Light at the end of the tunnel...

                                The day was set fair. I, along with my fellow chums, sauntered through the premises of our college and made the finest use of our free period through conversations that befitted us. After minutes of navigation we sought a class with few students and from all appearances it appeared to be their free period as well. Convinced, we embarked at the top of the class and drew a wholesome package of gossip.
                                                  Time fleeted with no intermission. As if out of nowhere a lady professor- a buxom with an air of terrible specter around her walked in and closed behind the doors. Those crucifying eyes and livid breathing lend us erratic spasms in the stomach, not to say our faces going pale by every second. Quickly it dawned on me that this was not a free period for this class....something was in store for us. While my heart pounded against my bosom I noticed some students in the front row making their way towards the door, and being oblivious to professor’s presence. While the bewildered professor observed them sternly, they slipped out of the class. Here I need hardly say that going by her airs, her pungent countenance even at length you couldn’t make her heed your inadvertent mistake. So in the wake of this to-be-tragedy my pumped up guts & grits lifted me and escalated me down with my friends following me behind. The professor, unaware of our attendance, paced forward and closed the doors with a bang. I felt beleaguered.                     
                                    At this point of time, being exceedingly occupied by the frightful drama I could not leash my legs that were involuntarily heading for the door where the antagonist of this living nightmare was about to turn. But… she didn’t. Instead she threw open the door and shouted like a raging mob, “Come here, you idiotic, thoughtless girls. Why! You must not go scot-free… I shall take you to task.” That hefty sarcasm tore me to pieces. Was I fated to cry that day? Is there no light at the end of the tunnel? Is it a prologue to a more horrid play? These questions preyed on my mind and a split second before I could have fainted, my elbow, out of an impulse or what, nudged that professor! And without making an eye contact with her, I yelled at those young women, “Hey! Girls, are you deaf, mam is calling you”. Having no interest in witnessing the aftermath, I swept away and walked past them. Horror was writ large on their faces…but was of no avail. I maintained the pace and when we were out of sight I ran like anything. Later, we stopped  and I became alive to my friends behind me huffing and puffing but safe and sound. We shared a choked smile with repercussions of that lady’s vitriolic voice banging our minds. I was more distraught. I felt for those girls on whose expense we escaped. It defeats me what provoked my shy nature to take that stand; how come the teacher didn’t yell at us and to crown it all why the professor blew our innocent offence out of proportion. Whenever I look at the professor, giggling and cracking jokes with her associates I confidently infer it’s all a masquerade. I am acquainted with her real self now that deep down she’s a tongue lashing Virago. Well, what became of her other victims I have no clue…