Dev Anand in my class-room

I attend Physics of Materials lecture classes thrice a week, and tutorial classes once a week, and my Physics of Materials (PHL 120) professor looks a lot like Dev Anand. Physics of Materials is a course I am doing this semester, the professor of which looks a lot like Dev Anand, and Physics of Materials is basically just a fancy way of saying Quantum Physics. The professor's name is Prof. H.K. Sehgal, and he looks a lot like Dev Anand. He walks the same way, he talks the same way, and he dresses the same way. The only difference is that my professor has got ears that are a bit more protruding. So striking is the similarity that I would not be surprised if one of these days, in the middle of a lecture on Bose-Einstein statistics, he suddenly starts singing and dancing around the class, waving his hands vigorously, moving his head in counter-clockwise circles, and rolling his eyes, all at the same time. All he needs to do is get his hair dyed (he is rather old), and keep a couple of paramedics handy (he is rather old), in addition to getting reconstructive surgery done on his ears, and then he will be able to do anything that has been or will ever be done by Dev Anand.

I have quite a bit of a history when it comes to teachers and professors who have resembled TV and Cinema stars. My Inorganic Chemistry professor last semester, Prof. J.D. Singh looked exactly like the guy who came on TV with Zayed Khan on a Pizza Hut commercial that used to be aired very frequently till about a couple of months back. It was a worthless ad, but it was fun to watch nevertheless, because it had my Inorganic Chemistry professor in it, or at least a guy who looked like him. So striking was the resemblance that I, unable to contain my curiosity, inadvertently interrupted one of his discussions in class on orbital-hybridisation once, and asked him if he supplemented his income from IIT, which I hear is not a lot, by doing a bit of part-time acting. Professor J.D. Singh, at this point, looked around bewildered, trying to figure out what part of the class the question had originated from. After about 2-3 minutes of searching, he finally managed to narrow down the search to me. He stared at me for another 2 minutes or so, and then, convinced that I was completely mad, continued, "So the vacant pee or battle of the oxygen atom fuses with..."

Then there was the chemistry teacher I had at school in class XI. She looked amazingly like Shashi Kapoor. Yes, she was a she, and yet she managed to look like Shashi Kapoor. She looked like what Shashi Kapoor would have looked like had he been a woman. Her name, for the time being, eludes me, although I do remember that she had very sweaty armpits. She was known around school for her sweaty armpits. I'm not trying to be gross here. It's just that, during her first class with us when we were in class XI, when she raised her arm to write on the black-board, Aseem Brahma, who sat next to me in class, pointed out to me the enormous damp patch that could be seen under her arm. Not that he needed to point it out to me, for I am quite sure I would have noticed it myself otherwise, the size of the patch being rather prominent, making it anything but unnoticeable. But since Aseem was the one who brought it to our notice in the beginning, he was the one we cursed each day, as Ms. Shashi Kapoor strode into class, and raised her right arm menacingly to write yet another chemical equation on the board. We used to dread chemistry classes in those days, and used to try and engage the teacher in long non-chemical discussions to prevent her from writing on the black-board. We used to switch on all the fans in the class before she entered, hoping that they would make some kind of a difference, but we gave up the practice after a couple of days, because the first thing she did on entering the class was to switch of the fans. She was rather short, and the fan switches were rather high on the wall, and when she used to switch off the fans as soon as she entered the class, all we could do was sit helplessly and stare at her sweaty armpits. Her sweaty armpits had a certain quality to them which made it almost impossible for us to look away. We didn't like looking at them, and yet we couldn't get ourselves to not look at them, and as a result, we usually just kept staring. Attending chemistry classes in XI was one of the most taxing experiences I came across during my school life. What was worse was the fact that the chemistry period was, on most days, held just before recess, and seeing Ms. Sweaty Armpits did not usually have a good effect on our appetites.

But I digress. I was, if I remember correctly, talking about my PHL 120 professor, who looks a lot like Dev Anand. He even speaks like Dev Anand. Which is one of the reasons I can't understand much in PHL 120 class. I don't think I have mentioned this as yet, but Prof. H.K. Sehgal is an amazing teacher. He is definitely one of the better teachers I have come across during my brief stay at IITD, and he has, by far, the best sense of humour. Yet, I fail to understand what is being done in class. This, I think, is because of a strange feeling I get each time I sit in PHL 120 class. It's like I am continuously asking myself why I am learning Quantum Physics from Dev Anand. And since I am continuously asking myself why I am learning Quantum Physics from Dev Anand, I am, in the process, not actually learning Quantum Physics from Dev Anand, because of two reasons. Firstly, it is because I am actually learning Quantum Physics from Prof. H.K. Sehgal, who merely looks like Dev Anand, and is not actually Dev Anand, and secondly, because I am not actually learning Quantum Physics at all, because instead of learning Quantum Physics, I am continuously asking myself why I am learning Quantum Physics from Dev Anand, which I am not.

In addition to not understanding any Quantum Physics in class because I keep asking myself why I am learning Quantum Physics from Dev Anand, I also don't understand much of Quantum Physics anyway, because I find it extremely hard to understand. The textbook is written in a way that is impossible to understand, and the subject on the whole is rather tough. And the fact that my professor looks like Dev Anand does not really help my cause. And not only does he look like Dev Anand, but he also talks like Dev Anand, nodding vigorously while discussing concepts, and waving his hands around for special emphasis.

And not only does he talk like Dev Anand, but also dresses like Dev Anand. He dresses impeccably, and has really funky, and cool-looking multi-coloured sweaters, including red ones, and blue ones. And when he decides to dress formal, he dresses formal with amazing style. He wears clean and well-ironed shirts, couples them with very elegant-looking ties. He wears trousers with irreprehensible crease, and jackets of extremely fine cut and irreproachable fit. To put it in short, he dresses immaculately. There is, however, one basic flaw with his dressing style, and that is the fact that along with such gentlemanly attire, he wears Nike sneakers. And not just ordinary Nike sneakers, but extremely colorful Nike sneakers. White ones, with a hint of brown and black, and a large Nike logo in blue emblazoned on both sides of both shoes. I do not mean to criticize his dress-sense here, but the sneakers just don't go.

But then, he is Dev Anand, and if he can't pull them off, who can?