I never thought that the call of birds could actually wake me up. In the city, there aren't many birds, and even if there are, they probably don't like to make so much noise in the morning.

But here in the Bhati region, I woke up to the call of birds for the first time and was quite startled. When various types of birds start making noise together, it's not exactly a pleasant situation. As I sat up in bed, I asked, "What's going on? What's all the commotion?"

My friend Karim, in a sleepy voice, replied, "The birds are calling. They're a real nuisance. Just cover your face with the blanket and sleep."

I had arrived in this region with Karim the previous night. I'm a city boy. I like to travel, but only if it's comfortable. I'm not too enthusiastic about traveling by boat for two days, risking my life to cross the Haor. Karim practically forced me to come here, saying it would be good for my writing, and I might even find some characters. You never know.

I'm not used to looking for characters when I travel. Whenever I leave city, I'm more drawn to nature than people. I see people all the time, but I don't often get to see nature. Wherever I go, I take a lot of books with me. I've noticed that there's no better way to enjoy a new environment than to read a book in comfort. No one bothers you, and the phone doesn't ring loudly. There's a different kind of joy in being completely disconnected from the familiar world. I think that's what they call the joy of freedom.

Karim had told me, "I'll give you a huge room on the second floor of the building. There's a big veranda in front, and when you stand on the veranda, you'll see a vast Haor. There'll be a boat at the dock, and a boatman will be there. You can get on the boat whenever you want. I won't bother you at all. You can live life as you like."

It was a pretty enticing picture, but he also warned me, "At first, you'll love watching nature, but after a few days, you'll get bored. There's only water and water all around, and there's no variation in the scenery. But if you can manage to stay for a week, you'll find that you're hooked. After that, you won't want to leave."

Everything Karim said turned out to be true. We were supposed to return on the eighth day, but I asked to stay a few more days. Karim said, "You can stay as long as you want. In the meantime, I'll go to my uncle's house for a bit. My uncle's house is just beyond this Haor. I'm going there to have an argument with him, and I don't want you to come with me. You stay here."

So I stayed.

Most of my days started to pass on the Panasi boat. It's a huge boat with a bathroom and toilet inside. You can lie on the roof of the boat and watch the sky while gently rocking back and forth. At one point, I felt like I was stationary, and the sky was moving. It was an otherworldly experience, something that couldn't be imagined in a city with buildings.

## Arithmetic Couplets

### by Humayun Ahmed

In the afternoon, I lay down on the roof of the boat and fell asleep. I woke up when the evening was setting in. As I sat up, a deep voice said, "Hello, sir! I've come to meet you. My name is Jalaluddin B.A., B.Sc., I'm a math teacher at Bhatipara Model High School. You were sleeping at an unusual hour. That's not good for your health."

I was annoyed. It's not pleasant to receive advice as soon as you wake up, especially from someone you don't know. Teachers are often prone to giving unsolicited advice.

The gentleman, with an even deeper voice, continued, "I did something without your permission. I asked the boatman to make some tea. I had a cup myself, and now I'll have another cup with you. Please go wash your face and come back. Most people in the city don't wash their faces before drinking tea, which is unhealthy. Considering how well you know health-related matters, I'm surprised to see you're not taking care of yourself. You're thin, have a stubbly beard, and bright eyes like those of a tuberculosis patient. You look older than fifty, wearing a black pajama top."

I asked, "Do you have any specific business with me, or are you here just to chat?"

"I have business to discuss. I don't have time to waste on small talk, and I'm sure you don't either. I've heard that you write novels and stories. I haven't read any of your work, but I'm eager to. Time is scarce, however."

I thought about saying that we all have plenty of time, but I didn't want to encourage this man to talk excessively. Some people, especially teachers, can talk endlessly if you let them.

"Do you smoke cigarettes, sir?" I asked, lighting a cigarette.

The man looked annoyed and said, "I avoid unhealthy habits, but I do drink tea because I need it for my writing."

I felt apprehensive. In my past experiences, I've found that writers from rural areas can be overwhelming when they meet city folks. They tend to dominate conversations and make you feel uncomfortable.

