A few weeks ago, our second semester has started. I told myself, “Back to square.” And this is too with life, whatever we dream of, whatever we do and whatsoever life lingers on. It’s always back to the square, back to the square to death. But some mates try to break the rules of nature, back to the square and I myself wanted to; the result was I joined the semester late. Good that I was late, as some even didn’t come for weeks. (But at the back of my mind, it says learning is the first priority). That one fellow (name withheld) has a habit of turning up to the class once in a blue moon. He wheedles with his life’s wife all the time and hearsay has conjectured that he might be scared of his partner's affairs with trespassers…he he. During the last semester, which was our first semester, he just came to do his exam and god knows what he wrote. Let his result come, I am pretty sure, i will take his place if he succeed.
Let me now write about how we wrote our first semester and the last exam. Uh…to start this true narration is a disturbing one and it upsets me and I become slightly eccentric at times. Good things come and with those good things, bad things also lurk behind.
I’ve been writing exams so many times and let me count; I’ve studied for sixteen years and every year comes with two exams with no fewer than seven subjects. So 16(years) ×14(Subjects) =224 times. It seems I’ve done hundreds of exams and I sometimes wonder what benefit have I got. The only one I can assure is fear, tension and lots of hairs fall.
Here again, after seven years, a person who gave exams to students is doing exams again. Hard nut to crack. The story of exam tension, exam miscreants, and bullies fill the air during the exam period.
I have a friend who wins through his talks. His speeches are like outbursts of a dam, rowdy and over-powering, who speaks through hard-loud-sound. His speech subdues anyone and is daring and forceful. Such tongue is needed in many states of affairs especially while buying stuff from Indian cheaters. He would cut the price with his forceful words to half. I would like to call his language ‘bazaar language,’ rough and crude. And people who know him know as ‘he speak like that’ or ‘his nature is like that but this nature ‘like that’ didn’t go everywhere. He has given me the liberty to use his name in any writing. He always asked me to write his full name Omar Khalid Hashim, ‘Hashim,’ and it is nice that his name becomes legendary. Anyways, the legend is also like the roaring lion caught in the net, he too suffers the consequence of rowdy talks.
An unlucky university exam was it. It was the final paper, Hashim wrote something on his question paper that was not supposed to. It was two or three words. The stern supervisor found out and was asked why he wrote on the paper. And Hashim spoke his bazaar languages that made the supervisor mad and crazy to hear his noise. “Why you are speaking like that?” and there were some intense exchanges that disturbed the whole of the exam mates. The supervisor took the paper that made him barmier, rushing after him and exchanging over again outside the room, somehow lost his time. The paper was given to him after saying it was the last warning to him. Such is the advantage of a good talker in a disadvantaged situation.
Everything is back to the square in this second semester, our lecturing, our superfluous debates, everything. Everything. Except for our HOD, Gender Studies lecture Dr. Umashankar left the college. We missed his sweety-moot-y, crafty-witty talks on masculinity, femininity, and trans-gender. Nevertheless, our new HOD plus Gender lecture Dr. Prahbha would continue the human notion of stereotyping sex. Good!
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