My first semester was like an online studying experience. I was never able to keep my head straight in the class. And I was never able to concentrate while I was at work. The Fiduciary Duties and Vicarious Liabilities made me forget all the inventory stats. It was a mixed bag of focus and, carelessness and ignorance that made me score a little of the mark. And all the time during the first lecture of my second semester, I had my head down in my arms. The ramblings of the professor sounded like a lullaby. Every whisper of my classmate seemed interesting. Every drop of a pen or a pencil made me jump out of my chair and help the student responsible.
I didn't want to, but I realized that I had only one thing in mind. My imagination of Professor Amaan's smug smile haunted me ever since I held my result in hand. Blessing didn't feel like anything and advised me to take it lightly. But she doesn't know anything about how a declarative statement from the professor made me feel. It sounded challenging, but instead I knew it was condescending.
Ugh…
I felt bad in the stomach. It wasn't like 68 was a bad grade. And I didn't say anything rebellious to professor in the first place. But the silent retaliation that I had planned went all in the dust.
Where did I miss, I wondered?
The class was starting to move so I lifted my head and saw the students leaving. The professor was also packing up his stuff, ready to head out of the room. It registered with my brain that the lecture was over. It was almost a relief to my mind.
I stood up on my lanky frame and decided to go out in the corridors. Maybe a small stroll would cheer me up. Thinking that I exited the room and went in the direction of canteen.
I passed numerous cabins that constituted of department heads and other administration officials, followed by a corner of love birds where the newly paired couples were found. Walking on the same path led me to the professors' offices and right next to it was the canteen. I tried to spot Amaan's office before I could reach the cafeteria. It was in vain.
I entered the humongous round cafeteria with a 40 ft. ceiling made entirely of glass. On the right was a counter and behind it, a kitchen. Right next to it was the seating area. It seemed like the whole thing was jam packed. But it mattered less because I was not going to sit amongst these ignorant teens.
I joined a queue in front of the counter that moved at a snail's pace. People just couldn't make their minds. Even if they had as less as twenty rupees to spend, they'd spend an average three minutes at the counter. I hated these kinds of people, who were undecided and utterly pointless to the people who bear them.
After a staggering sixteen minutes I held out my twenty rupees bill and slammed on the metal sheet that covered the counter.
"One soft drink, please," I said in an annoyed tone.
The lady working at the counter was not so pleased with my attitude and just happen to spill 1/3rd of my cola on the floor. I thought nothing of it and turned around to resume my pointless uninteresting lectures.
But lo and behold to my bad luck, because three people behind, with a small metal box, stood a woman in burqa. I stood there like a stone statue as I gave her enough time to realize it was me.
"Oh! The senior most student in the world."
"Wh-What are you saying, Prof? there was older people enrolled in here."
"Oh… I never noticed anyone else. You just caught my eye due to that age."
"I'm not even that old, only late 20s."
"Hmmm. Hmmm." She nodded diligently. Then she continued," I haven't seen you here before. It was nice meeting you here."
"Ac-tually, I had something that I wanted to talk about with you."
The Prof thought about it for a while before she replied," Let me just get my lunch warmed up. Then we can talk in my office."
I nodded.
*
We walked towards the main gate of the university for a good while before Amaan turned right. I followed her path like a lost lamb. But I was curious because we were walking in the upper administration department. A place where resided the offices of Head of Departments and Dean and Director. And she was leading me through this to her office.
Did she change her office the last time I dashed into it?
Amaan was carrying her small tiffin full of goat curry in front of me. She walked slowly, in small steps, to prevent any spillage. I followed her for two more right turns before she topped dead in her tracks and turned around. She saw me and had a sigh on her face. With a tired smile, she explained what was happening. Apparently, me following her, completely blanked in her mind. She was leading us to a staff lunch room where she ate regularly.
She kept on laughing silly as I questioned her memory.
After a bit more of walking in the opposite direction, we came to the right door. A brown polished wooden door. Since her hands were full, I turned the handle and let us in.
It was the same office I saw with my fleeting glance. Same heavy glass table. Same windows behind the table. And that was pretty much it. The third thing I saw was Amaan, I mean, Professor Habib's white cheeks. But it was impossible to investigate that.
Habib went over and sat on her chair, inviting me to sit across her. I thanked her and took a seat. She whipped out another small tiffin, this time consisting of flatbreads. A steel spoon sank into the curry and a corner was torn from the flatbread. I saw it sinking into the curry and scooping out a bit of meat with it. I saw the whole thing getting lifted and resting in Amaan's mouth.
I hoped I wasn't drooling.
Because internally, I was!
Habib chewed her morsel of lunch while I sat across with my cola in hand. When I thought she had the opportunity to listen to me, I let it out," Professor, I didn't, no-I couldn't score what you said I should get."
"Don't get roundabout, just say you couldn't score seventy percent."
I was amazed at her ability to go from a cute bubble to a rigid rock in a second. I took a second to compose myself and mirrored her statement, "Yes, I couldn't score that much. I had a lot of work to take care of-"
"I'm sorry miss, this is not a counseling session. I don't care if you couldn't. all I am considered is the blight that one result will have on the overall integrity of the university."
I composed myself yet again.
"That, is what I wanted to talk about. Is there any way-"
"A lot, Miss. There are a lot of ways that this can be corrected. You know, study harder next time, don't blame it on you, et cetra."
I tried to compose myself.
"Actually Professor, I don't appreciate the taunting tone you use when you address me…"
Habib cut me off and said," Well then, you are in the wrong place, miss…"
"Madonna"
"…Miss Madonna. This is my office. And this university is mine for the caring. So, it does have a significance to me when I say something. I mean, if a single statement can shatter you like that…"
"It didn't do anything to me! I'm just saying that I deserve respect like any other human being."
"And I'd give it to you, if you earn it."
"Well, frankly, I do think I earn more than you."
"And yet, you are sitting across me because I hurt your pinky little ego."
The explosive banter stopped right there. We were talking over each other so furiously, I thought we may have a fight. Fortunately, nothing of that sort happened. We were just staring at each other. I saw how her face tightened when she was so involved in the topic. She was looking stern, like a real teacher who had dealt with bratty students one more day.
But the point was that we were getting nowhere.
I was growing tired of sitting, so I left the seat and swung her office door outside when she said 'Wait.'
I turned around to see her, who now had her hands folded. I closed the door and walked over to the table once again.
"Are you doing any extra curricular?" she asked.
I shook my head sideways.
"Mmm." She put her hand on her lips which made her seem like she was thinking. Anyway, fished through her file and handed me a paper.
"Here, this is the new test program that I want to implement on students with a grade upgrade. Now, I have come up with a prototype, and you'd be my first testee. If, of course, you are up for it."
There is was again, that smug comments about my abilities.
"Yeah, I'd do it if it bumps me up to seventy. So, what exactly would you have to do?"
"I teach evening classes four days a week. I will need you to be present for them. You will observe the methods of my teachings and make notes of my lectures. You will compose all the details into an essay and will give the draft to me. Then there will be a private session between you and me at my home. I'll e-mail you my address."
I was more bewildered than before," Why is there a lecture at your place?"
She smiled and dryly said, "I don't know, maybe we'll find out."