by Chandramohan Nair
‘Boys, what are two adjectives that best describe Wackford Squeers?’ Father Joseph posed the question to his tenth standard class. He was a barrel-chested man of medium height, full of energy and enthusiasm.
‘Avaricious and sadistic,’ said Kumar, a studious and thoughtful boy who was also the class monitor.
‘Excellent. Avaricious indicates his greed for money and sadistic describes the way he mercilessly beat and exploited the boys at Dotheboys Hall. See how skillfully Dickens has depicted Squeers’ character in contrast to the idealistic portrayal of Nicholas. It’s the eternal black-and-white view of evil versus good.‘
It was the last day in school for the class before they broke for their study leave ahead of the tenth board examinations. Father Joseph was their class teacher as well as their English teacher. They were revising the English supplementary text – Charles Dickens’ novel Nicholas Nickleby.
‘Father, aren’t all teachers who beat their pupils sadistic?’ enquired Kumar, with a furrowed brow.
Father Joseph, surprised by the question, took some time before answering.
‘Kumar, if the punishment is meted out to satisfy the teacher’s ego then he is being sadistic. If the intent is to discipline or reform the student, then the teacher is just being strict.’ There was an assertive tone to his voice.
Father Joseph moved on to cover other aspects of their English syllabus while Kumar, seemingly not convinced by the answer, remained lost in thought.
He was glad that he would be done with his school by the end of the day. It was a boy’s school that had been reputable once, then drifting into mediocrity, was now in the midst of a resurrection under a new management. The school had some commendable features – it was located in the heart of the city and had good infrastructure, but Kumar was ill at ease with the patriarchal and sometimes harsh air of authority that pervaded the school. The teachers favoured learning by rote and caning was common especially in the junior classes. Kumar felt that the punishment was often unnecessary and arbitrary as most students were generally attentive and well-behaved.
Father Joseph was an exception. He taught with passion and brought alive the characters in the stories and novels prescribed in their English syllabus. He was imperious but never resorted to punishment beyond the occasional imposition. The students loved his class. They were in awe of him.
Father Joseph was wrapping up the morning session.
‘Boys, you have been a good bunch and I am proud of you. I am sure you will clear the board examinations with flying colours. Always remember that in addition to being good students you need to be good human beings too. I wish you the best not just for the examinations but for the life that lies ahead of you.’
He spoke with emotion and shook hands with each of the boys before leaving the class.
There was a games period scheduled for the afternoon just to keep the students occupied till the evening bell. Their regular games master – a large man famous for bellowing instructions during the exercises before the games – was on leave and a new master from the junior school faculty was to be in charge of the period.
After lunch, the boys walked over to the brown-soiled ground at the back of the school. Football and basketball were their favourite games and they looked forward to one last lively session of play before they left school.
They were surprised when they saw the new master – a stylishly dressed young man who looked more like a poet than a games master. With a self-conscious smile he asked them to stand in line.
‘Sundara Kuttappan.’
It was a comment that came from one end of the line.
Kumar recognized Shashi’s voice. Shashi was one of the easy-going back-benchers in the class. The comment carried a hint of a taunt, but it appeared more an attempt to elicit a cheap laugh. There were chuckles all around. The class seemed in agreement that the master was indeed a pretty little boy. The teacher’s face reddened, and he struggled to maintain composure.
Kumar came to his rescue.
‘Sir, you know that today is our last day in school. Can we skip the exercises and go straight to the games?’ he requested.
The relieved young teacher signalled his assent, mumbled some best wishes and beat a hasty retreat to the staff-room.
‘Shashi, whatever made you utter that silly remark?’ asked Kumar, clearly annoyed.
Shashi, a bit of a dandy himself, just shrugged his shoulders.
The boys quickly forgot about the incident and were soon completely absorbed in enjoying their last games period.
It took the evening bell to bring them back to earth and they rushed off to the classroom to collect their bags and head for their homes.
