Every once in a while, I’m invited – and compelled to go – to a gathering full of academics. It’s my worst nightmare. Second only to being in the front row of a performance poetry session.
I was at one a couple of days ago. The former, not the latter. It had scientists, mathematicians, sociologists, anthropologists, professors of literature, and my wife, Dr. V. Not to forget, me, someone, who till a couple days ago, thought ‘PhD’ stood for ‘Professional Higher Degree’ with the ‘h’ being in lower case on account of an ancient typo that no one rectified.
At this point, it might be good to share with my readers that I achieved my academic pinnacle with a Bachelor of Arts degree in something called Corporate Secretaryship. And I got it ‘studying’ at a college which I visited as a guest-student on three full occasions in a corresponding number of years. Mainly to bribe the peon for my hall ticket.
