Extra Class

As they were thinking of leaving, the Professor entered.

“Oh! But it’s not his lecture.”

The Professor kept the files in his hand on the table and looked at them.

“Hi.”

“HI.”

Before he could say anything, the first row started emptying. Some even from the second row started getting up and moving to the seats at the back.

The Professor saw all this. He had not spoken yet.

“Now I don’t understand this…Fine, it’s not my lecture…but then…”

He surveyed the class.

“…but then…I do teach you other subjects…”

They were quiet.

“…and I do not…I do not appreciate such behaviour.”

Something rustled among the students’ benches. One of them — the most polite and sensitive of all — got up from his chair and came and sat in the front row.

The professor was standing. He did not look at the student.

Everybody was silent. The Professor was watching.

“Well…fine…I am going to take your class today as…”

Before the Professor finished two more students got up from the back and started towards the front row.

“No, no, no, no. I don’t mean to push you. I don’t mean to do that…”

Two more students got up and sat in the front row. The row had not more chairs now. The Professor stood there, his arms crossed against his chest.

Meanwhile, in the front row, one of them took out a packet of paper tissues from his bag and kept it on the table.

“Pat!!…”

Others in the front row turned towards the packet and their faces beamed. The Professor smiled.

“So should we start?”

The student pulled out two tissues from his packet and passed them to the one sitting next.

“Today, we will talk about…”

The student pulled out another pair of tissues and passed it on.

“…the element of irony in the play you have already studied.”

More pairs were pulled out, and soon everybody in the front row had tissues in their hands.

“I was told that you finished with the play only in the last class…”

The student sitting in the centre of the row wiped his face with the tissue.

“…but before we discuss the element of irony in the play…”

Everybody in the front row was now wiping their faces with the tissues.

“Now what is this? Is this what you do in the front row? I mean this is just too much.”

The students stopped wiping their faces.

“Tell me if you don’t want to study…it’ll be good for me as well…”

Now they were wiping their desks, and simultaneously the tissues were being passed to those at the back.

The Professor stopped abruptly.

“…!!…!!!…”

One of them suddenly got up and agitatedly marched out of the class. Everybody followed him with their eyes till he was out. Once he was out, the Professor looked at his shoes. After a while, he lifted his head.

“Fine…if you guys want to leave…leave.”

Everybody in the class now had a tissue in hand.

“Give me your attendance and leave.”

Just then, the student who had left entered. He had a big cordless table fan in his hand. He got a seat in the front row vacated and sat there with the table fan. The professor looked at him.

“What is this?”

He turned the fan on.

“Please continue, sir. We want to study. This is just for air.”

The class suddenly filled with a sound.

“YES, YES. PLEASE CONTINUE, SIR. WE WANT TO STUDY.”

The Professor looked at them. He was thinking.

“PLEASE CONTINUE, SIR.”

He was still thinking.

“But why have you got this fan?”

“JUST FOR AIR, SIR. JUST FOR AIR.”

“No but you must tell me…”

The class got louder.

“PLEASE CONTINUE, SIR. PLEASE CONTINUE.”

The Professor felt the force of the demand. It hit him and had an effect similar to intimidation.

“PLEASE CONTINUE, SIR. PLEASE CONTINUE.”

The chorus grew louder.

“PLEASE CONTINUE, SIR. PLEASE CONTINUE.”

The Professor stood there, not knowing how to stop the sound.

“Okay wait…”

Complete silence filled the class.

“…fine.”

They got ready to listen to the lecture. The Professor started hesitatingly.

“So we were talking about the element of irony in the play you studied last week…”

The fan was functioning without sound. It’s face was turned towards the Professor.

“…and I wanted to discuss something before talking about…”

A gust of air hit the Professor’s face.

“…irony because in order to understand irony, you must…”

More air hit the Professor’s face. He felt somewhat nice.

“…understand what leads to irony in any work of literature…”

In a short while, the air grew heavy with droplets that hit the Professor’s face, neck and shoulders. While speaking, he pulled out a blue handkerchief from his pocket. Just then, the fan was shut, the students got up and one by one walked out of the class.

***

How I see it

I do understand that words are like lumps of dead meat, unable to harm anybody. They lie on paper, lifeless and dead — they do dance, but that’s another story. They are unable to move themselves, so one must forget about moving things. And that’s where it all starts, flinging these harmless lumps on the way. They may just lie there, without moving a limb or twitching a muscle (dead don’t do that, do they?), but the blood will be for all to see.

***

Trespassing

The board at the gate of the National Museum of Science was clear: “Pets strictly not allowed”. He saw it. But somehow managed to sneak his leashed pet in. He did not want to leave Sonu outside.

“It’ll be safer inside.”

Inside the museum compound was a big nice well-kept garden with several plants and a variety of roses. At one end of the garden was the museum building and at the other end was a row of thick trees and car parking for museum officials.

He sneaked Sonu towards the other side and tied it to a young tree. Sonu’s eyes were fixed on the nearby garden.

He went towards the museum building which housed the ticket window. Before he could reach the window he heard the commotion outside.

“HEY HEY…HAT HAT…”

He turned and saw that Sonu was apprehended. He rushed out. Two security guards were holding Sonu by its neck.

“Wait! Wait! What’s wrong?”

The security guards looked at him angrily.

“IS THIS YOUR GOAT?”

“Yes, yes. What’s the matter?”

“See what it has done.”

He looked towards the garden. Sonu had eaten several roses. The choicest blue green orange and red roses which the museum was so famous for. Besides, in the chasing process, the tiny exotic plants were trampled upon. Sonu stood there in the grip of the security guards, agitated and panting after all the running around.

Later, the museum management decided to prosecute him on two counts — for breaking the rules by sneaking in with a pet, and spoiling the famous garden. However, on that day, he was allowed to go home after paying a fine and furnishing proofs of his identity and address.

A lower court summoned him a month later. The government prosecutor wanted a jail term and heavy fine.

“Months of painstaking labour was spoiled in a minute, my lord. The garden may take months to get back in its original shape. And even then… even then it may not return to its original form…”

He stood there in the dock with his head hanging low.

“There were flowers, my lord, that were the pride of the museum. Nowhere in the country such flowers existed. This, besides, the cost incurred by the museum by way of paying salaries, buying equipment and pesticides, and security of the garden…”

He seemed to be fixedly looking at something on the floor.

After a long monologue, the prosecutor demanded two years rigorous imprisonment and all the costs incurred by the museum on the garden for one year.

“But wait! Where is the goat?”

He stood silently.

“Yes, Mr Zaibu, where is that blessed goat?”

He did not speak.

“I’m asking you something.”

He was silent.

“Answer where is the goat,” the judge intervened.

“Two days ago, we cooked and ate some of it…and distributed the remaining mutton to our relatives.”

A sudden silence struck the courtroom. The prosecutor and everybody else present in the courtroom stared at him. After a while, the face of the prosecutor twitched.

“Oh! So the goat has already been reprimanded.”

A moment later, the judge fixed his gaze at him, developed a frown and seemed to think something.

Ten minutes later, the trial ended.

***