Jalaluddin B.A., B.Sc. said, "I write poetry."

I remained silent, as it's best not to encourage people in such situations.

"Perhaps you're wondering why a math teacher like me writes poetry," he continued.

"I didn't think of that," I replied. "There's no reason why a math teacher can't write poetry."

"True," he said. "I'm not a traditional poet, though. I transform mathematical problems into poetry."

"Really?" I asked.

"Let me give you an example," he said. "In arithmetic, there's a problem like this: Karim can complete a task in fifteen days, while Rahim takes thirty days. How many days will they take to complete the task together? I've turned this problem into a poem:

Karim and Rahim, brothers in deed,

Karim's strength is not Rahim's speed.

Karim finishes work in fifteen days,

Rahim takes a month, in his own ways.

Young ones, think carefully,

How many days will they take together, quickly?

I was speechless, amazed by his creativity.

"How did you like it?" he asked.

"It was good," I replied.

"From the heart?" he asked.

"Yes, from the heart," I said.

"I was pleased to hear that. Would you like to hear another one? A problem about a large tank:

A huge tank, vast and wide,

Two pipes fill it, morning and evening tide.

One pipe fills it in twenty minutes fast,

The other takes half an hour, or so it will last.

How long will it take to fill the tank?

When both pipes are open, how long will it bank?

I concealed my wonder and asked, "How many poems like this have you written?"

"I've written 3,611 poems," he replied. "I've named them 'Arithmetic Couplets.' I plan to publish them in a book when I reach 10,000 poems."

I naively asked, "What's the point of all this?"

He looked annoyed and said, "Don't you understand? There's a lot of math anxiety among students. If they read these poems, their fear will fade. Plus, bright students can memorize these problems and solve them quickly. Can't they?"

"Yes, they can," I agreed.

"Would you like to hear the 'Monkey's Couplet'? It's about a slippery bamboo and a monkey. It's number 2,000 in my book:

A mischievous monkey was there,

With a shiny coat, without a care.

He saw a bamboo, all slippery and bright,

And decided to climb, with all his might.

He climbs up high, but soon slips down,

How long will it take him to climb around?

If the bamboo's twenty feet tall,

How long, my friend, will it take after all?

After reciting the poem, the gentleman stood up calmly and said, "I must go now. I won't bother you any further."

"Stay a bit longer," I urged.

"No, I have much to do and little time. Please pray that I can finish my work. I won't live much longer. You are Karim's friend; tell him about me. He will understand."

Without giving me a chance to respond, the gentleman stepped off the boat. He had come in a small dinghy, navigating through the darkness with only the starlight to guide him.

My boatman said, "That man is known as the Crazy Master. He lives alone. During the day, he wanders around, talking to himself. At night, he takes his boat and sails alone."

"Does he have any children?" I asked.

"He had one daughter, but she passed away."

I felt a deep sense of pity for the man. There are many who dedicate their lives to the wrong causes. He was one of them. Showing him kindness was the least I could do.

The next day, Karim visited me. When I mentioned Jalaluddin B.A., B.Sc., he said, "He came to see you? I didn't know. He was known as the Math Genius. He could solve any math problem in his head."

"Can he still do that?"

"He can, but his health has deteriorated. He writes poetry all day and night-those arithmetic couplets. His daughter's death affected him deeply. She was his favorite. She struggled with math, and he would scold her for it. he used to make her so afraid. Before she died, she told him, 'Why ain't i afraid of you anymore, Father? I used to be afraid of you and your math. Now i am not afraid at all.'

His daughter's death had a profound impact on him. A thought had taken root in his mind: how to help students overcome their fear of math. Slowly, his mind began to deteriorate. Before leaving, I will take you to him."

I went to see him one day. He was in a daze, but he spoke normally. He showed me a large notebook filled with his arithmetic couplets. In a deep voice, he said, "I've titled the book 'Nurun Nahar,' after my daughter's name. She had a great fear of math. She would cry secretly. If only I had written this book fifteen years ago..."

Tears welled up in Jalaluddin Sahib's eyes. With great effort, he composed himself and looked at me with a soft voice. "Please pray for me. May I finish my work."