IN our times, teachers were treated with awe and respect. They were ‘gurus’ in the real sense and the only windows to the world, successfully arousing our curiosity and yearning to know more.
There were a few who never scolded us and forgave all our pranks, but most of them taught us literally with a strong hand. The teacher’s hand was always with us, either showering blessings or spankings. None was spared, not even their own. Parents also supported the ‘noble cause’ of straightening us up. We dared not come home and talk about the beating received. It was a common belief that the most potent catalyst for quick learning was the cane. I remember our social studies massaab showering dandas all over a boy and repeating with every strike, ‘Will you again forget to complete your homework?’
We had a real gifted drawing teacher who loved his craft and zealously wanted us all to learn. He loved teaching us more than what was in the syllabus. At the same time, he had taken upon himself the mantle of maintaining discipline in the school. To set an errant boy right, he would insert a pencil in between the fingers and then hold his hand. The boy would jump up and down, pleading forgiveness.
There was a motley group in my class from the rural background. Tall and well built, some of them stood taller than the teachers. It would be hilarious to see a teacher ordering the student to bend down a little so that he could slap him. One was from a family of dairy farmers. Before coming to school, he would have already cycled around 25-30 km, going house to house with large cans of milk loaded on either side. He was tall, had a languid gait and sleepy eyes, as if waiting for the school to end and to rush home for a siesta and to relax his tired limbs. He never did mind punishment and would mechanically extend his hands to receive the cane without exhibiting any pain.
There also was this jovial group from a nearby village called Bajeedpur. They would laugh off every punishment. Once, Shastriji, an affable and respected senior Hindi teacher, got annoyed with one of them for showing the previous day’s workbook after clumsily erasing his signatures. The class was being held in the open ground. The boy started running around, with poor Shastriji unable to chase him. Shastriji was ordering him to stop, and the boy, to the amusement of others, said, ‘Mein saag te lassi naije lae ke auni pher!’
Out of breath, Shastriji fell into his chair, held the mulberry cane high in his hand and called, ‘Maar bhi padegi aur kal saag, lassi ke sath ganne bhi laane padenge’, and signalled two students to catch the boy.
