Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Continuing with the pain in the ar**
Dipu was just telling me abt corporal punishment in his school and it reminded me of my childhood. For me the saying "spare the rod and spoil the child" was just an argument against having test-tube babies, but my teachers in school thought otherwise. Dipu's stories reminded me of one of my most unforgettable experiences from high school.

Mr. Vincent was our Art teacher, even though know one had ever seen him even put a dot on the black-board. To make him worth his salary the school made him the official starter in sports events and also made him serve as the official in-house flogging expert. Rumors ran wild abt his alleged affair with a female teacher, who I believe liked an occasional spanking.

It all happened when moi and my friend Abhik were sitting through a screening of Julius Caesar (our prescribed text). The lights were dim, the acting was too dramatic even by Shakespearean standards and the woman playing Portia wasn't hot enuff. With so many evident distractions, Abhik and I kept ourselves busy by laughing at inopportune moments. Finally, when we broke out hysterically after one of the characters thrust a knife through her thigh, the supervising teacher summoned Mr. Vincent. Much like gifts of war brought from an exotic country, Abhik and I were handed over to Vincent the Terror. Vincy's eyes lit up. The narrow piece of oft used bamboo weapon was summoned. I was aware of an approaching whipping but what followed was far far far more painful.

For starters, Vincent asked us in his trademark style, "How many of my best would you like?". Obviously that wasn't a question. I couldn't negotiate the volume of lashing with him! What if I told him, "Hmmm! well last time you weren't that good. So what say you give me just two of them now?" While I was thinking of all this Vincy replied himself, "Half a dozen each. That should teach you boys a lesson!"

Vincent's tyranny was far from over. If any of you have ever got a lashing, you know that after the first two blows your buttock stops reacting. Pain becomes the natural state you are in. You just wait then for the murmur and giggles to disappear from the reveling audience. Vincent knew this - so he alternated between me and Abhik. "Wattak!" I would hear, a millisecond later the pain would start rising from my tushi to my heart and the eyes would reciprocate with a little more moisture ... and then there was a break ... the pain would subside ... you would look at Vincy doing the same to Abhik, knowing exactly what he is going through ... and then, before you knew, it was your turn again.

Whooof! The lurid details of this incident reminds me how much of a mark it left in my mind. So if any of you think I'm twisted - well, well, well - blame it on a disturbed childhood :)

Ooh, cruel. The guy obviously had a few more problems than just lurid affairs.

Btw, Julius Caesar was our prescribed text at school as well. The movie we saw was black & white, and all the guys had their hair combed forwards. Sounds familiar?
Well our movie was a colored one but it wasn't much of a movie - it was the recording of some stage presentation - but yes the funky hairdo was there and everybody (men women children) wore robes :)
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