Professor

A friend and I were sitting and reminiscing about our medical school days. Arif was talking about oral exams, or vivas, which all medical students are required to take at the end of each year. Vivas are, or they used to be, the bane of a medical student's existence. There were usually two or three examiners, one external, from an outside institution, and one or more internals who would all be sitting behind a desk waiting for you as you walked into the room. The external would usually begin the questions and after a few minutes, which either went by very fast, if you knew your subject, or painfully slow, if you didn't, the internal examiners would take over. The whole process was fairly subjective and very stressful and we all dreaded it.

"I remember when my wife was going in for her final year surgery exam," Arif said. "She walked into the room and sat down. The internal asked her name and then asked the external examiner to start the viva."

"Saniya was very nervous. We had just got married two days before and with the wedding and everything, she hadn't had much chance to prepare. You remember how brutal those surgery vivas could be. It was like those surgeons were operating on you!"

"So she sits down and waits for the examiner to start questioning her. He's an old man, a professor from a big medical school, dressed in an immaculate suit and tie, like the old British surgeons. The examiner looks at her hands and asks her "What's this?"

"Mehndi, sir," she tells him. "I got married two days ago."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the exam, sir."

"No you're not," he says. "Hogaya exam! Chalo bhago yahan se!" (We're done! The exam's over!)"

Arif grins. "She passed."