The back benches in the college had drafted most of the fond memories. Be it the written conversation in the last page or the scribbling in the desk, the last bench has never ceased to upset its ascenders. I was not particularly a last bencher, I prefered the ‘in between’ seat, to be on the safer side.For it is universally acknowledged that the teacher’s keen eyes befalls the infamous spot which can only be a fool’s paradise.I carefully crafted a safe abode for myself somewhere near a shielding pillar and a tall girl in the front seat made my secluded haven to endure the tedious lectures, following a short nap or a gulped samosa at times. I was safe there,carefully cocooned,unattended and unnoticed until this new professor arrived. I hated his slothy lectures on solenoid whose only knowledge to me was its diagram, a spring like mousetrap which was a left hand task ( thanks to my art classes). So it happened on a sultry afternoon, the room was stifling with sweat as he was explaining something which was always gibberish to me, I decided to decode my sketching skills. Carefully I flip the last page of my classmate notebook and begin to draw him. His apparition was easy, he was a sardarji so I had the least effort in drawing the head camoflaged with the turban, broader spectacles, moustache and beard. Next the torso,he was pot bellied, and a clalk in his right hand while the other hand had a book. Suddenly a witty mischief struck me and I began to give him ten hands like goddess durga, each hand holding a different spectacular asset daunting his shallow personality (appologies for the words, but back then I thought so). Therefore a Wren and Martin in one hand, because Lion was Loin for him and Mall was Mole. The second hand clutched on a book called ‘how to lose weight without any effort’.His other powerful weapons were a deodrant, a talcum powder, a stick,a laptop with the site ‘aged matrimony’,a bowl of peanuts and spear,for his words were as sharp as a spear stuck into your soul that you shall never forgive till eternity. Particulary, I remembered him calling me a generation of brooding donkey which indeed was true to a bit extent back in those days as a struggler, for when you choose a stream out of your interest and ability, this is what you reap.
He was witty enough to spot my distracted attention in over detailing his face.He suddenly marched upto me like a thunderbolt, seized my copy and discovered my impending disaster.I knew I awaited an indisciplined soldier’s punishment and quickly began to concoct excuses, ‘it was drawn earlier… hold on, but the picture is of him no matter when I have drawn it….my friend has drawn it, but why did I allow… this is not my copy,wait, then whose copy is this and how did it land near me?’
Finally I decided to embrace whatever awaits me and meet his gaze. He seemed lost in the picture, his careful gazelle eye scrutinized the minute details and the emblems I had entitled to him like some military medals, then in a quick moment he walked to the podium and displayed my artistic skill to everyone.
” Come and draw the same in the blackboard,let everyone see this young talent.What are you doing in my class? You must be in some art and craft school.You are in the wrong place, you still have time to rectify.”
I was frozen enough to throw a reaction,at the same time his unprecedented response amazed me, ‘Is he going to complain to the principal? I might be suspended, but its just a drawing,I did not offend him in anyway.’
He casualy asked me to sit down while handing over the copy back as he carefully flipped the pages of his Mechanics book.Still emerged in finding the right page, he suddenly uttered melancholicly like a worldly wise sage,’ when you shall grow to become a teacher in future, and your students will talk, disturb and scribble rubbish about you in the class, you will realize how it feels.’
I didn’t speculate in his words much for back in those days I always wanted to be a designer, be it an interior or a fashion, and god knows why cluelessly I attended science classes when I had no intention to pursue a career out of it.
Yes, I was one of those students at whom I yell now, for karma follows you.This incident has been a big lesson in my adulthood ever since I started working as an Assistant Professor,and I never miss to narrate this to my students.
One morning, as usual, I was late for a 9 am lecture.I was denied entrance inside so I decided to take a stroll in the college’s colonial corridors. As I walked past each room, there struck something in me from a classroom accomodating atleast a hundred students, all sitting quietely as the Professor rhythematically chants a stanza:
“What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? ”
There electrified a spark from within,the lines were so touching…’wild ecstasy’. What must be the poet thinking when he wrote this line.It lingered on my mind the entire night until the next morning I opened the computer to search about it. This was from Keats’Ode on a Grecian Urn.’ The poem had a hidden robust spark in it which captivates me even today. My immature self could hardly believe that I discovered what I actually fondled.Indeed it was my unearthed buried interest as I enter the realm of literature. I passed my higher secondary with a presentably unashamed result, decent enough to fetch a moderate college ticket, but this time I choose my course wisely.
“But why english honours?”
My father made perfect sense as he spoke to me gently, ‘Are you not preparing for entrance exams?’
So did asked my uninvited relatives for all their wards were toiling hard to make it to the best engineering college.
It was a terrible phase, the HS result was just out and all the science students even the nincompoos, rushed to the prestigious medical and engineering coachings paying a whooping amount (although a handful would make it later).But it became a status symbol of how many entrance exams one would sit for (forget about cracking). The regular colony gossips were, ‘my daughter is appearing for AIEEE’ while the other bragged ‘my son is sitting for both AIEEE and IIT’.My poor father had nothing to say for his unworthy daughter has failed him. He still tried to convince me, ” Then what is the use of studying science, look everyone is appearing for entrance.”
“Everyone is appearing, but how many would successfully make it. This is a temporary phase, a few months and the entrance season will be over, then you see, all these parents will be hidden indoors while everyone enquires the results.Besides, I am smart enough to save your money as I can foretell I won’t make it to any of the entrances while all others who are following the fashion would only end up wasting their money, so sit back and relax.”
My father was forcibly convinced, he wasnt much of a fussy dad afterall.
It really turned true, the mellow season was over, I had already taken admission in english honours while the entrance results were out. All those proud parents who were seen roving about their ward’s opportunities remained locked indoors. And for the sake of societal prestige, no matter what, they continued to study any of the science subjects even if it never interested them.
All three years of my graduation days were totally different from the past.I progressed upright as a college topper to a gold medalist and realized that the perception of an intelligent and dull student lies beneath a thin line which is the choice of subject. The moment we choose what interests us, we incline to excel in it. Had I heeded all those uncalled advicers during my prime teen, I certainly would not have landed where I am today. Afterall success is about doing what gives you happiness.
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