“So, how are things?” has been my standard opening sentence with all students these days. Lets them choose what they want to talk about, at least till the time the micro-manager in me can be curbed, which is typically five minutes at the maximum. The historical meeting that I mentioned in my previous post started on a similar note and the first five minutes were very pleasant, neither of us not quite knowing what was to follow.
S: “ I have the presentation in the CD, can I show? I think the code is working”
Bannu: “Oh yeah! Of course, please.”
And I took my position hunched over my snazzy IMac, waiting for the presentation like our son waits for his “Tom and Jerry” show. This work had been full off hurdles one after the other, and if the code is working then it better work well, I was hoping against hope. Two slides down…
Bannu: “Very nice, very very nice.” The simulations were looking absolutely terrific. And that was not all! Slide three and four were even better. I wanted to exclaim in joy and what came out was a shrill cry. It felt like pincers clamping near my inner thigh. Caught off guard by a scream as if in pain, the student almost fell off his chair, quite proving my suspicion about the stability of these ergonomic chairs with roller at the bottom. I myself was so shaken by the pain and even more by my own response that I stood up. And stomped about as if trying to shake off the pain as well as the embarrassment. The pincer had released the clamp but the pain was….. unshakable. The wonderful contours of the mises stress evolving with time as the crack initiated and grew were history.
Bannu:” I am expecting an extremely important call , right now, can you please leave?”
S (looking at his watch): “Leave? May be I can leave when the call comes” and then he saw my contorting face “ Okay” and immediately ejected the CD out.
Bannu: “Ouch” pincers were back on. My walk was more of a hop now. “ and please, can you pack your CD in the bag outside the roo ooh ooom? I can almost hear the phone ringing.”
Convinced that his guide had finally gone balmy the student ran out of the room closing the door behind himself, with CD in one and the bag in the other hand. I leapt to the door to lock it as he peeped in “Mam, when shall I meet you next”. “Ouch” was my response as I banged the door on his face and locked it. Hurriedly undid the ‘nadas’ of my ‘salwar’ to discover two bumps on my right thigh and the mutilated remains of two tiny ants like cherries on the top of two muffins. Two ants, who were the least impressed by our scientific progress and made their displeasure known in no uncertain terms. Over the next couple of days the muffins became two cakes and finally they merged in to one warm pancake.
As far as the student is concerned, it will take some time for me to get the student to believe that the abrupt ending of the appointed hour had nothing to do with him and that I had always expected him to be able to make the code work and that I am not any more crazier than I always was.
3 comments:
Oh dear ! Hope you are better.
My dude had a worse experience. He had kambili poochi (what are they called in English? the hairy, many limbed worm that stingeth like the adder, and a mere touch of it gives you a cursed itch?) in his paint while teaching class, and heaven knows how he tolerated the torture until class ended, calmly took the car and rushed home to his room to remove his pants and find HUGE RED BLOBS of flesh all over his thighs. Sigh ! Horrors of living in a forest.
"pant" not "paint" ! duh.
Lakshmi, the case of ants in the pants seems to be a common occurence in the forest that you mention. These days our throne seems to be part of the highway of a trail of ants. Not very pleasant at all! The creepy thing that you are talking about is I think "shuon poka" in Bangla. Hats off to dude for showing such calmness!
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