It has been there for decades now.Ask the prof.He knows that.It is older than him.But its is seniority denied.A mute spectator of years and years of boring academia.If you thought that sitting for 48 minutes in an economics lecture was boring,imagine doing that for four long decades.Every single inch of its body is covered in chalk dust.Its framed edges are cracked.With some sides even sporting painfully etched hearts.But not a word it utters,not a sigh occassionally, or a grumble in between.It watches patiently as it has been doin for years.
My poor prof keeps droning on about micro and macro (economics),while we wander off into our sylvan world of daydreams.HE does not care.But it does.For it keeps on looking at each one of us sternly with disapproval.It knows of everything that has been taught,and of everything yet to be taught.It knows of poetry,Keats and Frost lie absorbed in it.Mathematics.Thousands of sums ahve been scrawled on its smooth black surface,only to be rubbed off and written on again.It has not missed a single lecture since it was hung in place.
History,it excels in.Every love story inside the class has taken place in front of its invisible eyes.Every clandestine meetings it knows of.It knows about the unspoken crush,and about the spoken ones that have been crushed.It knows of flings that lasted till the spring and of longer ones that endured winter.Secret meetings in an empty classroom are not possible as long a it is witness to them.But it is the most trusted secret keeper.It wont speak a word,or break anybody's heart.
It is omniscient.It knows who throws airplane onto the prof's back while he scrawls on the board.It also knows who copied from the front bencher during the examination.It has eyes that keep prying.The examiner can miss the culprit,but the culprit is not missed.But its benevolent heart won't allow it to disclose that information to the examiner.That would destroy a career.
Itis like that vast accumulation of knowledge that lies just behind you,but you never notice it.It is like that black pearl covered in chalk dust.Invisible to ordinary eyes,except those that ask earnestly.If keats was a college going student,his next ode would have included it.Alas,for the boorish human mind,it has no worth.Why you ask? Whenever my prof asks me an unanswerable question,he rebukes me with " Your mind is as empty as that blackboard".How i wish he was true.Except that the blackboard is so full that it can't reveal.Just like me.