Hands over my arse.

See. It’s like this. I sit just behind a guy who either loves raising his hands or he honestly knows the answer for the question. That fucker doesn’t even care an inch about the poor soul – yeah, that’s me – who places his hands over his arse every time the professor looks at that guy.

It’s been a solid 1 month for me here at Great Lakes and never did I have the intention to sit down and write my experiences or how I feel. Fortunately or unfortunately, today has become that day. The day for me to vent down my extreme emotions which I felt from 6.15 PM to 8.15 PM. Five minutes into the class, I realized that I didn’t know what the professor was talking about. “Didn’t he ask us to study the Long run impact of productivity in India? Why is he talking about inflation now?” I was thinking to myself. Oh my! He has started asking questions. Fuck. Fuck. I hurriedly turned towards my left to see my ever-calm group mate glancing through his con-eyes on a blue colour economics book. Shit. I don’t even have that book. A flurry of butterflies started flying over my Poha-filled stomach.

As fuck luck would have it, the guy whom I mentioned in the starting, raises his hands. Slowly.

Fuck.

Now. Some history. This professor has had the reputation of neglecting the guy/girl who raises his hands and pin-points somebody who sits in his/her vicinity to answer. If you had been in a classroom (of course you’d have. What kind of question is this?), you’d know that every person has eight people surrounding him. If that guy sits in the aisle, the number reduces to six. In this professor’s class, if you sit just behind or just before that guy, the probability of you getting caught increases from 1/6 to 2/6. You are twice as probable of getting caught.

Now when I imagine how I might have looked at that moment, I..... don’t laugh! As I said, I was covering my arse with my left hand and was using my right hand to give a posture as though I am thinking. By consciously avoiding his eye contact, I was expecting him to ask some other soul . Two seconds over. Nobody is talking. Is he looking at me? I was truly scared. Now, should I look at him to confirm whether he was looking at me? What if he was waiting for me to look at him and ask after that? Should I take that risk? But then, what if he thinks that I am ignoring him? That will do more damage than this. Won’t it? Oh man. This is a fucking tricky situation and I became real uncomfortable. What was the question he asked? Do I know the answer? Do I know anything at all to just blabber? Shit. I couldn’t even recollect what the question was. Butterflies were playing see-saw in my stomach and I reluctantly decided to get my eyes meet his.

I slowly moved my eyes from the right to the left where I presumed he stood. My eyes never wanted to look at him but I had to take that decision. Just when I swallowed a pint of saliva and looked at that place at last, Bang! He was turning towards the white board.

At that instant, I bet that no one was more happier than me in the entire world.