The scathing sun was beating hard on our backs, as we retreated to our classroom after lunchtime, that fateful April afternoon of 1970. We were then studying in Class VI and the scheduled period was that of Moral Science. Not only was the timing incongruous for studying but the subject compounded our misery.

The teacher was a bit late in coming and the boys were feeling lethargic at that point of time. To obviate our boredom, some of us began to shout at each other, oblivious of the fact that a certain predator was on the prowl even at this hour.
Suddenly, a voice thundered, “Why is there so much noise”?
The silence that followed was a horrific spine-chiller!
The monitor, then summoned, pointed towards eight of us who were making the most noise. Simultaneously, the Class Teacher appeared from nowhere to join the party. Words must have reached his ears that the headmaster was on one of his proverbial sorties.

When lined up, the boy in front of me turned out to be a habitual offender and being used to caning, had evolved ingenious means to attenuate any punishment. When his turn came, he was again up to his tricks, as he raised his right palm to shoulder height, to minimize the impact of the beating. However, the headmaster, who was a diminutive man, was in no mood to spare him that day. Jumping on his feet, his fluffed white cloak giving the impression of an airborne poltergeist, he let the stick come down with full force, time and again, leaving the poor boy wriggling in pain.
I watched the scenario, appalled to the bone marrow, awaiting my turn. The consequence of this intense maneuvering must have tired the tormentor somewhat, as he began to have a few words with the subject teacher, whose stealthful appearance had suddenly drawn his attention. I knew the respite was momentary, the grimace on my face expressing my predicament very well.

Finally, the moment arrived!
I do not know what was brewing inside his mind, but what he bellowed then, maybe influenced by my petrified demeanor, certainly took me by surprise.
“Have I already caned you?”
“Y..ess, Father!” I managed to splutter.
The next words he uttered were like a cuckoo’s call to my ears.
“Then go!”.
The immense relief on my face was almost palpable and the glee thereafter, when I had made good my escape, is still there!