I was in third grade, around seven or eight years old, and school had just closed for summer vacation. Normally, we would travel to visit my mother’s family as soon as the holidays began.

But that summer, our trip was delayed by a couple of weeks. All my neighbourhood friends left for their vacations, leaving me restless and constantly pestering my mother.

One evening, she asked my father to assign me a project that would keep me occupied for at least a week. Papa came up with a challenge — learn the multiplication tables from 2 to 20. That evening, we went to the market and bought a big chart with tables printed in bold, colourful bands — each number had its own shade. Papa pasted it in our balcony, right by the swing. With every swing, I had to call out the numbers and memorise them.

The next morning, I started with full enthusiasm — and didn’t stop all day. By evening, my mother joked over tea with my father that she had revised her own tables, given how loudly I had been chanting them.

Papa decided to test me. To his surprise, I had memorised all the tables — up to 20 — in a single day!