Spice of Life: Legendary Mr Maulabaksh and the magic of discipline

Spare the rod and spoil the child is an adage that is frowned upon today, but it was the norm with most families in the days of yore. While I don’t support it, I feel Mr Maulabaksh, used to discipline children in our family, was more of a magic wand than a dreaded rod.

It was a work of art when my grandfather first spotted it in a wood carver’s shop during one of his hill sojourns decades ago. A walking stick, Mr Maulabaksh, became synonymous with discipline for my mother’s generation, while in the case of mine mere mention of its name could spur a child to mend his ways. Its applications mellowed down even more when my son was born as by the time corporal punishment had been banned. But its object remained unchanged – disciplining people.

Considered a family member, it was duly christened. The name Maulabaksh meaning ‘a stick, rod, or cane,’ was conferred on it by my grandfather, a disciplinarian, but doting father and grandfather. It used to lean against the wall near the ancient almirah in my bedroom. One only had to allude to its name. The results were immediate and magical. Its mention evokes memories not just within the family but also among most of my mother’s former students acquainted with it.

Whenever I share her picture on social media, most of her former students talk about Mr Maulabaksh. Mom never took it to school or beat anyone with it, but she used to tell students that it lived inside the classroom cupboard and would pop out and punish them if they did not observe discipline and work hard. A majority of them believed her and are now leading successful, well-settled lives today.

“Daddy would give us a sharp rap on our legs with Mr Maulabaksh whenever we behaved in a wayward manner or scored badly in an exam,” my mother used to tell me. A sound beating courtesy Mr Maulabaksh showed one of my uncles the error of his ways and helped him make the right choices that led him towards success of which he is so proud today.

“Do you want Mr Maulabaksh to kiss you?” my mother said when I had scored poor marks in a math test. Terrified, I promised to work hard and kept my word. Besides the blessings and support of my mother and elders, I owe my college accolades to Mr Maulabaksh.

My son was barely a year old when he came across Mr Maulabaksh. Not knowing what it was, he just straddled it across, turning it into his ‘horsey’ as he liked to call it in his baby tongue. ‘Horsey’ was taken away from him whenever he acted waywardly and returned only when he behaved well. Four generations of my family knew Mr Maulabaksh, who succumbed to wear and tear a few years ago. But its name is still used by most of our family members to discipline their children, who have never even seen it in person. The effects thereof are still as magical as ever.

shaheen.parshad@gmail.com

(The writer is an Amritsar-based freelance contributor )