by Premchand
Mirza Sajjad Ali did not have any elderly people at his home, so the game was played in his drawing room. This, however, didn’t mean that the other people in Mirza’s household were happy with this habit of his. Definitely not. Not only the members of his family, but neighbours and even servants often made caustic comments. ‘What an inauspicious game! It ruins households. God forbid, when someone gets addicted to it, he becomes entirely useless to his family and friends. Totally worthless! It’s a fatal addiction.’ In fact, Mirza’s wife despised the game so much that she lay in wait for opportunities to reproach him. But, she rarely found such opportunities. Even before she woke up the chess board was laid out and when Mirza finally entered the bedroom at night she was fast asleep. Sure enough, she would vent her anger on the servants, ‘What has mian asked for, paan? Tell him to come and take it. Does he have fetters on his feet? What? Did he say he had no time to eat food? Okay, then take the food and dump it on his head. They can eat if they want or feed the dogs. Who’d keep waiting here for him?’ But the fact was—she did not complain as much about her husband as she did about Mir Sahib. She had given him nicknames like ‘Mir, the spoiler’, ‘Mir, the wrecker’ and so on. To save his skin Mirzaji often passed off all the blame to Mir.
One day, when Begum Sahiba had a headache, she told the maid, ‘Go and call Mirza Sahib. He must fetch medicine from the hakim for me. Run, hurry up.’ When the maid went to convey the message to Mirza he said, ‘Go, I’m coming.’ Begum Sahiba was not in the mood to wait. She simply couldn’t take it that while she had a headache her husband continued to play chess. Her face blazed in anger. She ordered the maid, ‘Go and tell him to come this moment, otherwise I’ll go to the hakim alone.’ The game had taken a critical turn. Just two steps and he was going to checkmate Mir. He got annoyed and said, ‘Is she on the verge of death that she can’t wait a moment? Does the hakim have a magic wand to make the headache disappear?’
Mir said, ‘Why don’t you go and listen to what she has to say? Women are delicate creatures.’
‘Of course, you’d surely like me to go. Just two manoeuvres and you’re checkmated!’
‘Sir, don’t be so confident. I’ve thought of a move that’ll checkmate you even while your pieces stay where they are. But go, hear her out. Why do you want to hurt her feelings needlessly?’
‘Then I’ll go only after defeating you.’
‘I won’t play. Just go and hear her out.’
‘Come on, I’ll have to go the hakim. She doesn’t have a headache. It’s just a trick to trouble me.’
‘Whatever it is, you must do it for her sake.’
‘All right. Let me play one more move.’
‘Certainly not! As long as you don’t go and listen to her I won’t even touch the pawns.’
Left with no choice, Mirza went in to face Begum Sahiba. She groaned as she said, ‘You love this cursed chess so much that you don’t care even when somebody is dying. Is it a game or my rival? God forbid there’s anyone like you!’
‘What can I do? Mir Sahib wouldn’t let me go. I had to try hard to get rid of him.’
‘Does he think everyone else is as worthless as him? He also has a family and children, does he not? Or has he got rid of them?’
‘The fellow is an addict. When he comes over I cannot but play with him.’
‘Why don’t you shoo him away like a dog?’
‘Subhanallah! He’s my equal in society. In fact, he’s two steps ahead of me in age and status. I have to show respect.’
‘Then I’ll shoo him away. If he feels bad, let him. As if he provides us with our daily bread. I have to protect my husband. Hariya1, go bring the chess board from outside. Tell Mir Sahib that master won’t play any more. He may leave.’
‘Come on, don’t be so rude. Do you want to defame me? Stop, Hariya, don’t run like a stupid woman.’
‘Why don’t you let her go? You’ll see me dead if you stop her. Fine, you’ve stopped her. Stop me if you can.’
She stormed out of the room in a rage. Mirza turned pale. Mist gathered before his eyes. He began to plead with his wife, ‘In the name of the martyr of Karbala2, you’ll see my dead face if you go there.’ The begum didn’t pay any heed to him. She went up to the door of the drawing room but all of a sudden she stopped in her tracks, feeling embarrassed to go in front of a stranger, a na-mehram. She peered into the room, which was empty now.
