Ahmed Javed-Severus Snape of Paragon?

“Hello! My name is Ahmed Javed and before we begin any learning, I want you to do two things. Firstly, if you ever feel suicidal, with no motivation to live…..text me and I’ll call back….have my permission to carry on if you still aren’t convinced. Secondly, on the very first page of your notebooks, write ‘I have an A* in A-Level Economics’”
This very sentence marked the beginning of our beloved economics class which had its ups and downs but was truly one of the most memorable ones.
“Every intelligent kid has an ego associated with their intelligence. Since they are habitual of receiving praise and admiration for their grades, take that away from them and they will have no idea what they are doing in life. You will realize this overtime during this class”.
This sounds hilarious, doesn’t it? I mean an ‘ego’? Since I was one of those few whom he was referring to in this situation, I let out a small smirk after hearing this. I am brilliant in sports, with a passion for reading books and generally fairly competitive in everything done at school ranging from Aviation competitions to social welfare projects. Immediately, his dialogue reminded me of one of our Math teachers from the past who generally tried to impose his control on the class by passing such ‘controversial’ remarks. Maybe Sir Ahmed is young (maybe just ten years older than us) and is also trying to tighten his grip on the class’ discipline? Therefore, being someone who never considered himself egoistic, I was quick to ignore this statement but what was to unfold was nothing less than a nightmare.
A month into the class, we had our first assessment, an MCQ quiz based on one of the simplest topics, earning a well-deserved ‘A’ which would set the tone for the year that followed. Was it this grade that laid the ground for what happened next? Or maybe I showed-off? Or did the teacher notice something in me that I wasn’t aware of? Till this very day, I am clueless as in the midterm examination of A1, the teacher who I liked turned into my public enemy number one. With a super difficult paper accompanied by less preparation from my side due to personal reasons, I managed to achieve a ‘B’ grade while almost half of the class failed the paper. Only one girl, Sarah Asif, earned herself an A. However, guess who was the target during the “angry post-mid” class? Yes! It was me! In a class of 120 minutes, I was ‘lucky’ enough to be the center of everyone’s attention for 70 minutes, standing throughout the scolding session as Sir revealed his ugly side. Normally, I would be complaining of having to stand so long but at that particular moment, my legs were trembling. Caught in a state of confusion and horror, I could not apprehend what was happening. The eyes of the other students staring at me, some of them felt sympathetic, others enjoyed the scene as the person who’s example teachers used to give, was now facing the ‘hairdryer’ treatment at the hands of the teacher who isn’t even punishing them for getting worse marks.
The last time I ever got scolded was back in class 6 after my fist-fight with Fahar and well they are right that practice makes you better. If I was accustomed to such treatment from teachers, maybe I wouldn’t have hyper-ventilated as I did? I lost my focus, unable to answer the questions he was throwing, grabbing the edge of the table to help me keep balance, facing the ground, guilt, and fear preventing my brain to command the nerves to straighten my head and directly face the teacher who was talking to me. Suddenly, I was forced to raise my head as Sir diverted my attention back to himself with a finger snap exclaiming, “itna ghusa aa Raha hay to mujhay bolo kay kya main ghalat bol Raha hoon?” While he assumed I am getting angry with his rebuke, I was just busy thinking when he would move on to the next person or when the lesson would end. After he was done telling me how ‘wonderful’ I was, he moved onto the next person and then the class quickly finished. Naturally, while the news of my encounter spread like a forest fire across the campus, my friends gathered around and to let go of our frustration, started backbiting Sir with some ‘wonderful’ words of our own. Eventually, rather than pondering over his comments, we decided to forget about it by claiming maybe Sir came from his home with a bad mood.
But life does not work in such a simple way. Remember how Snape would be more than willing to single out Harry for every minor problem, ensuring he lived a miserable life? Sir Ahmed was nothing less than that as every class would feature a 15–20 mins session on how bad I am, killing my spirit and motivation to keep on studying economics. One day, he abruptly claimed, “If you are so hurt by my words, prove me wrong”. What followed was a result of my sensitive side and habit of arriving at conclusions quickly. Ten minutes after the class, I was sitting with Fahar talking about dropping Economics and ten minutes later, I went straight to Sir Ajmal and grabbed the “AS REGISTRATION” form. He wanted me to prove him wrong right? Well, I decided that I will let my actions prove him wrong! For a person with no prior experience of economics, overburdened with five subjects, additional duties of the Student Council, crippling confidence, and doubt of the teacher accompanied by the uncooperative behavior of the school made it nothing less than the stupidest decision I ever made.
