Shrivastava Ji’s Doctorate

 Prof. Kavi Shrivastava was a teacher—and a very good one. He taught Mathematics. In fact, he was such a devoted teacher of Mathematics that he began applying mathematical formulas not only to his classroom teaching but also to his personal life, family affairs and college administration.

Prof. Shrivastava was also a strict administrator. His approach to administration was so uncompromising that many of his fellow teachers found his working style irritating. Yet, when it came to students, he was an entirely different person. He was kind, approachable and always willing to go out of his way to help them. A student in difficulty could count on him.

He was equally devoted to his family. A caring, hardworking and somewhat over-possessive family man, he took upon himself almost every responsibility concerning his brothers, sisters and their families. He worried about their health, education, careers and marriages as if all these responsibilities were his personal assignments. He organized parties, receptions and family functions and often managed almost everything himself.

His excessive concern, however, sometimes irritated his relatives. Some of them became angry with him and even behaved aggressively. Shrivastava Ji, nevertheless, rarely took offence. He simply continued doing what he believed was his duty.

In short, Prof. Shrivastava was a complete gentleman: a good teacher, a strict administrator, a devoted family man, a caring husband and a loving father. He seemed to possess an inexhaustible supply of energy. He was rarely seen tired.

His wife was also a teacher. Whenever she felt stressed because of work pressure, Shrivastava Ji stood firmly beside her. Even during election duties, he would accompany her to remote villages and, when necessary, sleep in the car outside polling booths while she performed her duty.

After serving the institution for several decades, Prof. Kavi Shrivastava finally decided that it was time to add one more achievement to his long career—a doctorate. There were practical reasons too: a Ph.D. could help him in matters of promotion and bring certain financial benefits.

So began his search for a research supervisor.

Eventually, he found one.

Dr. Nasiruddin had a Ph.D. to his credit and had completed his research at a minority institution. He was an eccentric and rather colourful character. He cultivated a long beard without moustache, wore his hair long and, whenever Shrivastava Ji visited him for research discussions, could usually be found in a lungi, vest and skullcap. His dress was seldom distinguished by anything resembling neatness. The womenfolk of his house were always covered from head to toe in long black burqa although Dr. Nasiruddin was a great feminist.

Dr. Nasiruddin also possessed a curious dual personality. At seminars and conferences, particularly those organized by his left wing ideological friends, he was a passionate speaker on women's equality and empowerment. He was a bitter and bold critic of the patriarchy of the Hindus and the Manusmiriti. But when the formal speeches were over and dinner was served, his attention seemed to shift rather quickly toward the lavish spread waiting outside.

He was, above all, a formidable eater.

Whenever Shrivastava Ji visited him, he soon discovered that a research meeting was incomplete without a generous supply of non-vegetarian food. Dr. Nasiruddin's appetite appeared to have no mathematical limit. His mouth was almost permanently occupied with betel leaf, and his conversation was frequently accompanied by streaks of red betel juice. His enormous belly gave the impression that it had been inflated with considerable enthusiasm.

Dr. Nasiruddin lived in a densely populated locality where sanitation and civic infrastructure had long surrendered to neglect. The roads were muddy and narrow, with open drains, stagnant sewage and foul-smelling water. Pigs wallowed in the mud, while encroachments had reduced many roads to little more than twisting lanes.

For Shrivastava Ji, reaching his supervisor's house was itself a research project. He had to negotiate potholes, puddles and drains of various sizes before finally arriving at the destination.

And so, slowly—very slowly—the great research work progressed.

Shrivastava Ji struggled to find time for his thesis amid his innumerable family responsibilities. At his age, research was certainly not his first priority. He already had a respectable job and a comfortable salary. Nevertheless, he persevered.

He collected books, research material, data, charts and graphs. He wrote papers and even managed to get a few articles published in journals where publication fees were part of the unwritten academic arrangement. After considerable effort, he assembled all the material required for his thesis.

At last, the university fixed a date for his pre-submission seminar.

Shrivastava Ji arrived fully prepared.

He defended his research brilliantly and with remarkable confidence. The thesis was accepted, subject to a few minor changes.

For Shrivastava Ji, it was almost a moment of triumph.

After the successful seminar, he and Dr. Nasiruddin decided to celebrate. They stopped at a liquor shop and bought wine. Then came the food: kebabs, korma, Murgh Makhani, Mutton Rogan Josh and enough delicacies to feed the entire family.

It was, after all, a big day.

And Dr. Nasiruddin's family was naturally expected to share in the celebration.

With their provisions safely packed, the two began their journey back to Dr. Nasiruddin's house. In the gathering darkness and drizzle, they looked like an unlikely pair of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza on an ill-fated adventure.

Then the rain intensified.

The small drains became torrents. The larger ones looked positively dangerous.

The two men reached a particularly wide drain. They looked at it, calculated the distance and apparently concluded that it was manageable.

Dr. Nasiruddin went first.

He jumped.

He miscalculated.

Instead of landing safely on the other side, he plunged straight into the muddy drain.

Instinctively, he stretched out his hand and grabbed Shrivastava Ji.

Shrivastava Ji tried to save him.

He failed.

And in the confusion, both men tumbled into the muddy water.

The carefully purchased food followed them.

Kebabs, korma, chicken and mutton—all the fruits of their celebration—were scattered into the mud.

For a moment, everything was still.

Then came the pigs.

A herd of pigs, apparently attracted by the unmistakable aroma of the feast, charged toward the fallen food.

In the ensuing chaos, Dr. Nasiruddin collided with one of the pigs. Covered in mud, he suddenly cried out:

“Haram ho gaya! Napaak ho gaya!”

The feast was ruined.

The celebration was over.

And somewhere beneath the mud, along with the kebabs and korma, lay the carefully constructed dreams of Prof. Kavi Shrivastava.

His doctorate seemed to have fallen into the drain too and swept away with the current of mud and water. His dream to be get doctorate was also smashed.

N.B. This short story, “Shrivastava Ji’s Doctorate,” is purely a work of satire and is intended solely for humorous and literary purposes. It has no connection whatsoever with any real person, living or deceased. Any resemblance to any person, character, institution, or incident is purely coincidental and unintended. The writer shall not be held responsible for any such resemblance or interpretation.