I have loved mathematics ever since I was a kid. The numbers, the equations, they fascinated me. And as I grew up, my love for the subject grew with me. I grew up not be a man made of honor or courage but to be a man made of numbers. And for that, I am proud.
It is a common misconception that mathematics is all about finding answers. It is not. Mathematics, my friends, is about certainty. It is about knowing that the answer is the right one, that there is no other answer. Unlike the arts or the sciences, there is no grey area here. In maths, there is always only one right answer. The answer is always definite, irrespective of any influential factors. The variables might change, but the answer is always going to remain constant. To be good at maths one must first embrace the fact that there is always going to be just one right answer, whether you like it or not. One must embrace the fact the everything is, in fact, set in stone. Much like life. Much like fate. 'Fate' isn't uncertain, it is not variable. Fate is just a conclusion that can be easily derived from the choices you make. Fate is just another answer; definite.
Mathematics promised me certainty, it promised me the power of always knowing that I was always right. It promised me objectivity. However, to be truly one with maths, there was a price to be paid; I'd lose all kind of subjectivity. It was a small price that I was willing to pay.
To this day, mathematics still remains the great love of my life. It is not, however, the only one.
A few years back, I lived in a city whose average population was 9 million. Which meant that the probability of two random people meeting was around one in forty thousand billion. I quote numbers because they never lie. And hence I always trusted them. But on that particular day, the numbers didn't matter.
I was sitting on a bench, waiting for a friend to come and that is when it happened. I turned to my right and there she was; in all her beauty, in all her being. Time slowed and suddenly I could see everything, hear everything, feel everything. It was a moment of absolute clarity. My mind was clear, there were no stray thoughts, no echoes. It was just her and her only. And as the time began to slowly move, I began to take it all in; her beauty, her radiance, her scent, her sound. It had been two years since I had last seen her and yet it all felt so familiar. She was the same and yet, however, different. She had grown more beautiful, more mature. A lock of her hair fell onto her face which she gently brushed aside with her two fingers; it was something that had stayed the same. And then she got up and walked away.
For a moment, I had no idea what to do. To say that I was dazed would be an understatement. I was a man of numbers, a man that believed logic defied everything. I lived in a world where everything was a calculated conclusion, where there was nothing that could not be predicted, that could not be derived. I lived in a world where there were no miracles. For all the calculations I had made, I knew what the right answer was; that there was not gonna be an ''us'', that I would never be with her and that I would never even see her again. It was the only answer that made sense. And yet here I was, seeing her after two and half years, experiencing the impossible. This brief moment had completely shaken my world that was solely built on certainty. And yet, just for that moment, I was glad that miracles do happen.
I just sat there, frozen, looking at her walk away. And all of a sudden, all the memories flooded back hitting me with a brutal yet welcoming force.
For me people have always been puzzles; puzzles that could be easily solved. My front door neighbor, Mr. Jackson was an alcoholic. People just assumed that he was rich and arrogant and had too much money to throw around. What they didn't know was that he tended to his small garden of roses every Thursday, still wore a ring with no wife around and did not drink on the 7th of July every year. What they didn't know was that he had lost his wife 15 years ago to cancer and yet hadn't let her go. People are nothing but the sum of everything they have been through and there was always only one right answer that explained everything about them; one just needed to be observant enough to find the right answer. For every question about a man, there was always one right answer.
I had been staying in that particular neighborhood since I was born and I had never met a person I couldn't solve, a puzzle whose answer I couldn't find. Until I met the puzzle next door, that is.
I met this woman about three years ago; or a thousand and three days ago, to be more precise. She was nothing extra ordinary, she was just like any other woman in the neighborhood. We lived next to each other and she was pretty friendly but then again, so was everybody else. One of the many things I have learned about humans is that they live their lives wearing various kinds of masks, the mask of kindness and gentleness being the most used one. Beneath the masks, they were all the same primal, instinctive beings they were supposed to be. It didn't take a psychologist to figure that out, a mathematician would suffice. But yet, as I began to notice her, the more it seemed that maybe she wasn't so ordinary. Every Saturday, she would tend to the unattended graves at the local cemetery. Every second Saturday of the month, she would buy a caged bird and release it to be free. And every Monday, she would give out chocolates to the first three people she met. Everything she did, was a question in itself. And every time I failed to deduce the answer, I became more intrigued. One fine Monday, I was lucky enough to receive a chocolate from her. Curiosity overtook me, as I blurted out "Why do you do this?" Something about her coy smile told me that she knew I wasn't talking only about the chocolates. She looked both ways, leaned in a bit closer and whispered slowly as if she were divulging a very sacred secret. "Because no one else will" she said. I couldn't find her right answer but it certainly seemed like I had found mine.
A sharp laughter pulled me back. I turned in the direction of the sound to see her playing with a couple of kids. I remembered these kids; they were her sister's kids, they used to come down to our neighborhood for the summer. I watched her laugh and play and took every moment in, every sound in. I was trying to absorb as much as I could because I knew time would pass and soon she would be gone. A small voice inside me, the voice of the human me, the voice that had been dead for a long time, started whispering to me. Maybe this was a second chance? Maybe I should go up and talk to her? No, screamed the logical me. I had done enough damage already. I had hurt her enough already and I couldn't afford to be the cause of her pain for a second time. She looked so happy right now, so peaceful; I couldn't risk costing her that. It was the first rule of maths; too many variables always complicated the equations. I was a variable her life didn't need. But what about you? asked the human me. This was a chance for me to be happy again. This was a chance at a future where I could watch the sunset with her in my arms and wake up everyday to her angelic face. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized about how much I truly longed for the warmth of her flesh, the depth of her eyes. I realized how much I longed for her hand to be in mine. I realized how much I longed for her soul. Take a chance, said the human me, go be happy, he said. Go be selfish, he said. I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the voices, in vain.
I knew I had to make a choice. I could just let things be and everything would happen the way it was supposed to happen. Or I could take a chance and disturb all the equations leaving nothing but uncertainty and a slight hope that maybe things would work out. I had to make my choice between certainty and uncertainty, between consistency and change, between a deserving future and an undeserving one.
I took a deep breath and made my choice. I got up from the bench, turned around and walked away.
The logical me had won. This was the right answer, the only right answer. But if this was the right answer, then why did it hurt so much?