Next, we had the PTM in February end and I was grateful that I did well in that month’s assessment to be on the good side of the teacher. Before it began, I met him and asked if he has any complaints with me to which he smiled and denied that he would be launching complaints to my parents. However, I still didn’t trust him and decided to make sure my dad doesn’t meet him as he would’ve been astonished to hear I lack nerves of steel-something common in our family. Thus, I immediately took my mom to Sir Ahmed Javed while my dad was busy parking the car. The meeting began on a nice note with Sir acknowledging my good performance and mannerism but like a typical Pakistani drama, this was bound to have an unexplainable twist.
Sir: I am happy with him but I wanted to ask what’s the problem with him and where’s his father?
Me: Abu…….
Mummy: What do you mean? His father is parking the car.
While I intended to answer the question where my father is and stopped speaking out of respect for my mother, Sir thought I lost my cool once again and accidentally called him ‘Abu”.
Sir: Main yehi baat kar raha hoon deekhain kaisay ghabra gaya hay. Mujhay hi Abu bol diya. Beta main koi jin baba hoon? Bhoot hoon? Masla kya hay? Dartay kyun ho? Batao? Bolo?
So, even on the PTM, I wasn’t spared as I was speechless against the bouncers he bowled and when we left the room, my mom immediately turned to me and said, “If he is so blunt and aggressive with you in front of me, what does he do in class?” Despite a part inside me eagerly jumping to tell her everything, I decided to keep this matter between Sir and me only, by laughing off at this statement. Nevertheless, I still remember how everyone would make fun, in Nursery class, when you would accidentally call the teacher “Mummy” and here an 18-year-old adult called his teacher “Abu”. I just prayed he won’t share details of this event in class and much to my surprise he didn’t (respect for that as the banter from this event could be limitless).
Months passed and on the day of the AS result, our economics class was an hour before the results arrived. And it was one of the regular “bezati sessions” with Sir putting my ‘C’ grade in the school finals the subject of his speech. “Tumhari tayari thi kya jab sab Kuch parh kay, AS ka paper day kar bhi tum nay yeh Chankana bajaya hay meray paper main”, shouted Sir Ahmed Javed. With the anxiety of the result, coupled with Sir’s characteristic insults, I faced emotions that could not be described. I was thinking about how I will come to class tomorrow if my result was not up to the mark?
“Head boy Cha gayay ho”, Sir exclaimed with a rare smile depicting satisfaction and his approval of my growth over time. After that ‘A’ grade in AS, relations with Sir turned altogether with the hostility turning into a mutual bond of respect and ability to bear the banter sessions. The very next day, in class, Sir made me the center of attention, praising me for the first ten minutes (felt weird) followed by the accustomed banter session questioning “Is ko Head boy kis nay banaya?” Now, his comments did not get to my head, realizing that he isn’t the obnoxious, eccentric ‘monster’ I believed him to be as it was his very own method to help me get over my shortcomings, aiming to make me a better person for the future. The sudden change in my personality caught him off-guard too as my laughs at the banter sessions would compel him to reply, “Yeh Kitna besharam ho Gaya hay!”
If you think this was the only thing that made him distinctive amongst all the teachers, well you may be wrong. He was an excellent motivator! While initially, I used to touch topics related to low motivation and self-esteem on purpose so he continues talking, consuming the scarce time we had to study by delivering a speech on why we are wrong. Later his speeches touched the heart and an overly-excited Faaiz would take notes of everything he ever said, recreating the whole scenario in my head, realizing that he is spot-on in his analysis. Upon his insistence, I got accustomed to some of the motivational speakers as well as realizing that the motivation I achieve after watching 5-minute long Facebook videos is misguided and does not serve the purpose I intended on seeking. Eventually, I came across a situation where the lessons he taught on motivation came to my aid as I potentially saved a life! It sounds crazy, but believe me, it was spontaneous and unexpected plus left a scar on my personality too. Imagine you’re sitting on a stair, patiently waiting for your Uber to go back home while munching down shawarma you got from Jalal Sons and a girl from your class suddenly asks if she can sit down too as she’s waiting for her dad. You are acquaintances with her and after the typical initial conversation starters, she looks at you directly in the eyes and swears upon her mother that she will commit suicide tomorrow night!
