1. Black Hat
Colonel Heather taught chemistry at Aligarh Muslim University. My father sat in the front row when classes began.
“He used to call on me,” my father said.
“Even back then,” he said, “there were people who were envious if you were smart, if you knew the answers. (I think you have this now.)”
And you see, my father was smart. He knew the answers. Colonel Heather was clearly aware of this and called on him in the front row. So seeking to avoid the scorn of his fellow students, my father moved to the back.
But this did no good. Colonel Heather would still call on him.
“Black hat!” he would shout, pointing to my father in the back, seeking the answer to some question.
“We all wore sherwanis at Aligarh,” my father explained. “And I wore a black hat that was stained from the oil we used to put in our hair.”
2. Final Exam
For the end-of-year lab exam in chemistry, the students had to analyze some salts.
I picture them standing at the counter with test tubes and beakers and solutions of stuff, trying to figure out what was in the sample they were given. I imagine that there was a time limit on the test, so they were all in a rush.
My father was doing a desiccation when he dropped his sample and broke the glass on the floor. His analysis was ruined.
Colonel Heather came up to him and put his hand on my father’s shoulder. “Damn!” Heather said, “What did you do!?”
“But Heather must have put in a good word for me,” my father said, “because I got good marks, anyway.”
Because Heather knew that my father knew the answers.
Update: I got the Colonel’s name wrong. His name was Haider, not Heather. Perils of oral history. My bad.