THE ANGRY BABOON

My infactuation with trouble! God has a way of making my life surprisingly exciting, ridiculously dull and terrifically inconvenient, all at the same time. Huffing and puffing my way towards a lecture which I despise as much as I despise the chessboard clothes of this pot-bellied dictator. The huge-ass professor, part-demented, part-genius, completely obnoxious. Two completely different yet very probable thoughts strike my restless neurons, either the man will chew away the microphone like a juicy sugarcane or will use it as a blunt weapon against my head… any moment now! MBA isn’t difficult, rather its times likes these when I have to clip my eyelashes to the forehead just to remain awake. This is what makes it feel like a bicycle-ride without a seat on. My ass is always on the line. Mathematics being my ‘favouritest’ subject in the whole wide world (the pun definitely intended), it adds to the deadly attraction, resembling what I felt in my younger days when I aimed at poking my finger in the electric socket. Post-lunch is never a good time to do absolutely anything but 4 hours with this Lord Voldermort reincarnation makes the session seem like a pleasant walk through the countryside. Anything that requires effort has been hugely undervalued in my life and therefore straining my delicate eardrums to listen to what I don’t even understand seems as much taxing as laughing at his non-sensical and dry jokes and cynicisms. I restrain myself from this undying desire to punch the nose off the man. He, who opens his mouth just enough for the words to struggle out of his non-existent throat and neck. And if it opened any further, he would increase the chances of getting blown up as a result of sucking up too much air! I wonder what a person like him would be if he wasn’t a professor. Maybe a comic side-kick in a b-grade Malayalam movie or a short-temepred stout constable in a remote police chowki in Uttar Pradesh! Like an old Saint Bernard, his bloodshot eyes are more of a musing than a threat as he ambles among the log-heads like a grim-reaper, waiting to pounce on anything that dares to move. His bark worse than his bite, they say! Hair jetting out of his ears like an extra pair of ugly wings of an even uglier dodo bird, which even the zoo would hesitate to have. Even though his body seems to comprise of various spare parts of funny looking animals, but the one ape he most resembles is surely the Baboon. Aah! Yes! The golden watch! More like a pimp accessory gone horribly wrong. I chuckle at the thought of him being a pimp, with a purple coloured hat with a peacock feather on top and a matching lustrous satin coat. His ‘associates’ would be hounded to death by his ‘calm and soothing’ demeanour. A smile as fresh as the molten lava guzzing out of an active volcano that has an undercurrent of warning stating “Smile with me or……!” He stumbles and rolls his way towards the white board and every time I anticipate him bumping ‘head and belly’ first into the board, to my great disappointment, he stops just in time to pierce the surface with the marker. It might require a couple of rhino tranquilizer shots to bring this stubborn ass down. Any contributions for the same are more than welcome!