In an exclusive interview for TBS Graduates’ podcast series, the dejected, disappointed, and fat Mr Raihan sat down with our coordinator, Ahsan Mahi.

Mahi: Assalamualaikum, how are you, Supreme Leader?

President Raihan: For the last few weeks, I’ve been better.

Mahi: Weren’t you good before?

Taking a deep breath, the president replies.

President Raihan: For the past year, I have been out of the limelight. Odd, isn’t it? I am the president, for God’s sake. Wasn’t the limelight supposed to be created only for me? So, yeah, not very good.

Mahi: It would be great if you could elaborate a bit more.

President Raihan: Where should I even begin? You come into a club dreaming about becoming its president one day, you go through thousands of hours of irrelevant workshops, activities, and useless networking sessions, you kiss up to your seniors, and when all things are set in motion, when it is you upon the mountaintop, the perks that seemed so attractive fade away, and the title that is left seems useless altogether.

Mahi: Can I ask who is making your life so difficult?

President Raihan: Well, the immediate suspects are my juniors, the next crop, so to speak. During my comeuppance, they were the ones leading the charge by campaigning for me, but when I finally got here, it is they who are mired in conspiracy, not to mention the plethora of disobedience and disrespect they show towards their Supreme Leader.

Mahi: Do you really feel no one supports you?

President Raihan: No, I wouldn’t say that. Some actually do. Surprisingly, my competition’s panel members are suddenly standing by my side. Maybe they have seen that I’m not comfortable talking to my close juniors anymore, so they see a way in. But it’s not the same as when I saw my seniors enjoy the presidency. I expected more.

Mahi: Have you tried to ignore it and enjoy the presidency?

President Raihan: Sometimes I have. I’m at the end of my campus life. As I work on my fifth AI-written thesis draft, I understand that time is extremely limited.

Also, I’ve noticed that, while trying to hit on some pretty freshers, it doesn’t resonate like it used to.

During my second or third year, when freshers would feel I had a pull in the club, they would certainly come close, but now I feel I am just a creepy uncle desperately looking for attention. They understand I’m on my way out, and they would rather get close to my immediate juniors than their Supreme Leader.

Mahi: Life truly is lonely at the top, right?

President Raihan: Yes, peasant, you have no idea. Even the club moderator looks at me like yesterday’s news.

Amar ar valo lage na.

All this neglect has had an effect on my health. I sometimes even encounter a salam-less corridor walk, and my thesis supervisor’s hatred while reading my draft says it all. I am now at the tail end of my clubbing career.

They have also taken away my press rights. I can’t even congratulate my juniors’ achievement of coming fifth at a locally irrelevant corporate competition. And I fear the club’s Facebook page access will also be removed soon.

Mahi: Don’t be sad, dear Supreme Leader. We’ll always remember this conversation, even if the ungratefuls forget you.

To know about the rise of Mr. Raihan as a club president, read: https://tbsgraduates.net/writeup/satire/the-short-glorious-life-of-a-university-club-president/