The tickler in my mouth

I used to be a mischievous kid at school and always ‘enjoyed’ my teacher’s tickler who’d always find 101 reasons to beat the living daylights out of me...the most from my hindi ma’am, who was the scariest teacher at school. I was 'popular' at school for all the wrong reasons – fighting with girls, dirty school uniform, giving and calling names, mimicking and so on. My idea of freedom was nicely nestled quite high above the norms and forms strictly laid out in the rule book of our school. This way schooling was ‘fun.’

On the flip side though, I’ll never forget an incident, when I was punished and even as a kid I couldn’t comprehend. I was in std IV then. On that fateful day, it was recess time and I opted to stay back inside the classroom with my friend, our class bully. All of a sudden some enzymes got triggered and I started singing the chorus ‘He is Lord.’ My vocal sac produced a 'noise' loud enough to catch the attention of our Asst. Headmaster who was doing the rounds with his large cane stick ever ready to beat anyone even for the slightest offence. He came straight into our classroom and demanded to know who the ‘singer’ was. At this, without any hesitation, our class bully pointed his fingers at me. I was ordered to mount on top of the teachers table and stand on a feet. Then he made me bite his large cane stick to the laughter and delight of the 40 odd students. I turned red as a tomato on being made the object of mockery – big time laughing stock. It will create a funny mental picture even as you read through these lines.

The teacher left leaving me up doing the balancing act with his stick in my mouth. The bell rang declaring the recess over, and it was time for our hindi ma’am to enter the classroom any moment. I was drowned trying to reason out what was in store for me from our hindi ma’am. I was already half dead. Soon, I heard footsteps coming making my heart pound to death but to my sheer luck it was the Asst. Headmaster and I was finally asked to get down with strict orders never to sing again. It was only after I passed out from that school that I sang again. I heaved a huge sigh of relief. I ran home that day and I narrated the whole trauma to my mom…as tears collected in my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. I didn’t go to school for a week. I shiver down my spine even as i wind this story with profound nostalgic scenes flashing across my mind.

Asangba Tzudir