Vikram Singh- The Professor who never was,,

Vikram Singh: A name whose mention is regal enough to make one pay attention. In this case, it was enough to warrant a smile in fond memory of an era passed. He was a short man with an unremarkable set of glsses; he was neither too stout nor too lean, an Indian man like a half a billion others; a Professor of Industrial Metallurgy, also not unlike the more restrictive pantheon of intellectuals of such esoterica(erotica)- but nevertheless, in many ways, he was a force to be reckoned with.

In a college filled hapless academics, who went about their jobs daily with as much enthusiasm as their morning ablutions, Vikram Singh stood out. He was chatty, had a genuine interest in his students and only a tertiary interest in his subject matter. This suited the boys very well, seeing as the subject of Non-Destructive Testing of Materials is not one that is likely to occupy any significant volume of mental real estate for a body of 18 year olds with an agenda of getting their kicks before the "whole shit-shouse came down".

His tone, while intimidating at first, seemed to mellow down with each passing meeting, as if the walls between him and his students were corroding each time, bit by bit. Soon it became evident to one and all that he was a genial guy and one of the few contemporary professors in the department of metallurgical engineering who was not too upset with his life.

In addition to lecturing on Industrial Metallurgy, he also had a fiduciary responsibility for being the warden of one of the boy's hostels-namely Vishwesvaraya, also known as Vish. This was a thankless job for many reasons. For one, it was a hostel traditonally infested by final year students- that unique breed of 21 olds that has shed its arrogance within its peers, but just developed huge chips on their shoulders when it came to superiors. Clearly, these guys did not feel that a "Warden" would be able to affect their well-being in any way. As such, the levels of drunken revelry endured in the hostel were often unreasonable, not to mention frequent late night chants of "Vicky ki ma ki X " or "Vicky ka ma ka Y" that promptly wafted in through the porous windows of Vikram Singh's home. And for no other reason than the fact that the foul phrase had a nice ring to it; something not easily explained by using conventional tools of logic.

In a more sophisticated setting, Vikram Singh was also a name chanted by the 4th year rock band, set admirably to the tune of "Child in Time" by Deep Purple.
"Vik-Ram-Singh -Tut tarara ta ta"
"Vik-Ram-Singh -Tut tarara tara ta" and so on..

But the beauty of the man lay in his generosity in overlooking such misdemeanours..puerile boorishness- a hostel-life phase that would soon pass. If it had been anyone else, he would taken the nuclear option and rusticated the entire hostel..although it is doubtful if that would have changed any behaviours. To sign off on Vicky, let me recount an incident vivid in my memory still after so many years.

It was one of those horrible summer days in Varanasi when a cold lassi is about the only reason to wake up in the morning. Sam had had a long night at the ghats- and still made it to the Industrial Metallurgy laboratory session, chaired by Vikram Singh. Vikram Singh looked squarely at his watch and then at Sam and then again at his watch.
"Sumanth Shankar, you are late today. Are you alright?"
"Yes Sir, I am a bit late, sir, cycle tire puncture" mumbled Sam
"When was the last time you had a bath?"
"Sir?"
"Why have you not shaved? And why are your clothes so wrinkled? Do you wash your clothes?"
"Sir?..Er..yes sir I bathe everyday and my dhobi washes my clothes"
"Do you take drugs? What kind do you take?"
" I say, no sir"
"Where do you buy them? does someone sell them at the hostel itself?"
"I....no sir!"
"You are an intelligent boy..don;t waste your life taking drugs. I can see that you are keen on studies-your interest in metallurgy is quite evident."
"Er..How so, sir?"
"From you T-Shirt ofcourse"
Sam looked down upon his T-shirt. So did everyone else. Emblazoned in gold letters on a black background were the words "Metallica".