It was right then – when she asked a tough mathematics question, and all I did was stare at her. I had no clue about the answer because my mathematics knowledge had only dwindled to a dim verge after I left school.

She was expecting an answer from me – for the reason that I had actually approached her to teach me something as tricky as trigonometry. I knew it would be time consuming, and I would get my chances to be with her for a few extra minutes.

I uttered a rubbish answer which made no sense, and she smiled, and then guffawed. As I said, it was right then, just right then – that I realised the importance of curves, of the thousand places where girls’ bodies ease from one place to another, from the arc to the foot to ankle to calf, from calf to hip, to waist, to neck, to ski-slope nose to forehead, to shoulder, to the concave arch of the back… But out of the lot, the one on her face, the smile, catches your attention the most. And when that happens, you know it is love.

I had noticed curves before, of course, but I had never quite apprehended their significance until I had seen her smile that day.

And every time I have seen her since then, I have seen love.