Six-Year-Old’s Death Reignites Debate Over Corporal Punishment in Indian Schools

On Thursday, Krishna Prasad received a phone call informing him that his six‑year‑old son, Pranay Teja, had collapsed at his school in Visakhapatnam and was being taken to a public hospital. By the time Prasad, who works as a domestic cook, reached King George Hospital, his son was already dead.

According to reports, Teja had been slapped by his kindergarten teacher for allegedly failing to complete his homework. Grainy security footage shows the boy standing in a distressed state, appearing to plead with the teacher before she pulls him forward and strikes him. Within seconds, he collapses. Other teachers attempted cardiopulmonary resuscitation before rushing the child to the hospital, where he was pronounced dead on arrival.

Teja’s family alleges that the private school had a history of physically punishing students. The Andhra Pradesh School Education Department described the death as “extremely unfortunate and painful” and has appointed a three‑member committee to investigate the incident.

The tragedy has thrust the long‑standing debate over corporal punishment back into public focus. Although India outlawed physical discipline in classrooms more than a decade ago, the practice remains widespread, particularly in schools serving poor, rural, and marginalized communities.

Legal framework

India’s Right of Children to Free and Compulsory Education (RTE) Act, enacted in 2009 and effective from 2010, explicitly prohibits “physical punishment” and “mental harassment” of children. The Juvenile Justice Act of 2015 further criminalizes cruelty to children by those in charge, and courts have repeatedly ruled that corporal punishment violates a child’s right to dignity.

However, legal experts point out that the RTE Act does not create a standalone criminal offense for corporal punishment. Instead, cases are often folded into general criminal provisions, treated as minor “hurt” or “discipline” incidents. School authorities tend to shield teachers, discourage complaints, and pressure families to settle matters quietly, effectively burying many complaints.

Persistent practice

A 2018 survey by the nonprofit Agrasar found that nearly 80 percent of low‑income schoolchildren in Gurugram, near New Delhi, reported being beaten several times a week, with a majority of their parents approving of such discipline. Researchers note that in many schools, especially those serving disadvantaged groups, physical punishment is considered the norm.

Legal analyst Kawalpreet Kaur explained that the law’s implementation is weak. “The RTE Act clearly prohibits physical punishment and mental harassment, but it does not create a strong standalone criminal offense,” she said. “Cases are often pushed into general criminal laws, treated as minor incidents of either ‘hurt’ or ‘discipline.’”

Kaur also highlighted judicial reluctance to prosecute teachers, citing a case in Kerala where a teacher accused of caning a sixth‑grader was granted bail, with the court suggesting that teachers should “carry a cane” as a psychological deterrent and warning against “excessive” prosecution over “silly matters.”

Caste and communal dimensions

The historical roots of corporal punishment in India extend beyond British colonialism. Historian Ruchika Sharma notes that the practice is documented in ancient texts such as the Arthashastra and the Manusmriti, which prescribe caste‑based punishments. The British did not invent the practice but systematized it within the education framework, formalizing it through laws like the Whipping Acts of 1864 and 1909.

Contemporary data indicate that children from marginalized castes are disproportionately affected. A 2022 study in the International Journal of Educational Development found that the negative cognitive impacts of corporal punishment are significantly more severe for children from disadvantaged caste backgrounds compared to their more privileged peers.

Several recent incidents underscore this pattern. In August 2022, nine‑year‑old Inder Meghwal, a Dalit student in Rajasthan, died weeks after being allegedly beaten by his teacher for touching a water pot reserved for the teacher’s use. In a separate case, a Muslim couple in Uttar Pradesh alleged their son was beaten to death after being accused of stealing a watch, claiming he was singled out because the other suspects were Hindu.

More recently, in August 2023, a teacher in Muzaffarnagar, Uttar Pradesh, instructed her entire class to slap a seven‑year‑old Muslim student, Mohammad Altamash, while using derogatory language. The incident, captured on video, sparked national outrage and led the Supreme Court to order the child’s transfer to another school at the state’s expense.

Structural discrimination

Experts argue that the abuse stems from an imbalance of power compounded by low legal awareness. “Teachers often believe they have the authority to treat a child however they want, since children rarely complain,” says Ratna Singh of the Cockroach Janta Party, a group campaigning for reform in rural government schools.

Lawyer Kawalpreet Kaur emphasizes that discrimination is rarely a single event. “It is discursive and cumulatively built through repeated insults, stereotypes, and selective punishment,” she explains. “A single incident may look minor, but repeated acts communicate to marginalized students that they do not belong.”

She notes that while Dalit and Adivasi students have specific protections under the Prevention of Atrocities Act, Muslim students lack an equivalent identity‑specific law. Even under the RTE Act, school authorities often focus on the physical act and ignore the discriminatory motive.

Path forward

Addressing the problem requires mandatory reporting, independent complaint mechanisms outside school administrations, and greater attention to patterns rather than isolated events, Kaur argues. “The real gap in Indian law is a failure to recognize the structural and continuing nature of discrimination as it moves from the classroom to school administrations and to the courts,” she states.

In Visakhapatnam, the Education Department’s inquiry continues, and “sensitisation” programs for teachers are being planned. For Prasad and his family, the immediate demand is accountability and recognition that what happened in his son’s school was not an isolated act.

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