My mouth was left open, the shawarma hardly centimeters away from me, eyes fixed at the person next to me, explaining all her grievances from life, leaving me perplexed. Later she started crying and I had no idea what to do except for saying “Sorry” (mummy says that this word helps heal people and saying it shouldn’t be hard even if it isn’t your fault) and she started laughing by asking why am I saying that? We continued the chat by pointing out all the good things in her life, why she should be grateful, and honestly admitted that some of the qualities she possesses are unique, and even I want to have them. The stream of tears eventually stopped and she started to listen to the points I was eager to raise. Eventually, her dad arrived and she left. Throughout the day we exchanged text messages continuing with her story, with her intentions becoming firmer with every passing hour. Eventually, I asked Sir Ahmed on her behalf if he can talk to her. The next day the meeting took place and I can proudly tell you that she is living her life to the fullest, letting go of the past to embrace a better future. SIR IF YOU ARE READING THIS, YOU ARE AN ANGEL BECAUSE OF THIS!
Finally, with our A-Level result, I entered a phase of minor seclusion, avoiding everyone as the result was not the one I imagined. With most of my friends busy celebrating or mourning over their results, no one was aware of the situation I was going through. One day, during the evening I got a call from Ahmed (since half of my phone screen was broken, I thought its Ahmed Bilal or Raja) and I casually answered, “Haan Ahmed Kya Hua?” In reply, a relatively heavier voice replied, “Head boy bhul Bhi gayay mujhay?” It was Sir Ahmed! Immediately, I thought he was going to thrash me on the phone for getting a ‘B’ in his subject but he calmly said, “I am not here to embarrass you, just wanted to talk”. With a sigh of relief, we began talking with Sir trying his best to get me out of this state of minor depression. He kept on emphasizing that the grade you get does not represent your capability or your intelligence. Moreover, it is not even needed anywhere as once you go to college, it is deemed irrelevant. My inner consciousness was telling me it’s a lie as he’s only trying to make me feel better but later he confessed he got almost the same grades as mine in A-Level and that revelation changed the whole way I treated his conversation. Previously, he had never admitted or confessed this truth. For a person who hardly had time to reply to my texts, had a conversation of more than forty minutes on the phone with one of his students who didn’t come up to his expectations? That was new!
For a person who instantly identified my illness with 3 questions, a person who was hated and loved to both extremes, a person who is (as I may phrase my little brother) “itnay ghusay wallay kay cricket kheltay Huay banda maar dain gay”, a person who’s controversial views sometimes catch you off-guard, he has proved to be without doubt one of the most influential personalities in life. Whether it was the decision to come to LUMS after his “ROR” calculation of foreign degree to my decision of choosing Economics as my future field over C.A, his ideas and views have been fairly pivotal and taken into consideration and my mother blames him for my decision to change my future profession.
In life, you will come across many people. It is utterly stupid to believe that every person who meets you with a smile is your friend and it is stupider to think that someone who criticizes you is your enemy. Sometimes, people who criticize you are those who actually want you to improve as a person, overcoming some of the flaws you may not be aware of. And not everyone has the same personality as some are relatively hardcore, not expressing their support openly. Like Harry discovered at the very end that Snape was the person everyone dreams of having by their side, the situation was fairly similar, as the benefits of his teachings surfacing once I had reached university. Therefore, if you ever come across someone who places his focus on you and pushes you to your very limit, you will be nothing less than a jerk to quit, choosing an easier option for the short run only to suffer in the long run. Even with friends, only your close ones who care for you would have the courage to correct you at your faults while the ‘fake’ friends would even appreciate even if you end up committing something utterly stupid or embarrassing. Even today, while attempting Zahid Ali’s Intermacro MCQ paper, a voice inside my head says, “Head boy! Yeh pages blank bhejnay kay marks nahi miltay! Likho in par workings Karo!” and I silently whisper, “SORRY SIR!”

I pray all of you to get such friends and teachers who want to make you better!

*this story represents my side, my opinions, my assumptions and perceptions*