88 words

This is not some movie title like Hitchcock's 39 Steps. Some of you have already heard the story from me. This is for those who did not and for the record. After Funky's exit from our tent, Rakshas proudly presented before us with a 'teacher.' I soon realised that the teacher had to be taught some basics. He never knew there was something called a deadline. I still wonder how he choregraphed with Del Piero, without having an idea about deadlines. When I explained to him about the line of assembly operations that would see all our efforts put to waste if we don't meet the deadline, he looked so intense that I thought I had successfully conveyed the message. But the days that followed showed that the lesson was lost on the teacher. He has his own deadline. The intense look I saw was not a sign of his concentration. He is just dazed.

He is not a bad guy, neither is he a fool. He has experience, he has knowledge of the subject and grasp over the language. But he is always looking dazed. Dazed like he narrowly escaped an air crash and landed in office. If he is not dazed, he fiddles. The grid masters have made things bad enough. A fiddler on the page is the last thing I am longing for.

If he has made a good design, he invariably will fiddle with it for the second show. His reasoning: The stories were not long enough. "But what about using a photograph?" "Do we use photographs?" Now I feel he is mocking me. But he looks tense and I feel he is soon going to release his tension on me. The Perpetually Amused Man on front page had the other day told me a story about how the Teacher had broken a finger of some guy who used abusive language against him. I thought that warning was meant for someone else working with me but the intensity of Teacher's looks made me feel distinctly uncomfortable.

He has a disarming smile and he greets you invariably by shaking your hand. Now hand shake is something I dislike unless there is an occasion. Everyday greetings are best maintained with a genuine smile or a hello, I think. But the Teacher grips me with a handshake, daily.

To come back to the story, I told him: "yes we do use photos and you have used one here for the first show. Only the story has changed, you could have used another appropriate photo and this story would have not been short. In fact, it would have been excess by a hundred words." "No, no, no, it's not 100 words, it will be excess by 88 words," he contradicted me. I did not know whether to laugh or to cry. "Don't worry, he is a nice guy," PMOTB rubbed it in. I knew he was having his revenge because I did not specifically ask for him when Funky left. But that was because Rakshas had preempted the Teacher on me and at that moment, I had forgotten about PMOTB. What a torture to go through because I could not remember PMOTB's name!
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