Father Joseph was waiting for them in class. His face was smouldering. He waited for them to take their seats.
‘Boys, I was told just now by the junior school games master that one of you made a most impertinent comment about him during the games period. It reflects poorly both on the class and on me.’ There was anger and disappointment in his voice.
‘I want the culprit to stand up, admit his wrongdoing and accept the punishment.’
The class was taken aback. It was a disrespectful comment, but they hadn’t expected the games teacher to be a cry-baby and make a formal complaint to Father Joseph.
Everyone turned their eyes on Shashi. For a moment it looked like he would own up, but he kept sitting quietly. There was a long silence.
‘It appears that the offender either does not have the courage to own up or does not repent what he has done. Since you were all witnesses, I want anyone in the class to name him. Remember there is no virtue in keeping quiet when the honour of the class is at stake,’ Father Joseph said, looking intently at the class.
Kumar thought the Father’s eyes lingered on him longer than on the rest of the class. He saw many of his classmates looking at him in expectation. After all, he was the class monitor. He looked at Shashi with resentment – he should have owned up like a man and not put the class in this predicament. Kumar was not at all comfortable with the idea of squealing on a classmate – it went against the unwritten schoolboy code of honour. He hoped that Father Joseph would by now have figured out that Shashi was the culprit and would confront him.
Kumar decided to keep quiet and as if on cue, the rest of the class too remained silent.
Father Joseph surveyed the class. He went out of the classroom. When he came back he had a cane in his hand and a resolute look in his eyes.
‘Boys, I am terribly disappointed. I think I have failed in instilling values of honesty, honour and contrition in you. I had expected at least one of you to speak out. I now consider all of you as party to this misbehaviour and I have no option but to punish the entire class.’
The class couldn’t quite believe what they had heard and were seeing. They were going to get punished for no fault of their own. And they were seeing Father Joseph with a cane for the first time.
Father Joseph had the look of a man on a mission. He was completely transformed from the jovial and supportive class teacher they knew. He moved to one end of the first row. The boy held out his hand gingerly.
Kumar thought Father Joseph would reserve the real caning for Shashi and just go through the pretence of punishing the rest of the class.
He was wrong.
Father Joseph brought the full arc of his arm to bear not once but all of three times leaving the boy wailing in pain. Kumar watched transfixed as the class teacher continued his relentless caning through the first two rows and came to him. Kumar held out his hand and tried to make eye contact with his teacher. But the Father seemed to be in a trance and after the first savage cut Kumar just closed his eyes and absorbed the pain.
Father Joseph moved methodically through the rows. There was no dilution in the intensity of caning. When he reached Shashi, the students held their breath expecting the worst, but to their surprise he received the same three strokes of the cane.
Kumar could sense the class was now both resentful and stubborn. The stoic manner in which they endured the caning seemed intended as a message for both Shashi as well as Father Joseph: they thought the punishment unfair and they were taking it under protest.
By the time he was through, Father Joseph was breathing heavily, and his white tunic was drenched in sweat. Without uttering a word to the class, he strode out to the staff-room.
The boys sat bewildered and humiliated by the sudden turn of events. What should have been a happy and inspiring day had ended traumatically. After a while, they silently left the classroom nursing their stinging hands and bruised minds.
Through the pain and confusion, many questions rang through Kumar’s mind. What caused the sudden transformation in Father Joseph and what did the caning really say about him? Couldn’t he have easily found out that Shashi was the culprit from the games master and punished him? Where was the need to discipline the entire class and even if that was warranted, could it not have been just a reprimand and not this brutal caning? His disappointment with the class aside, did Father Joseph allow his ego to get the better of him?
Kumar recollected Father Joseph’s explanation from the morning – it appeared to him now that the line dividing a sadistic teacher from one who was being strict was rather thin.
He also realised it was naive to see people as always being black or white.
They could at times take on a shade of grey.
