The Dean was new. He had
come five months ago, and had utilized that time in observing the way the
college functioned. Everybody was happy.
"But why doesn't he
speak?"
He would often be seen
strolling around the corridors, greeting people with a smile.
Then before the start of
the second semester, he called a meeting for the faculty members of the
Department of English.
"Please sit
down."
The 24 faculty members
sat down.
He took his seat and
observed the people gathered in the meeting hall.
"Well, the reason to
call you here today is one. We want a department that delivers. And I want you
to give suggestions as to how we can achieve that."
Everybody started at him
in silence.
"I have been
observing the way our faculty members go about their job…"
He stopped.
"We didn't get you
here for nothing."
Everybody stiffened.
"A university is an
agent of change in the society. And that change has to flow from you — the
faculty member — your discipline; your punctuality; your attitude; your
manners; your behaviour; your personality…"
They all were listening
without any movement.
"But I'm sorry. I'm
sorry. You fail to achieve even the basic."
The Dean lifted his
hands.
"I don't know how to
put it. The other day I saw one of you scratching his groin in the classroom.
Now is this what you expect from a faculty member?"
There was no noise except
his voice.
"Not just that.
Several of you wear crumpled, and at times smelly clothes to the college. I
mean what do you expect the students to learn from you if they can't even stand
near you?... I cannot for sure."
The Head of the
Department, sitting near the Dean, looked towards the bolt of the door.
"And then your
footwear… Why can't we all wear shoes to the college? Why must our appearance
be such that we're mistaken for the cleaning staff?"
Some faculty members
looked towards the floor.
"I don't
understand…I don't understand this. We pay you salaries. We get you from
overseas. What for?"
They were all silent. The
Head of the Department who always wore a suit was playing with his pen.
"This is not acceptable.
Either you must improve yourselves or pack your bags."
Just then a low muffled human
sound emanated from under a chair at the back. It was a faculty member.
Everybody looked at him. Nobody laughed. The Dean looked at the Head.
"Now look at this.
Is this what you do in a meeting with a Dean? I mean in a meeting do you expect
suggestions and intellectual insights from a faculty member or do you expect
this?"
The face of the faculty
member turned red, and he looked down in his lap. The Dean was not looking at
him.
"No. No. No. Such
behaviour is unacceptable."
Just then, the Head
urgently got up and left the meeting hall. The Dean was looking outside the big
window at the back. Outside the window was a huge yellow desert with wavy sand
dunes.
"I don't know why I
am even talking about all this…"
He continued to look
outside the window. His eyes were fixed at the desert.
"I don't know why I
need to even talk…"
The Head returned with a
red spray can. It had flowers printed on it. He walked around the hall, smiling and spraying the contents of the can in the air. The hall filled with a sweet
artificial smell. The Head returned to his seat, put the cap back on the spray can
and kept it near his feet.
The Dean was still
looking at the desert. His gaze had turned stony. He was not speaking.
The faculty members
turned around to see if there was something in the horizon — nothing except the
yellow sand. They turned towards the Dean and waited for him to speak.
The Dean was silent. His
eyes were fixed at the desert and his face had become expressionless, like in
sleep.
The Head looked at the
Dean and smiled. But he was gazing at the desert.
The Head signaled a
faculty member at the back. He got up and opened the window. A gust of hot air
rushed in and diluted the chill of the air-conditioned hall.
The Dean was still
looking outside the window. The Head lifted his pen and pocked the Dean's thigh
from under the table. The Dean jolted, as if out of sleep. He spoke without a
pause.
"Well…I think we are
going to shut this department."
A vacuum filled the
perfumed hall. The Dean was not looking at anybody in particular.
"After this
semester, your contracts will not be renewed."
"But sir…"
"Thank you for your
time."
The Dean got up and left.
One of the faculty
members got up and hurried after him.
"But sir, only
yesterday I bought a blazer… I'm going wear it from the next week."
The Dean was walking
swiftly.
"Now you may keep it
with you and take it back to your country."
"No sir, I have no
use for it."
"I don't care. Why
didn't you buy it earlier? Why didn't you wear it earlier?"
"I was waiting for
the right time, sir."
"Yes, but your right
time has expired long ago."
"Please sir, it is
expensive…300 riyal."
"So?...What should I
do?"
The Dean quickened his
pace.
"Fine, wear it this
semester if you like. But that does not mean that your contract be renewed. We are
going to cancel all the contracts."
"There is not point,
sir."
"Fine, do what you
like."
"Please, sir."
"Please what?"
The faculty member
hesitated in his steps.
"See if you can use
it."
The Dean stopped, and
thought for a while. He spoke slowly.
"But your size will
not fit me."
"I will get it
exchanged, sir. The shop does not return. They only allow exchange within a
week."
"What colour is
it?"
"Black."
"Fine. My size is
46."
"Thank you so much,
sir. Thank you so much."
The Dean started to
leave.
"Sir…I'm sorry. I
paid 300 riyals for it. It's new… If you could give me 50 less."
The Dean thought for a
while.
"No, no, no, no…
That's too much."
"It's new,
sir."
He again thought.
"Fine."
The Dean handed him a 50 riyal note and started towards his office.
"The rest when you
get the blazer."
***