AKU makes all its students meet the school counsellor once a year, to
ensure that our noggins are fit as fiddles. First years have to take
some psych tests before meeting the counsellor, an extremely delightful and
ever-smiling lady. The following is an excerpt from my interview with
her:
(P)sychologist: Soooo...What do you think of girls?
(M)e: *Baffled look* Ummm... What do you mean?
P: Do you like them?
(Tread carefully here, Faysal. These shrinks start off all blue-eyed but then descend to prove that you have an Oedipus Complex.)
M: Of course!
P: How much?
M: A lot.
P: Haan, but how much?
M: Like a lot a lot.
P: Why?
M: *Incredulous look* Why?
(Because they're there. Duh.)
P: Yes, why do you think you like girls so much?
M: Oh. That's easy. Hormones, of course. Plenty of them.
P: Hahahaha. I know that, but why?
(Because when a Papa bird meets and likes a Mama bird... Darnit, what does she want from me? The birds and the bees talk? A class on the four F's? I thought we weren't allowed to question evolutionary biology anymore! )
M: Because...
P:Acha, so tell me what kind of girls do you like?
(This must be a trick question. What am I supposed to say? Redheads, Blondes, Brunettes? Or do I be more graphic? I've heard these psychologists love it when you get all Freudian. Someone "untie" me from this chair and get me out of here!)
M:What do you mean?
(That's right, keep playing dumb.)
P: Ok, do you like introverts or extroverts?
M: Oh. Right. Uhh, introverts i guess.
P: Yes, I thought you'd say that. So Faysal, I'm sure a guy like you has had tons of girlfriends over the past.
(Are you kidding me, woman? Moi and the Ladies? Itchy and Scratchy got along better!)
M: Haha. Yeah right. I wish.
P: Come on, you must have had at least one.
(Not counting the lovely and unfortunately always-getting-conveniently-
M: Nope, not even one.
P: Why not?
M: Because it's not allowed in Islam
(Or at least that's how I console myself)
P: Ok, here's a scenario: what if there was one girl out there who said, 'Bas mujhe Faysal chahiye'. And she let you know that. What would you do?
(Well, then that girl is probably from a cannibalistic tribe on an island in the South Pacific yet to be discovered by the outside world. Or is that too much to hope for?)
M: Ma'am, the possibility of that is so remote, It's never crossed my mind.
P: But how would you deal with such a situation, if it ever did arise?
(Just then, the ruling Junta of neurons in my brain's logic centre immediately quashed any talk of a revolution by the freethinking neurons in the imagination centre. Or as they were better known: 'those damn hippies'. *Insert any '1984' or 'Farenheit 451' quote here*)
M: I don't think my mind comprehends such a possibility.
(That's right, repeat that in your best robot voice.)
P: I see. Dekho Faysal, my report says that you think too much about girls.
M: Alhamdulillah-wait, that's a good thing right?
P: No.
M: Oh.
P: So stop it.
M: Ok.
P: Did you hear me?
M: *Snaps out of it* Sorry, I think I was day dreaming there. Thinking about a fantasy date I'll be having later today with a girl from a cannibalistic tribe on an island in the South Pacific yet to be discovered by the outside world.
With the exception of the last two lines, which are just plain wishful thinking, all of the above conversation is true, word for word.
It's one thing knowing you're virile (to be politically correct). And it's completely another thing being told so by someone with a Bachelor's degree who specializes in identifying such traits. After all, that was the take-home message, wasn't it?
(P)sychologist: Soooo...What do you think of girls?
(M)e: *Baffled look* Ummm... What do you mean?
P: Do you like them?
(Tread carefully here, Faysal. These shrinks start off all blue-eyed but then descend to prove that you have an Oedipus Complex.)
M: Of course!
P: How much?
M: A lot.
P: Haan, but how much?
M: Like a lot a lot.
P: Why?
M: *Incredulous look* Why?
(Because they're there. Duh.)
P: Yes, why do you think you like girls so much?
M: Oh. That's easy. Hormones, of course. Plenty of them.
P: Hahahaha. I know that, but why?
(Because when a Papa bird meets and likes a Mama bird... Darnit, what does she want from me? The birds and the bees talk? A class on the four F's? I thought we weren't allowed to question evolutionary biology anymore! )
M: Because...
P:Acha, so tell me what kind of girls do you like?
(This must be a trick question. What am I supposed to say? Redheads, Blondes, Brunettes? Or do I be more graphic? I've heard these psychologists love it when you get all Freudian. Someone "untie" me from this chair and get me out of here!)
M:What do you mean?
(That's right, keep playing dumb.)
P: Ok, do you like introverts or extroverts?
M: Oh. Right. Uhh, introverts i guess.
P: Yes, I thought you'd say that. So Faysal, I'm sure a guy like you has had tons of girlfriends over the past.
(Are you kidding me, woman? Moi and the Ladies? Itchy and Scratchy got along better!)
M: Haha. Yeah right. I wish.
P: Come on, you must have had at least one.
(Not counting the lovely and unfortunately always-getting-conveniently-
M: Nope, not even one.
P: Why not?
M: Because it's not allowed in Islam
(Or at least that's how I console myself)
P: Ok, here's a scenario: what if there was one girl out there who said, 'Bas mujhe Faysal chahiye'. And she let you know that. What would you do?
(Well, then that girl is probably from a cannibalistic tribe on an island in the South Pacific yet to be discovered by the outside world. Or is that too much to hope for?)
M: Ma'am, the possibility of that is so remote, It's never crossed my mind.
P: But how would you deal with such a situation, if it ever did arise?
(Just then, the ruling Junta of neurons in my brain's logic centre immediately quashed any talk of a revolution by the freethinking neurons in the imagination centre. Or as they were better known: 'those damn hippies'. *Insert any '1984' or 'Farenheit 451' quote here*)
M: I don't think my mind comprehends such a possibility.
(That's right, repeat that in your best robot voice.)
P: I see. Dekho Faysal, my report says that you think too much about girls.
M: Alhamdulillah-wait, that's a good thing right?
P: No.
M: Oh.
P: So stop it.
M: Ok.
P: Did you hear me?
M: *Snaps out of it* Sorry, I think I was day dreaming there. Thinking about a fantasy date I'll be having later today with a girl from a cannibalistic tribe on an island in the South Pacific yet to be discovered by the outside world.
With the exception of the last two lines, which are just plain wishful thinking, all of the above conversation is true, word for word.
It's one thing knowing you're virile (to be politically correct). And it's completely another thing being told so by someone with a Bachelor's degree who specializes in identifying such traits. After all, that was the take-home message, wasn't it?
