Issued in Public Interest: 3rd Fingers is not
exclusively for engineering students, it can be enjoyed by anyone who has a
sense of humor. If you don’t have any sense of any sort that may also work. The
problem with most grown up people is they have a lot of sense but they don’t
have any nonsense. In essence they don’t have any sense of humor. But hey, you
are still welcome to read this blog.
There was only one place which
made my existence in this campus worthwhile. No, I’m not talking about the vast
dark stadiums. I am talking about the place where obscure old post-retirement
men tried to transfer to us what they had learnt in the years when they were
waiting for their hair to grow old so that they could torment us the way they
had been tormented. I was studying aeronautical engineering and in essence it’s
a beautiful course. The entire design of an airplane, the relevance of the
tail, the gliders, everything about the subject mesmerized me till the teachers
spoke. However, when they got on to writing about the subject, they left petite
things like English behind and entered a realm of quant equations which would
take a mini-supercomputer to process. I was not equipped with such tools thanks
to my engagements in the initial
years of college. As time passed by in
each class, every equation grew. Once a Prof tried to teach us the relevance of
a tail in an aircraft and made a paper plane in the class to prove his point.
The class hooted. It was the first time someone was actually showing us
engineering on a level we understood – paper planes. Somehow soon the elegant
paper clips and force of the hand converted in partial derivatives and avionic
controls which were starting to flow past my head. There were mainly 5 types of
Profs in my department.
These Profs ended the class on the same note on which they began and
the students are left with the same amount of knowledge they had while entering
the class. They usually brought power point presentations to help them maintain
the monotonicity.
These are excited Profs. They
teach their subjects as if it’s the only subject in the world. They disregard
petty things such as pronunciation and one can know that a question has been
asked only when the Prof suddenly stops and looks towards the class with
expectation. This Prof usually likes the green board as using slides hinders
with his excited hopping.
This is the most dangerous category. They start their lecture on a
high note but soon fall to zero and then lower (YES, it IS possible). By the
end of the hour, you can find devils waiting outside the classroom doors to
drag the bodies away.
The last category are called the gibberish Profs. Neither the
students nor they pay much heed to what is going on in the class as long
SOMETHING is going on. Activities of a large domain happen I these classes.
Well, this of course is not an
exhaustive list. And any literate who ever attempted to graduate out of a
college would know it’s not the Profs which is the problem. It’s the lack of
them. In my department of 180 undergrads, only 10 Profs were available out of
which only 2 were willing to take classes in the first slot in the morning.
Mine was a department where the Profs found it tougher to wake up in the
morning than the students and I did understand their plight. After all, they
were the people who unlike me actually had work to do at night. I applauded to
their sense of responsibility and their hunger for more work. I wished I could
be like them one day.
And if this was not enough, I
had a mini-Sabu poking me everyday for absurd queries.
‘Have you completed the
assignment? Will you write my name on it before you submit it?’ He asked one
day. This was the greatness about my college. People didn’t bother copying or
photocopying. They found a smarter way. I looked at him. Half in surprise and
half in disgust.
Then there was this Prof who
found double derivatives and integral manipulation so fascinating that he lost
track of time writing them on the board. After he’d extend the lecture by 20
minutes (might not sound much but to us it is 33%), mini-Sabu would poke me
(not on Facebook but in the ribs) and ask me to remind the Prof of the time. He
could do it himself but somehow the ever blabbering mini-Sabu automatically
went into dumb mode during the
lecture. Then during the exams his inevitable calls were unavoidable.
‘What is the syllabus of the
exam?’
I won’t
tell. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Okay I’m speaking the
syllabus I have written.’ If you had it
why are you irritating me? Then he’d go on blabbering while I’d keep the
phone and go to order a Maggi at the nearby canteen.
‘Hello? Was that correct?’
He’d be speaking when I would pick up the phone.
‘Yes. It was.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘No.’ If not courteous,
atleast I was honest.
‘What?’ Why do people ask stupid questions if they’re not ready for the
answers?
‘I’m not sure about the
syllabus. If something comes out of what you said, I’m not responsible.’
‘Cummon! Don’t joke with me.
You know everything!’ When did I ever
give that impression?
‘Sabu? What did you say? I
can’t hear you.’ I don’t want toy you
dumbass.
‘Hey. I asked about…’
‘Sorry I can’t hear you
anymore. Seems like Vodafone has finally fizzled out. If you can hear me, bye.’
