In 1987, Anup Kumar Patnaik, an IPS officer (now retired), recounted an anecdote about his brother, who as a child was bright but very sensitive. In school he was once awarded corporal punishment for something he was not guilty of. The indignation was so scathing that he cried inconsolably. The teacher concerned was embarrassed, the headmaster also tried to comfort him, but all in vain. He left for home crying. The teacher came to their house in the evening to express regret, but he kept on crying. “I was punished for no fault of mine,” he repeated. He went to bed crying and got up crying next morning. His crying subsided almost after a week. Everyone present when Mr. Patnaik narrated this found it quite hilarious, but I could strongly relate to his feelings although I never cry and seldom express my anguish. Actually, when wronged, I invariably make conscious efforts to camouflage the agony within through calm demeanour. I was unduly punished on two occasions in school, once in Class-VI and once in Class-X. And till date I have graphic memories of those. The teachers who punished, never realised how badly they had hurt me, but I carried the bitterness for a very long time.
Punishments are supposed to be corrective measures to regulate future behaviour and have a demonstration effect on others. During our probation period in the Indira Gandhi National Forest Academy (IGNFA), we were imparted training in several modules like weapon-training, horse-riding, swimming at the Indian Military Academy. Junior Commissioned Officers who trained us were very strict disciplinarians. Sometimes an entire group was punished for the mistake of an individual. The logic was simple: “We are soldiers, for us group is one unit. In a crisis a single lapse by an individual can seriously jeopardise the entire unit. The idea of punishments is to prevent any such eventuality.” It made sense.
Mr. Kazmi, our Physical Training Instructor at IGNFA, punished us to inculcate discipline. He was strict, but fair. Therefore, no one carried any grudge; rather he was quite popular. However, in our senior batch, an unfortunate incident during a morning physical training class snowballed. The faculty members took serious note of it, and it led to dismissal of two probationers from service. The action was challenged by the affected officers in High Court and they got back into service. During our Foundation course at Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration, Prof D C Tiwari discussed it as a case study. “Was it really necessary to dismiss the probationers? Could it not have been resolved otherwise? If the punishment was justified, why could it not stand the test of law? I believe, singling out two individuals was not fair,” he concluded.
Many a times guardians at home, teachers in school resort to physical punishment more as an expression of frustration/ impatience/ sadism/ machoism, rather than as a means of rectification. Such punishments could severely impair the psyche of the person at the receiving end, mostly without knowledge or intent of the other party. My younger brother, Nanu, is extremely talented, but in his adolescent days he had that extra energy which got him branded as a ‘naughty boy’. In school he was subjected to repeated punishments and matters were reported to parents, which led to further punishment at home. This made him more and more reactionary and aggravated his stubbornness, spiralling into a vicious cycle. The means adopted to discipline him channelised his extra energy in the wrong direction. Later on, he became a darling of the family, but the scars never healed. My parents regretted being impatient with him and my father, a few days before he passed away in May 2013, said, “I pray God to give Nanu as my son in my next birth,”
In Odisha, Durga Puja is observed with fervour and children normally get new dresses on this occasion. A relative’s daughter was pestering her mother to accompany her to the market so that she could select the new dress for herself. Her mother lost her cool, slapped her and went out without taking her. By the time she returned, the girl had hung herself from the ceiling. She wrote a note narrating how time and again she had been wronged by her parents on trivial issues. Without getting into the bizarre details of the suicide note and not elaborating on the perpetual pain inflicted on the parents and not blaming anybody, I would just like to underline the importance of understanding the psychological impact of corporal punishments.
I have a friend who was a flamboyant flirt, but would not tolerate any boy taking amorous interest in his sisters. And the sisters had to bear the brunt of his anger, sometimes not understanding what their fault was. Ironically, all his sisters chose their life partners on their own; none of whom were approved by him. Similarly, another friend took pride in disciplining his children and even his nephews and nieces, with an iron hand. He would proudly argue that his father was a strict disciplinarian and whatever he was in life was due to punishments that he had received as a child. Once during a heated discussion on the topic, I bowled a googly at him, “Can you tell how many of your ‘disciples’ have grown beyond mediocrity in life due to your punishments?” He had no answer.
Thankfully, things have changed now; both at home and in school. I will end with an interesting paradigm shift that has now taken place. One of my cousins was teaching mathematics to her 10-year-old son and was getting impatient. The boy could see from the corner of his eyes that she raised her hand to beat him. He asked, “Did you raise your hand to hit me?” She sheepishly replied, “I didn’t intend to hit, it was a reflex action, and I just raised the hand out of frustration.” Her son matter-of-factly said, “How could you even think that you can hit me? You may discipline me, but keep in mind, no physical punishment!”
