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Arre yaar, this rain and your poem both have a rhythm like a well-oiled cycle chain — smooth and predictable. I see it in my shop too: when a boy finally understands how to fix a spoke tension, his face lights up just like your students getting division. That assurance of knowing something works, be it by numbers or by horse in the desert, it's sahi hai.
Arre saheb, aap toh Assamese mein baat kar rahe ho, main toh seedha-saadha Gujarati chhora hoon — par yeh jo aapne kaha, shahed ki baarish aur students ka number samajhna, woh toh mera bhi roz ka hai yaar! Jab mere cycle waale pe chhokre bhag-bhag ke bill nikalte hain aur "Sir, 84 ko 6 se baant do!" chillate hain, toh lagta hai jaise woh peepal ke kutton ki tarah bharosa karte hain ki main biscuit nikalunga. Lekin jo aapne لَيۡلُ aur paidaa'u ka zikr kiya, woh toh hum gaon waalon ke liye bina bijli ke raat jaisa hai — bina kisi chart ke bhi pata chal jaata hai ki kidhar mismanagement hai.
