I will eventually blog about the why. For now, it would be sufficient to say that I have always been fascinated by faces and the people behind those faces. So I thought I would paint potraits with words.
The crumbled mouth finally broke into a long drawl. "Histttory.." He paused for a moment as if recollecting something. The class waited expectantly. He looked at the map of India near the blackboard and moved towards it. With a wave of his hand over the map, he uttered again "Histtory..is divided into.." Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a couple of students moving out of the class. That used to always happen. He would not call them back, of course. He had always let his teaching do the talking for him. He would make his students relive history. He would give them a bird's eye view of the three battles of Panipat, give them a taste of the English treachery, make them swell with pride about the exploits of the mighty Marathas and enrage them with a vivid account of the rape and pillage of Delhi under Nadir Shah.
The staff hadn't switched off the AC and it was still chilly inside the hall. The little fly was the sole occupant of the hall now. It's movements were getting slower and that magnificient escape plan was floating further away from it.
He looked as old as the Aravallis. Perhaps, his crisp brown suit was intended to counter that air of weariness. And all it did was highlight rather than hide. He had somehow clambered onto the podium of the air conditioned class at the Civil Service Training Academy and was addressing a batch of around two hundred students. They were curious. Until now, most of the tutors they had seen were a comparatively younger lot and if not for anything, faster and having more fluid locomotive skills. The new tutor was a bit too rickety.
One little fly perched on a nearby window inside the room. Flies prefer the warmth and this little one was no different. It looked out of place in an air conditioned hall and was perhaps trying to figure out what was happening to it. Its bulging eyes kept darting, looking for an escape route. Meanwhile, its movements were visibly slowing.
One little fly perched on a nearby window inside the room. Flies prefer the warmth and this little one was no different. It looked out of place in an air conditioned hall and was perhaps trying to figure out what was happening to it. Its bulging eyes kept darting, looking for an escape route. Meanwhile, its movements were visibly slowing.
The crumbled mouth finally broke into a long drawl. "Histttory.." He paused for a moment as if recollecting something. The class waited expectantly. He looked at the map of India near the blackboard and moved towards it. With a wave of his hand over the map, he uttered again "Histtory..is divided into.." Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a couple of students moving out of the class. That used to always happen. He would not call them back, of course. He had always let his teaching do the talking for him. He would make his students relive history. He would give them a bird's eye view of the three battles of Panipat, give them a taste of the English treachery, make them swell with pride about the exploits of the mighty Marathas and enrage them with a vivid account of the rape and pillage of Delhi under Nadir Shah.
"And Aaftter Humayun, came Jahangir." He paused. That did not sound right. But, he had already talked about the mighty Akbar and his Din-i-ilahi. His students were glancing at each other rather than at him. He could see more vacant seats. He was perplexed. "So Aurangaazzeb was a puritan. He did not drink." That was important. History was not a series of facts. In fact, history was more about people. People and what they were resulted into history;it shaped and moulded the past. And that was how it should be studied, by studying people. He could hear more laughter from the background. He tried to recollect his last sentence. He began."So Aurangaazzeb was a puritan. He did not drink."
The little fly was still in the process of hatching a plan. Nearly three-fourth of the class was vacant. The rest of them were indulging in a variety of activities like reading newspapers(preparing for civil service meant that you could ill afford to waste time), playing android games(Or maybe not), sleeping and catching up on the latest UPSC rumours. "Studentss, now write down, what I say. Important." They saw him open his file.
His trusted file. He had already written down the summary of all the classes he would be taking in separate A4's and stored it in that file. At the end of each of his class, he would make his students jot down the summary of the corresponding class. It helped them in the process of retaining it in their memory. This had been how he had done it for around twenty years. He loved the ancient A4's. Of course, minor alterations had to be made now and then to make it correspond to the syllabus. But, history mostly remained the same. He smiled and then frowned. He couldn't seem to find the right A4, the one that had the summary of today's class. He was sure that he had arranged them in order.
His trusted file. He had already written down the summary of all the classes he would be taking in separate A4's and stored it in that file. At the end of each of his class, he would make his students jot down the summary of the corresponding class. It helped them in the process of retaining it in their memory. This had been how he had done it for around twenty years. He loved the ancient A4's. Of course, minor alterations had to be made now and then to make it correspond to the syllabus. But, history mostly remained the same. He smiled and then frowned. He couldn't seem to find the right A4, the one that had the summary of today's class. He was sure that he had arranged them in order.
It was 1:30 pm and the corridor nearby the entrance of the academy was suddenly filled with students. The morning classes had ended. The conversations of the students wafted through the cold November air.
"Man, total waste of time today."
"Oh yeah. Then, why did you stay till the end?"
"I thought he would atleast dictate the notes properly. He managed to make a mess out of even that."
"Give him some slack. He's old."
" I am not blaming him. But, what's the director's excuse? We are paying a tremendous amount of fee to this academy."
"Somebody told me that this guy was a renowned professor back in the 90's. Everyone studying history as an optional used to come to him. He had then suffered a heart attack and had stopped teaching. The director basically cajoled him to come back and teach again."
"I thought he would atleast dictate the notes properly. He managed to make a mess out of even that."
"Give him some slack. He's old."
" I am not blaming him. But, what's the director's excuse? We are paying a tremendous amount of fee to this academy."
"Somebody told me that this guy was a renowned professor back in the 90's. Everyone studying history as an optional used to come to him. He had then suffered a heart attack and had stopped teaching. The director basically cajoled him to come back and teach again."
The staff hadn't switched off the AC and it was still chilly inside the hall. The little fly was the sole occupant of the hall now. It's movements were getting slower and that magnificient escape plan was floating further away from it.
