in along with Data Science. It was Maths with a fancy new name and a cooler outfit. I felt a mix of emotions, like bumping into an old flame!

“You look… different,” I said.
“You do too,” he smiled.

Maybe it was the grey hair. Or the specs. Or the fact that I now needed a calculator to double-check 7 × 8!

Everything had changed. We were older, wiser. No more teen angst. Just calm conversations about probability, regression, and cosine similarity.

But there was still some chemistry between us. Maybe we were never broken. Just unfinished.

Maths’ Visit to the ICU (Most Unexpected)

That morning in the ICU, when I saw my son for the first time after surgery, I couldn’t hold it in and I cried. A kind nurse reminded me that my crying would only make things harder for them. (Point taken.)

After some time, I told the nurse I wanted to see my family. She smiled and gently asked if I was planning to cry again that evening. Then she checked her watch and said, “It’s only 2:30. Visiting time is at 4.” So I had to wait. And let me tell you, that was the longest one-and-a-half hours of my life.

While I was waiting to see my family again, I suddenly found myself trying hard to remember how to solve a quadratic equation. For a moment, I thought I was imagining things. Maybe it was just the anesthesia messing with me. But there it was. Maths found its way back—unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Then, at 4 p.m., my husband appeared at my bedside. I asked without wasting a second if he remembered how we ended up with that –b ± √(b²–4ac) / 2a formula from that quadratic thing.
He was relieved there were no tears after the surgery, but visibly disoriented that I chose to talk about algebra.

Maths Came Home (With Symbols)

And last week, when I was limping around with my walker in my home (whom I had fondly named Vasu), out of nowhere, X + iY popped into my head. I know—X is real, Y is imaginary. But why did ‘i’ interfere and turn the poor Y imaginary? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

When I told my close friends about the sudden pop-up of quadratic equations and complex numbers, they just laughed. My relatives, on the other hand, struggled to make sense of it.

Seeing their puzzled faces, I tried to lighten the mood with a joke—maybe a Maths professor was on the OT table just before me!

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any stranger, I saw my post-op X-ray. The wiring in my knee resembled an infinity symbol (∞), but standing upright! It seemed like Maths had found yet another way to pop up in my life, this time through surgical wires. Maybe the upright infinity symbol was just reminding me to get back on my feet.

Was it Maths’ way of protecting my knees in infinite ways?

And just then, it began to rain. Exactly like the day Maths and I first met. I half expected background music to start playing—straight out of a Padmarajan movie! 🙂

Meanwhile, my family’s still quietly curious about who was on the OT table right before me!

P.S. They say you never forget your first love. I’d like to add one more to that list — you never forget your first fracture, either. Both leave a mark!

P.P.S. These days, when my physio says I should aim for a 90-degree knee bend (and I’m stuck at 70), I can’t help but think of that bird from my old trigonometry problems—the one that flew away while I was busy calculating its speed. I just wish I had the knack for changing angles as effortlessly as that little bird. Or maybe even… wings!