'A Standoff with Socrates!'

"You buffalo, what do those action mean?" asked my lecturer, a long haired middle aged man with a small paunch slowly peeking out of his blue kurtha, comfortably seated on a wire mesh office chair. It was my first British Literature class and I was struggling to explain the term 'bullock' in front of a packed class. The time was 10.17AM and the poem, Sumer is icumen in. As soon as those words left his larynx, the game was on.

"Fear is like fire; it can be helpful if you know how to use it. If not, you will get burned". The words of my childhood idol, Mike Tyson. I had a rather protected childhood, a stark contrast to Tyson's. He plunged into boxing because he saw his idol, Muhammed Ali, getting beaten up by Joe Frazier in, what was potentially the last time the legend ever fought a professional bout. I started to fight because my dad told me that it's wrong if you don't right a wrong. "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee"; Muhammad Ali's mantra. "If you can punch your opponent once, be ready to get punched twice..." My training.

When this naughty kid of four couldn't keep his hands in his pocket anymore, my dad enrolled me for martial arts training. The initial days were easy. Being the youngest in the class attracted a lot of pampering. But, as my age advanced, so did the number of tournaments I attended. The countless kicks, hooks and punches, complemented with a hot temper, ensured that I grew up into a tough kid, who refused to be bullied. With this attitude of mine, it was no surprise that the right words for appropriate situations were a little hard to come by from the start, let alone explanations and elaborations.

"Everybody wants to be a beast until it's time to do what beasts do" - Mike Tyson

This attitude spilled over to my academics as well. Throughout my learning days, I fought my way past people and situations. I refused to be ragged by seniors, wouldn't attend classes of lecturers whose comments and opinions were not acceptable to me(enraging them in the process), fought with players who broke the rules of the game on the sports field and quarelled with the college adminstration because I felt that were not receiving our due. I even contested elections only because I didn't feel one of the other contestants should win without a fight. My lecturers always felt that I was taking advantage of the lenience in the system, manipulating it to suit my convenience. My only saving grace, my marks sheet. I would somehow manage to sail through, fuelling the fire further.

In the midst of all this, there was one lecturer whose classes I would sneak into without him realising it. An English professor, with his rough voice and saintly appearance, was so popular for his out of the box teaching that at the end of the semester, I realised that I had attended more of his class than the one I was actually being given attendence for. His classes were a strange amalgamation of history and culture. He spoke about the the city of Bangalore with a strange sense of belonging; Like he had seen everything there is to in the garden city. He always contrasted the city of the old to the newly constructed metropolitan city with a sense of regret. An underlying sense of disappointment slipped his otherwise witty sentences when he made comments about the city. Was I judging him? What did I risk an attendence shortage for? How did he impact my otherwise carefree attitude? I'm not sure. But, that is the one class I regretted when missed.

Otherwise, I always did what I felt was right and it was not long before I was labelled a 'rebel'.

"Everyone has a plan, until they get punched in the mouth" - Mike Tyson

They called it rebellious, I felt it's courage. They called it arrogance, I felt it's confidence.They called it defiance, I felt it's resilience.

It's in this state of mind that I decided to perceive the world for what it could offer. A world that opened its arms for me when I decided to unravel it's secrets by traveling across it length. My parents, who were always of the opinion that I was the clay in search of a mould, were aware of my approach to life and let me learn from my mistakes. Eventually, life would teach me everything there is to learn, was their belief.

The chilly nights along the backwaters of the Kabini to the baking heat of the sands of Kutch, the milky white snow of the Himalayas to the sandy shores of the Indian Ocean, the experiences were endless. I received more than I bargained for. Those were the days when every word of Ghalib made sense. Reading Rumi felt like the pinnacle of understanding life and the songs of Gulzar brought a smile on my face. The thrill of a solo adventure to the company of some great minds, I received it all. It's no wonder that all great men long to travel. It mellows down a person, his pride and his attitude. Further, it broadens his thinking and gives him a purpose in life.

I went back to college for my Masters. The same college,the same brick buildings, the same canteen, the same administration too. But, this time I was different. 

"Everybody you fight is not your enemy and everybody that helps you is not your friend."            - Mike Tyson

The English department of the college was now being headed by a man with a long, salt and pepper beard towards whom I shared immense respect and admiration right from the start. The very person in whose classes the last bench would be booked for me without the lecturer even realising that I wasn't a part of his class. A man who I thought knew me as well as I knew him. I had heard a lot about his brilliant aptitude for quizzes and his wide knowledge base during my first stinct in college. He was also popular for his notorious mockery and hilarious remarks that he could come up with effortlessly. A history with lecturers such as mine and a lecturer with a colorful character as his, was the respect and admiration enough to brave his mocking? I was not sure.

"He who is not courageous enough to take risks will accomplish nothing in life" -Muhammed Ali

It's been almost two years since the bullock incident. In this time, I have been called a fraud, a dabba and an idiot amongst many others by the same man. His most recent comment on me being, "Look at this man being so proud of his long history in crime" as a response to my singing abilities. Has he ever expressed opinions that I do not agree with? Yes. Has he mocked me in his classes? Definitely, yes. Have his remarks reduced over time? Hell, no. And yet, I attend his classes. Will I attend them in future whenever a chance presents itself? Absolutely, yes. Is it because I have changed over the years? Maybe. But the respect I have for the knowledge the man possess is still the same. The Socratic looks have also remained the same and so has his paunch peeking out of his kurtha. Do I expect him to change in the future? I doubt that. Does it matter to me? Hell, no. 

"Confidence breeds success and success breeds confidence. Confidence applied properly surpasses genius." -Mike Tyson