Skip to main content

My Favourite Number



I have a bias.
Strong.
It won’t hurt no one.
You’d agree with me,
If you were particularly fond,
Not of strawberry or raspberry or blueberry pie,
Nor of being earnest to the word as pi,
Rather,
Of an entity whose self-esteem,
Has been suppressed to the extent
That steam,
Fountains out of its very cap.
And it adds up to a lot more than
That.
Well,
Let’s give the suspense a couple of seconds more,
It won’t hurt, really
No.
Well, well,
The celebrity is...
Well,
Number Four.

The anti-climax,
Is impossible to bear.
Truth being,
Four,
Is lucky to me.
Yes.
But it adds up to a lot more than that.

I know that everyone has a lucky number.
But how am I to impress on you,
That I have a certain association
With Number 4,
And how much it is to say,
That said?
Well, to cut a long story short,
You’ve heard of partners.
You have.
Don’t lie.

Stout partners, bearded,
Lank ones with moustaches,
Short and plump ones,
Trustworthy and,
Not so.
Number Four’s mine.
We tag around,
At every mission,
And to top it all,
With no commission.

Number Four.
Ah,
Agent 4.
He’s blue.
He wears no suit and tie,
That’s too pi.
His fashion is simply
Pyjamas,
Twice his size.
Well, so when you meet him,
Remember,
There’s more to Agent 4,
Than eyes.

Well,
Coming to the treaty
The bond
That we have sworn by.
Agent 4,
And I.
Whenever trouble knocks the door,
Happy consolation.
At an unwelcome maths score,
A pal with whom to ration.
When I’m upset,
And no one’s by,

Number 4,
Is around to back me.
No shinny.
No shy.
As good a friend
As I’d ever find.

What I do in turn
Is no surprise.
I help Agent 4,
On Mission Ice.
In Math Class
When the numbers are alive,
I’m talking to my buddy,
Through the precipice,
Of each page.
I’m so busy,
Helping him,
Overpower the 3s and 7s,
(They’re the worst, sorry!|),
That Agent 4 begins to leave
His trademark
In threes and sevens,
On my page.
I might be doing the math
Right, just now,
But,
If you wonder why,
I just can’t get the math right in class,
You know
Why.
It’s a mutual bond.
But
It helps me
Both ways!



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

What the New Year Means to Me

 What does the new year mean to me? I don't know.  I think it just means that I can give myself another chance to try, fail, succeed.   I think it means that I can spend time with family, differently this time. I think it means that I can connect with people and with myself, in new ways.  I also think that it gives me a chance to see things with a different lens. The kaleidoscope becomes a periscope. I don't know what else. Every year, I put on a new pair of goggles. Every year, I grow, whether I try, or not. Some things may work as I had expected them to, some may not. But who knows?  I will allow myself to be Novak Djokovic in my arena, who hears his name when the crowd cheers for Nadal or Federer. I will allow myself to be Rafael Nadal, who always has a plan, no matter how bleak or bright things may seem, and sticks to it. I will allow myself to be Roger Federer, who glides in, serves, plays and walks out, all in grace and style. I will allow myself to b...

Nut and Shell

 Coconut Tender as a coconut. Hard as a coconut. Light as a coconut. Heavy as a coconut. I wish I was a coconut Today... A double-shelled, strange coconut. They call those people coconuts Whom they cannot understand, Like tapping on hard rock but not getting hurt- Like knocking against the hollow And shaking a bowl of jingling water That is cushioned by tender walls. Well, maybe people could be coconuts They could have hard shells and tender interiors, A hard crunch but a sweet essence- I would like to believe so. I want to know why I'm fascinated by the coconut. It can't be solely because of its duality. It can't be its beguiling double facedness. What is it, then? I feel like maybe a shaft of light A hollow for each hard tap- Tears through the hard door. An intriguing belt of  adventurous light Wriggles out from apparent darkness. Mystery, mystery. That's what it is. The mysterious coconut.  It has a shell But it has a soul- Shell protects soul, Soul preserves shell I...

My Imaginary Pen Pal

Ma Chére Amie Félicia, Bonjour! I wonder how long it's been since I last wrote to you. Time enough for the salutations to transform from English into French indeed!:)  How is old Bob keeping? Still nosing the kennel for those dollops of fondue? Ha Ha, I really won't be surprised. 'The Triple Imbecile!' #Mam'zelle Dupont. Give Scruff my greetings. Where's that collar I gifted him? Gnashed into bits? :( Or does Mickey wear it on her head now? :\ Send me a photo whichever one of the two.  :) Last week we learnt how to tell the time in French.  Pretty tedious for 11 o'clock, if you please. Pun intended. Knuckle-knocks not very frequent , thankfully. Neither are the thumb-fiddles. No question as regards the eye-droops- French is incapacitated to give me those! We're having fun galore learning French!:)  I miss your hot chocolat terribly. Something like the warm gust of the Niagara trickling into my throat. Yesterday when I was ...