Watching Seru sprint across the yard, tongue lolling and eyes bright, it’s clear—he lives for the chase. His favorite pastime? Running after monkeys, never caring whether he wins or loses, never counting how many times he circles the tree. For Seru, play is pure joy, unburdened by rules or numbers.
But as I reflect on our own human games, I realize how different we are. “You love to run after monkeys only. But we have sports. We have Olympics. What is all this for? People compete for numbers. They compete for higher, faster and longer numbers. Without numbers there are no sports. We count goals, runs, balls.”
It’s true. From the neighborhood cricket match to the grand stage of the Olympics, our sports are defined by numbers. We measure success in seconds, meters, and points. We celebrate records, keep scoreboards, and immortalize the highest and fastest among us. There’s a certain magic in this pursuit—the thrill of competition, the discipline of training, the glory of victory.
Yet, sometimes, I wonder if we lose something in the process. When every run is counted, every goal tallied, do we forget the simple joy of movement? Do we miss the laughter, the camaraderie, the playful spirit that first drew us to the game?
Seru doesn’t care about numbers. He doesn’t need a medal or a trophy to know he’s had a good day. His reward is the wind in his fur, the freedom of the chase, and the companionship of those who run with him. In his world, every run is a victory, every game a celebration.
Perhaps there’s a lesson here for us. Numbers have their place—they challenge us, inspire us, and help us grow. But let’s not forget the heart of play: the sheer delight of being alive, of moving, of sharing moments with others. Like Seru, may we find joy not just in the numbers we chase, but in the spirit with which we play.