Saturday, March 25, 2006


Hello folks! I just realized I haven’t given you guys an adequate introduction to the people I interact with on a daily basis in LSR. Let me begin with the faculty. They are a a myriad and bizarre lot. They include a junkie, a bra burning feminist and a hysterical old lady. We refer to them by their codes. E.g. AM, SN and PP take us for modern Indian literature. Let me go age wise. First of all, there’s this teacher who loathes our class with a passion unheard of. She, I think, is honestly and truly a little balmy. She acts as though all of us spend every second of our spare time conspiring against her and we plot evil plans against her all through the day. For the above reasons, she has burst into hysterical fits of crying thrice this year. The first time was when the mobile of a girl sitting in the back row started ringing in class. Now, honestly, sometimes we all do forget to put our mobiles on silent while in class. After all we are all human. However, our teacher would have none of it. Therefore, her consequent reaction was to throw down her book, glare at he class and then declare in a soft, cold voice that she will no longer be taking our classes. She then walked out of the room. There was a hushed silence in class as is after every teacher yelling any class gets. Then one by one, we decided we should apologise to her. So we went to the staff room. She wasn’t there. After much hunting, we found her in the tutorial block. In a small room she was, crying her eyes out. Of course, all of us were stricken with guilt and felt awful. We went in, apologized to her and tried to console her. Net result, she softened and agreed to resume taking classes .two weeks later, one girl arrived late to class. Our teacher flew into another calm rage. Threw the book down and stalked out. Found in the tut block, crying yet again. This time we found it odd. On asking her why she was so upset and explaining to her that we didn’t do it on purpose and that it happened with every teacher, she worked herself up even more. She screamed that we were all liars and that she thought we were conniving horrors, who only did these things in her class because we hated her. Of course, we were all a little taken aback. However, we made amends again. All went fine for a month, till she caught two girls giggling and whispering in the back row. She yelled at us, saying, how dare we make fun of her. She went through the routine affair of crying and stuff. Yet, this time it was different, she actually stopped taking our classes for a good two weeks. To tell you the truth, we didn’t mind. She’s old and boring and refuses to resign and is toooooooooo sensitive. So we didn’t run after her either. After a while, she burst into our class one fine morning and screamed at us, asking us why we didn’t ask her to take classes again. We replied that we knew she wouldn’t listen anyway, so we didn’t want to push it. She shrieked at us some more. Something about being cheeky little spoilt brats. And stormed out. She appeared for class the next day, in a thoroughly foul temper. She raced through the course cos there wasn’t enough time and cursed us through. Her parting words were “ I’m so glad this year is over. I hate your class. I’m glad we wont have to see each other next year. Good riddance to bad rubbish!” Nuts, I tell you!!!
The next woman in line is the bra-burning feminist. Its great to have a strong take on something and stuff, but honestly when you’re on the sadder side of fifty and certain parts of your anatomy tend to sag and swing, you honestly should think of wearing adequate underwear. Anyway, we are all convinced, that this teacher must have been a Bharatnatiyam dancer at some point of time because the way she moves her hands nd gesticulates while she teaches is something you have to see to believe. When a fifty-something woman with gajra in her hair looks at you with dream eyes, and moves her hands around her head in circles (like someone possessed) in order to drill the meaning of ‘exfoliating circles’ into your head, it is distinctly funny. Actually, it’s hilarious! But she’s a brilliant teacher, so no complaints!
Then we have a teacher who is addicted to paan parag, shows up fifty minutes late for a fifty-five minutes class and refers to us by our roll numbers. She’s quite crazy and makes no bones about the fact. She walks in and out of very serious seminars chewing gutka like a cow, oblivious to the fact that she’s a massive disturbance. She treats us like inmates of a prison: “ kaidi number 250” and so on! She reads in class:”page 35 children, Mr. bounderby said…” we look up and she’s asleep on her bosom, which begins from her stomach and ends at her knees. She wakes up after a short nap “yes pg 35…actually no, it’s dull, move on to pg 189!” it’s said that she had an affair with Salman Rushdie, but after they broke up, she’s been a bit touched up there!
Other minor catastrophes are our philosophy teacher and two of our Victorian lit professors. Our Phil teacher is young and asexual. She absolutely nullifies the existence of the opposite sex and has never had a boyfriend or a crush or even an infatuation. She doesn’t have any opinion on hunks, doesn’t even think of any guy as cute. She thinks George Clooney and Brad Pitt are ok, wateva!! The first one of our Victorian literature teachers is an over excited, hyper active woman who’s doing her M Phil. She talks at 500 decibels and shakes the table so much; we think she might break it one day. We’re planning to buy earmuffs next year, if she still takes us. The last one is a woman who claims that children are parasites and they live off you and that they suck the life out of their mothers. Now she’s gone and gotten herself pregnant. Brilliant example, huh?
Now, my classmates. There’s a girl who looks like the Wicked Witch of the West. She’s 5 feet 11 inches tall and is of a heavy body build. She dresses in black everyday. It would’ve been ok if she had worn a black tee and jeans or even a little black dress. But no, she wears this calf length black skirt with ragged edges, and a black poncho. She has long black hair and her skin is white. That’s because she is caked with makeup. Her lips and cheeks are a brilliant red; she wears black eye shadow and powders her face to an unearthly, eerie white. Her nails are red too and she wears golden shoes. I swear she’s not a figment of my imagination. Her sidekick/ friend is someone who’s top half looks like Pamela Anderson and bottom half looks as though she borrowed it from one of the seven dwarves and then had a sex change! Her face bears a resemblance to Crazy Frog. Then, there’s a girl in my PG who’s always mixed up. Yesterday, we were in the market when her foot banged against my heel. I turned around and said “ Ow! That hurt! What do you have that is so sharp on your foot?’ Thoroughly flustered, she got confused between her toes and her nail and loudly proclaimed “my nose!”
Well then, au revoir…

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