School and punishment

On social media, almost every day I get messages from my childhood friends that romanticise our early days. The memories of three friends riding on one bicycle, bathing in the canal, visiting the village fair, etc. make us nostalgic. The fun and frolics of childhood are the topic whenever we meet in person. But the hardships, and scarcity we faced in those days are rarely spoken about. My memory of the past is peppered with all the tough times I went through; it is not always rosy. Things we take for granted now—basic amenities like bicycles and electric fans—were considered luxuries. Sweets were only brought into homes during festivals.

As children, we were subjected to corporal punishment at school as well as at home—many times without any valid reason.

A few days ago, I heard that one of our school teachers had passed away. Though I had not heard about him for a long time, his death reminded me of one particular incident I was subjected to in the seventh or eighth grade. He taught us Hindi, and during one house examination, I wrote my name in English on the Hindi answer sheet. Back then, teachers handed over the answer sheets after correcting them to us, and we had to get them signed by our parents.

The teacher distributed the sheets, and in the end, he called me and started beating me with a stick on my back, and his rage did not subside even after the stick broke. In his enraged state, he kept repeating, "Why did you write your name in English on the answer book of Hindi? You tried to put a blot on our language."

I was weeping and begging him to be spared, but he beat me till he got tired. He gave me zero marks on the paper and asked me to get the paper signed by my father. The thrashing was so severe that I could hardly straighten my back. I was creeping home from school. Back then, not all parents spoiled their children, and neither did my parents. My sorry state was barely noticed at home. Moreover, my biggest worry was not my pain but how to get the paper signed.

I couldn't stand the next morning, and my back was badly bruised. Only after that was I asked why. I wept and narrated the whole incident, with some hesitation. My father thought for a while and said, "Teachers do not wish bad for their students, and next time you take care to avoid these silly mistakes. I could not go to school to complain about that teacher." That was that, and after a few days, everything was back to normal.

In those days, there was no room for pacifying hurt egos and so on. The incident is stuck in my mind only because I was beaten excessively without any reason. Otherwise teachers beating their students was common and normal. No eyebrows were raised.

The incident didn’t scar me for life or fill me with bitterness; it in fact evokes a smile now. Despite all hardships, we reminisce about the time we spent in school and the beatings we recieved.