Big, big brother.

The most folkloric image of a science professor  is some savant–ish man having that anemic appearance, sporting a shaggy beard, tatty clothes and enthusiasm that of a ruminating cow in premises other than his own subject. We stereotype him as a pedant who’d give away his marital obligations in bed, niggling over that fourier’s problem which rankled in his head all throughout the day. Never mind the querulous wife. 

However, the modern day teacher’s delight isn’t just in pedagogy.  He is timeless as Anil Kapoor. He need not sport a moustache even. Although, he’d swagger around the campus with his pot belly drawing more attention than the fat book he carries. He’s a fop, loves to groom and has singularly carved a niche for himself by the means of pronouncing ‘illinois’ in the most ludicrous fashion. His shrill ringtone, whose mood is quite incongruent with subject at hand, rouses guffaws in the classroom amongst the other things such as his open fly.  You cannot make this shit up.  His humor doesn’t merit an attention. The spasmodic coughing of the dude sitting next to you is perhaps, more entertaining. Then there’s this moment wherein you genuinely begin to understand what’s being taught and the next moment you know you’re are picked on to answer a question which was taught in the previous lecture. This discredits you further since you never sit for lectures back to back. Now you know better than to look at the professor in the eye, or to look up at all. You’re being laughed at, chewed up and spit out ‘cause you couldn’t give pertinent answers. So unless you are endued with the shamelessness of Rakhi Sawant, you feel like an imbecile and get further discouraged. And professor gloats over it. You eat up your pride and oblige and continue feeding his ego some more because you know he controls you. He genuinely has more control over you than your own self. Unlike Mobarak and Gaddaffi, he will not call air-strikes on you or bomb you with tanks. But they say ‘Pen is mightier than sword and bullets and bombs.’ He is vindictive and he will take it out in your ‘term-work’ scores. 

So you cower in fear. 

Lady professors are more often than not, resembling lady boys. Or they are cute old wizened hags. The entire idea of ‘pretty’ female teachers is too chimerical, or just a figment of porn-star-director’s imagination. There is no such confluence in the real world, so there is no incentive to attend her class. I have never been able to understand their squeamish demeanor. They get more than enough perquisites for their position, have limited working hours, have same stock syllabus that they repeat for years at length. They are quite literally revered by some vapid fan or the other. Its like being Suzanne khan. 

If only they could just guide and not domineer, empathize and not incite fear! It will cost them nothing, but it will keep us coming back. In its stead, I sit here, writing blogs.