The bell rang, announcing the end of another great English lecture. Our professor had once again praised my essay in front of the entire class because of which I had a very smug expression on my face.

I had once again started daydreaming about being on the red carpet, just having won the award for the best author in the history of mankind (though I wasn't sure such an award existed). My intellectually profound words were being read and revered throughout the world.

Someone behind me said something about the next lecture being of math's and I almost dropped the award I had just won in my daydream. My pulse rate quickened as I came back from my pleasant stupor and looked at the time table with wide eyes. Yes, it was math.

"Take deep breaths," I told myself, "relax; you have a plan for this lecture…"

Before I could calm down, Sir Farooq entered the class -- 4 feet 10 inches, bald, dark eyes and a teacher of math -- my perfect definition of the word evil.

He took the attendance in the first three minutes. I had to put my plan into action just after that, so I raised my hand as the last student called out his attendance.

"Excuse me sir," I said, loud and confident.

He turned to me with a cynical expression on his face as if he knew exactly what I was doing.

"Yes?" he asked

"May I go to the men's room please?"

In other words may I please bunk your worthless lecture.

A pregnant pause followed my words; I knew he could see right through me.

"That can wait. I have a very important lecture to deliver and I don't want any student to miss any part of it."

With a jolt and a very powerful surge of adrenaline I realised that I had no backup plan. I now had to survive 40 minutes of mathematics without humiliating myself, which, given my luck and past record, not to mention my skill at the subject, was nearly impossible.

"Okay, don't worry, this plan was just a pawn," I assured myself, "stay focused and play defensive now."

The lecture started and all of a sudden everything Sir Farooq said was French. I pulled on a very confident expression which could have fooled anyone.

Or so I thought…

My expressions must have betrayed me because exactly 10 minutes later my teacher directed his first question straight at me.

"Yes, you," he pointed a small finger at me, "how will you prove that 'a' when multiplied with zero gives zero?"

Quite frankly this question to me sounded a bit stupid. Anyone who had passed second grade could tell that any number when multiplied with zero equals zero. Something, however, told me that this was not the explanation Sir Farooq was looking for.

"Clever," I sneered internally, "but not clever enough."

If he could surprise me like that I had some tricks up my sleeve as well. "I was going to ask you exactly that, sir. You see I did not properly understand your explanation."

There. I had done it. No matter how strict the teacher is, he always takes it as a personal insult that his explanation was in some way incomprehensible.

So, grudgingly he started explaining again. His words just came to me and rebounded off without anything being absorbed. Finally he finished.

"Clear?" he asked.

I lied.

The lecture continued and in between the nonsense I caught a sentence of English.

"…at the end of my explanation I will ask any student to solve a sum on the board."

I quickly calculated the probability. The chances of me being that Godforsaken student were one in a forty. All I had to do now was to avoid eye contact. So I pretended to take notes of whatever he was saying while actually I was writing the lyrics of Dance of death by Iron Maiden.

At the end of the lecture there was a pause as Sir Farooq searched his prey.

"You," he said characteristically. I knew he was pointing at someone, but I didn't look up.

"I am talking to you."

I looked up to see who the student was.

Me of course…

"And bring that paper you are writing on."

I looked at the watch. Great. 10 minutes remained.