No books, no slate, no classroom wall,
Through little stones they play so high,
Counting numbers to the probability.
No paper, no pen in their hand,
Yet math is learned through play.
A throw, a catch, a careful count,
In children’s laughter, I heard the song,
As number rise in swift amount
In every stone, a number lives,
A lesson culturally learned.
Almost lost in the modern race,
Yet today I saw its smiling face.
It was not just a game of fun,
It was how math had first begun.
Where learning and delight are one.
Indigenous Knowledge, alive and true.
The hidden truth, the hidden knowledge.
The writer is a PhD Scholar, Manipur University and can be reached at: yaiphabafff@gmail.com
