Bon Ami Part 2

Little did he know that it was NOT the M of Mathematics  which was so magical in his life but the magic emanated from the same M’s which encompassed Madhavilata Monomoy and Monosiz.

Little did he know that the letter M which has manifested the magical membrane called Life in Monomoy’s otherwise solemn melancholy existence!! 

All three of them whose names started by the mercy of M  mingled in the magic of M and intrigued by the mystery of M.

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The class started and ended in superfast speed as all the problems of probabilities and beyond were been discussed poignantly as if they were like elementary mathematics.Monosiz trailed back into memories of his first class as he always did.. No matter how hard he tried he could never push off the reminiscising the Day 1.

Their first class on special paper of Statistics at MHU by Madhavilata Mitra. They were all waiting for her when like a walking Diva she had entered the class in a pleated saree of fuschia  pink with white borders and took them all by awe. They have all envisaged their professor as a middle-aged most serious bespectacled intellectual woman with a no-nonsense attitude. But she was unconventional in every respect.

Starting with the saree (traditional ones are always white or cream with red/pink borders ) she wore just a reverse combination. She was middle-aged true but not grumpy and always had a dazzling smile on her lips. She was bespectacled true but from behind the frames shone a pair of very bright eyes which was impossible to ignore. (Monosiz’s first reaction was thank god those eyes are behind the bars else they would put me on incognito)

She was not beautiful by the rule book but she had something beyond beauty. And she had the most unconventional way to start her lectures and took the class off their feet the very first day.

She joined the class as if she was a part of her student and without even going into any deeper of the Statistical paper she was aimed to teach, she took the permission of the class and recited eyes closed the epic poem of Robert Frost.

Miles to Go Before I sleep.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

The entire class has frozen in silence, and even sitting far off from her Monosiz could still see 2 tear drops hanging like pearl from her glistening eyelids behind the heavy glasses.

Composing her from some reverie Madhavilata greeted the class once more and declared in a euphoric voice that "My Statistics is like a poetry". The class was too numb to make a comment in this otherwise insane statement. 

But then she explained softly "There are millions of words around us and we are always using 100s and 1000s of them each and every minute but what is the probability of garlanding these same words into a delicate poetry"?

We all speak in the same words but we never give a thought of creating poetry in our life with all these mundane over used words that hung around our existence since the day language was born to dictate our life.

What is probability of using the same word into transforming it into avid spasms  of emotion?? How could you pronounce the same word with love or hatred care or disrespect antipathy or admiration .. We never know..because are emotions are beyond all probability and yet bound in a probability of improbable."........

So for her Statistics meant a poetry the subject which deals with the probability of improbable and possibilities of an impossible!!!!!!

The next 1 hour went off with highly mind boggling intellectual discussions of beta probability, virtualization and normalization but for Monosiz the time stopped at the Robert Frost’ lines which kept on reverberating in his mind.

The days flew and with each of her classes her euphonic voice her prolongated lectures brain teasing problems the casualness with which she solved every complex case studies her smile and her composure drove him mad. Monosiz  became more and more drawn towards her like a moth towards a candle till such times he was desperate to win her over by his grades and silently somewhere deep inside his conscience he started thanking his father for his urge to take up Statistics as his final paper. His nights and days were succumbed into more and more difficult riders and theories. There was no other way that he could draw her attention he thought "I have to top the class"!!!

The results came and yes he was shinning the top of the list proudly; his insane efforts didn’t turn him down. Monosiz couldn't sleep even for a moment tossing in bed in a statistical euphoria calculating all options of how she will greet her the class next. 

With his pounding heart barely in his rib cage Monosiz rushed to the first class of 2^nd semester and from a distance he could see M3 approaching in her own rhythmic steps casually dressed in a deep denim skirt and yellow pullover. Yes she congratulated Monosiz with candid appreciation and wished him the very best for his future performances.

But that’s it no special treatment he was just an equal with all the average students of the class. No- one special. His heart sank deep much below the nadir of disappointment.

Following semesters Monosiz had to put even more mammoth efforts to keep his grades in the top as the entire class was now motivated to master the subject and by no means Monosiz can see himself dwindling down the ladder.

He might not be special to her but he can't see himself bargaining a glimpse of irony or sarcasm in Madhavilats's eyes if he stood 2^nd. He was sure she was too polite to comment on his grades but her silence disposition would kill him the very next moment.

Times changed and perhaps because of his grades or by a chance of luck Madhavilata had become his  guide in the final semester leaving behind a hypnotic Monosiz in a rabbit hole of thoughts!! 

How to sail across the next 6 months of his life the most crucial 6 months in each and every respect.

Logic unraveled Emotions turmoiled Mystery Epitomized and Life taking its twists ad turns in its full share!!!