Creation and Criticism

Dr Abnish Singh Chauhan/ अवनीश सिंह चौहान (b. 1979) is a bilingual poet, short story writer, critic, translator and editor of Poorvabhas and Creation and Criticism. He has authored/edited 15 books, including two collections of poetry and a book on poetry translation, and contributed over 100 articles, book reviews, and research papers to prominent journals, magazines, and newspapers in Hindi and English. Currently, he is a Professor and Founding Head, Department of English, as well as Founding Principal of BIU College of Humanities and Journalism at Bareilly International University, Bareilly, Uttar Pradesh, India. He can be reached at abnishsinghchauhan@gmail.com.

Received on March 09, 2024; Accepted on May 15, 2024. Available online: Oct 10, 2024. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License

“Are you Dr. Vishal?” someone asked over the phone.

“Yes, I’m Dr. Vishal. Please go ahead.”

The voice continued, “I’m Nagesh from the HR department at DON University, Noida. Your resume has been shortlisted for an interview with us.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Your interview is scheduled online for Monday at 11:00 AM. Will you be comfortable attending the session virtually on that day?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Great, Dr. Vishal. I’ll share the Google Meet link with you shortly. Best of luck.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The call ended.

Dr. Vishal leaned back, recalling the day he had come across an advertisement in the newspaper for the position of Professor and Head of the Department of English at this reputed private university. He remembered promptly sending his application to the Registrar the same day.

On Monday at 11:00 AM, as instructed, Dr. Vishal joined the virtual meeting. He greeted the interview panel, noting with some surprise that the Chancellor himself was presiding over the session.

The Chancellor adjusted his spectacles, looked at Dr Vishal, and without engaging in the usual pleasantries, jumped straight to the first question: “How many students are there in your university?”

Taken aback by the abrupt start, Dr Vishal responded, “I’m not sure of the exact number, sir, but I believe it’s around 4000 at present.”

The Chancellor nodded curtly and asked, “How many students are there in the Department of English?”

“Twenty, sir,” Dr Vishal replied truthfully.

“A very small number,” the Chancellor remarked, his tone cold.

“Sir, our department also teaches students from various disciplines, including Journalism and Mass Communication, Engineering, Management, Commerce, Pharmacy, and Nursing,” Dr Vishal added.

The Chancellor asked, “So, what exactly are you doing as a Professor and Head of the Department?”

“Teaching students of various programmes and guiding the PhD students,” he replied, attempting to clarify.

The Chancellor’s expression darkened. He leaned forward, his tone sharp. “Don’t you know that in private universities, professors and heads— everyone has to do everything? Academics are one thing, but admissions are what truly matter. Bring in students, and you get paid.” He opened his mouth to say more but paused, as though reconsidering.

Dr Vishal responded calmly, “With all due respect, sir, are you looking for a Professor, or a Director of the Admission Cell?”

A thick silence filled the air. The Chancellor, clearly startled by the directness of the question, frowned and abruptly closed his laptop. Without a word, he left the meeting. The other members of the panel, perhaps adhering to some unspoken protocol, followed him silently, not sparing a glance.

To this day, Dr Vishal reflects on the encounter, still unsure— was the Chancellor truly wise, or merely adept at avoiding uncomfortable truths?