I've come up to the third year of graduation and consider myself a grown up man. But this status was booked up in the registers long back ago in the July of 2010 when we were all promoted to the topmost level of the ladder we'd been building for past fifteen years of schooling. We were all in the senior most class. But as Uncle Ben said, "With great power comes great responsibility"; so did come big course, big subjects, bigger equations, bigger sums, bigger diagrams and along came bigger chiding, bigger beatings on making small mistakes. One such giver of big to small was our chemistry teacher, Mrs. Dixit.
What a scary figure she was. A Humongous Deathtrap, wrapped in an Indian clean saree, which was just enough to cover her big belly. Her arms, sandwiched between a set of perfect biceps and triceps built over the years exercising on students' backs. Her voice had that Hitler quality of making one weep even on his own birthday. A figure so scary and serious that my hand gives a shaky handwriting as I try and recollect that year. I don't remember her ever smiling except for that one lucky farewell of ours. Even in our group photograph, her face, has that neutral curve(or line) with an intense eyebrow impression. She was so serious that we gave her everyday background stories. Like this one time, she came and turned half the class out as we were not able to write cannizaro reaction; so we deduced that this day she killed her seventh husband and this was a kind of celebration for her.
My entire class of 2011 has stories, stories of escape, or close enough escape, with her. My friend who was very scared of her would often cry after the lectures and wonder why did she come to this school. This one time, Ma'am gave six equations and everyone had to write it. Organic equations, nightmare with open eyes and Dixit Ma'am watching over. She even had a special seating arrangement where her "most beloved" people sat near the gallery in between the seats where she could give her "blessings". So I was a kind of lucky when I was made to sit inside. So I wrote a component, my neighbor copied and his neighbor and his neighbor copied. One component, arrow, another component. This was going well when the wandering spirit came and stood next. With just three components of the equation, Anas(the "most beloved one") was sneaking into the last component which he could not copy in time. Just two seconds she watched and even without saying anything, her "dhai-kilo-ka-hath"(from a movie) landed on his fragile back with a bang. Such serious she was. Once when she saw a girl( also a "beloved one") drawing five bonds of carbon, she pulled her not-so-long pony and gave a good tap on her head and yelled,"aapne carbon ke panch bond lagaye hain? sharam nahi a rahi aapko".
I wonder if I had this injection( https://www.facebook.com/cadbury5star ) of curing seriousness at that time, I would've definitely dared for once to unwrap it and give it to her. I know one or two would not have been enough, but for generations to come, I would've definitely spent some money.
This is an entry into Cadbury's Contest #ConditionSeriousHai for indiblogger by Sudhir Swarup.
https://www.facebook.com/cadbury5star
What a scary figure she was. A Humongous Deathtrap, wrapped in an Indian clean saree, which was just enough to cover her big belly. Her arms, sandwiched between a set of perfect biceps and triceps built over the years exercising on students' backs. Her voice had that Hitler quality of making one weep even on his own birthday. A figure so scary and serious that my hand gives a shaky handwriting as I try and recollect that year. I don't remember her ever smiling except for that one lucky farewell of ours. Even in our group photograph, her face, has that neutral curve(or line) with an intense eyebrow impression. She was so serious that we gave her everyday background stories. Like this one time, she came and turned half the class out as we were not able to write cannizaro reaction; so we deduced that this day she killed her seventh husband and this was a kind of celebration for her.
My entire class of 2011 has stories, stories of escape, or close enough escape, with her. My friend who was very scared of her would often cry after the lectures and wonder why did she come to this school. This one time, Ma'am gave six equations and everyone had to write it. Organic equations, nightmare with open eyes and Dixit Ma'am watching over. She even had a special seating arrangement where her "most beloved" people sat near the gallery in between the seats where she could give her "blessings". So I was a kind of lucky when I was made to sit inside. So I wrote a component, my neighbor copied and his neighbor and his neighbor copied. One component, arrow, another component. This was going well when the wandering spirit came and stood next. With just three components of the equation, Anas(the "most beloved one") was sneaking into the last component which he could not copy in time. Just two seconds she watched and even without saying anything, her "dhai-kilo-ka-hath"(from a movie) landed on his fragile back with a bang. Such serious she was. Once when she saw a girl( also a "beloved one") drawing five bonds of carbon, she pulled her not-so-long pony and gave a good tap on her head and yelled,"aapne carbon ke panch bond lagaye hain? sharam nahi a rahi aapko".
This is an entry into Cadbury's Contest #ConditionSeriousHai for indiblogger by Sudhir Swarup.
https://www.facebook.com/cadbury5star
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