(x + y)2 =?

The clouds appear ineffably mysterious when they reshape themselves. They form assorted impressions in your mind�"sometimes of birds, sometimes cars, sometimes human-faces and suchlike.

I’m feasting my eyes on these beauteous clouds right now. It seems the eastern clouds are separating themselves from the rest of their family, forming a pattern of their own. The pattern is bizarre, but at the same time quite familiar to me. It says nothing but this: (x + y)2=?

I take my eyes off the sky�"knowing that the equation will disappear when I take another look�"and turn my head downwards on the tiled floor.

There I make out the uneaten slice of pizza�"the one my sister was too lazy to dispose of when dropped from her hand last night. By now, numberless ants have gathered there, trying to make a feast out of it. The pattern in which the ants are wriggling suggests, at least to my eyes, the same question: (x + y)2=?

I shut my eyes, trying to soothe my knocking heart and pick myself up.

The last 48 hours have been the worst period of my life. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t feel anything but a burning ache in my heart, and everywhere, I saw the same question: (x + y)2 =?

It all began two days ago with the ‘Family Show’�"sort of a homely function that my cousins and I arranged on the day of Eid (A Muslim festival) in our grandparents’ cottage. We’ve been doing it for a couple of years, only to add some spice to the celebration of Eids. Each of our shows was immensely colorful, for we all had our unique talents to display.

All my cousins were deeply enthusiastic about the show. But Parihan, the only daughter of my eldest uncle, was simply unparalleled in this regard. She possessed a melodious singing voice, had quick hands and legs which could set off a storm while dancing and was a brilliant reciter of the modern abstract poems. She used to start preparing herself for the show months before the Eids, and the moment I’d set foot in the village, she’d rush to me and say, “Tawsif, I’ve got a new plan! Come and see.”

What she’d display afterwards�"a song, a dance or a poem�"would never cease to enthrall me to the bone.

But no matter how hard she’d try and how well she’d perform, to her mother’s eyes, she could never cut the mustard. Her mother would always find stupid and silly mistakes�"the ones I could call anything but ‘Mistakes’�"in everything she performed and scolded her at all times, claiming she should’ve done better.

Parihan had presented a classical dance on this year’s ‘Family-Show’. Her delivery earned a rapturous ovation from all, except for her stern mother. As soon as Parihan had finished the dance, her mother gripped her hand and took her away inside the cottage. I followed them, and suddenly, picked up the loud noise of a slap coming from the cottage.

I went inside hurriedly, and an ear-piercing scream broke into my eardrums abruptly, “How many times did I tell you not to make lazy steps while dancing? Can’t you be stronger?”

“Aunty! Just leave her alone,” I exclaimed and seized her away to another room.

Then I sat on the bed and made her sit beside me. She was in tears, her body shaking violently every second. I tried to relieve her agony caressing her hairs and whispering softly, “There, there! Mothers can be cruel. You know we love to watch you dance. Don’t you cry.”

What I did that day was only the reflection of my brotherly affection towards her. But never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that this could imply, from a very subtle angle, a deeper and tenderer emotion.

Parihan came to me in the morning the following day, her cheeks red and her eyes dilated with excitement. She gave a torn piece of paper in my hand and said, “Tawsif, can you crack this equation real quick? I need to pee!” And then, she left hurriedly the room.

I looked at the paper. It said,

“If x2=I, xy=5ve and y2=U; then (x + y) 2 =?”

Algebra’s the easiest of subjects to me, so I finished the math quick as a flash. The answer, as I found, was, “I + 10ve + U”.

While I sat on the bed befuddled after solving the equation, Parihan came back and said, “Well?”

“It’s done,” I retorted, “You had me worried�"this was too easy. Here.” I returned the paper.

She took the paper, cast her eye over it, and instantly, her face turned gloomy. She uttered, “Is that the answer?”

“Course, it’s I plus Ten-V-E plus U. It’s a weird math though.”

And then, she left the place, saying nothing more.

Hours later, dad discovered Parihan in the storeroom hanging with the ceiling fan. Her eyes were lifeless. Her visage which was always smiling had lost all its color, turning horrifyingly pale.

The suicide of Parihan brought a nightmare on the cottage. Nobody could accept the fact she was there with minutes ago, but yet she wouldn’t be anymore.

And I felt completely numb; I was bleeding inside, but the ache was too deep and heavy to be expressed.

We buried her beside the garden, with a heavy and shattered heart.

Later on, while I was heading back to the cottage, my eyes lit on the paper-piece�"the one Parihan handed to me�"lying on the mud. It was all twisted. I picked it up and unfolded it. The equation and the answer I’d written once again appeared before my eyes.

Though I’d written the answer myself, at that moment I felt as if something about it wasn’t right. I gave the paper a close attentive look.

“I + 10ve + U”. It’s so weird. Where did she find such a math? I thought.

And my heart leapt to my throat as I realized something I should’ve realized long before..........

Suddenly the sky reappears before my eyes, breaking my painful flashback. I feel the burn in my chest, firing up more frightfully than ever.

I can see the eastern clouds, as if to ridicule my stupid sense of maths, have added a slight extension in the pattern. It now says:

“(x + y)2=I Love U.”

Warm tears mist my eyes……