Mir had shifted the positions of one or two pawns, as he was wont to do, and had gone out and was pacing the courtyard. Begum Sahiba had her wish fulfilled. She went inside and upturned the chessboard, threw some of the pieces under the settee and some outside. Then she bolted the door from inside. Mir was at the door. He saw the pieces being flung out and also heard the jingle of bangles. When the door was banged shut he realized that Begum Sahiba was in a temper. He slunk away from the scene and made for his home.
Mirza said, ‘What a disgrace!’
Begum Sahiba was unfazed. ‘Now if the fellow comes here again, I’ll have him turned out. Does he think it’s a guesthouse? If he had shown such devotion to God he’d have become a saint by now. You go on playing chess and expect me to wear myself out grinding and cooking? You think I’m a slave? Are you going to the hakim right now or not?’
Mirza left the house. However, instead of going to the hakim he went to Mir’s home and told him the whole story.
Mir said, ‘I could guess when I saw the chess pieces being flung out. I fled! She seems to fly off the handle. You have really given her a long rope, this is not proper. How does it concern her what you do outside? It’s her duty to keep the house in order.’
‘Anyway, where shall we meet now?’ Mirza asked.
‘That’s no problem!’ Mir reassured his friend. ‘My house is big enough. We can have our sessions here.’
‘But how shall I convince Begum Sahiba? She flew into a rage when I played at home; if I start coming here she’ll surely kill me.’
‘Let her babble. She’ll come around in a couple of days. But you should show some backbone.’
2
For some unknown reason Mir’s begum had always preferred him to stay away from home. Therefore, she never showed any displeasure towards his means of entertainment. On the contrary, if he ever got late for chess or was in two minds, she made sure to remind him about it and would in fact encourage him to go. Because of this Mir was under the delusion that his wife was gentle, forbearing and faithful. But when the sessions started happening in the drawing room of their house and Mir spent the entire day at home, she felt that her freedom had been severely curtailed and so was deeply worried. She yearned all day long to have a look outside, and began thinking about how to overcome the hindrance.
Meanwhile, even the servants began to spin yarns. So far, they had been accustomed to idling around and doing nothing. They were not bothered about who came into the house or who left it. They were simply required to go to the market a couple of times. Now they had to constantly be on their toes. They were ordered to serve paan, water or ice at frequent intervals. And the hookah burned at all hours like a lover’s heart. They went to their Begum Sahiba and voiced their complaints: ‘The master’s love for chess has become a great problem for us. Our feet have developed blisters from running errands. What kind of a game goes on from morning till evening? A diversion for an hour or two—that’s enough for any game. Of course, we aren’t complaining. We are the master’s slaves. We will carry out whatever orders are given to us, but this is an inauspicious game. Whoever plays this game never prospers. Some disaster will befall this household. Neighbourhood after neighbourhood has gone to ruin because of this game. The people of the mohalla taunt us about it and we feel embarrassed.’
Begum Sahiba replied, ‘I detest the wretched game myself. But what can I do? What power do I have?’
There were a few old and wise people in the locality who began to have all kinds of misgivings. ‘Now, we’re done for! When our nobles are like this then God help the
land! This kingdom will be ruined by this addiction of chess. The signs are bad.’
The entire kingdom was in disarray. People were getting robbed in broad daylight. There was no one to hear their grievances. All the wealth of the countryside was drawn into Lucknow to be squandered on prostitutes, clowns and pimps. Courtesans were reigning supreme. Gold coins rained down in wine shops. The princes would fling around gold coins with abandon. While the nobility went about spending recklessly, the debts owed to the East India Company were mounting with every passing day. No one was bothered about paying it back. It came to such a pass that even the annual taxes were no longer collected. The resident sent repeated reminders and warnings, but nobody paid these any heed because people were lost in their indulgences.
Nevertheless, the chess game continued in Mir’s drawing room for several months. New plans were thought out, defences erected and demolished. Sometimes they had squabbles which were aggravated for a time but were then brought under control. Sometimes Mirza was so incensed that he left the game in a huff and returned home, while Mir folded the chess cloth, retired to his own chamber and resolved on oath not to go near the game again. But come morning the friends were seen together again. A good night’s sleep removed all bitterness.
One day both the friends were in the thick of a chess battle when an officer of the king’s army came riding on a horse, asking for Mir. Mir lost his wits. What calamity was this? He shut the doors of the house, and instructed the servants, ‘Tell them I’m not home.’
The rider demanded, ‘Where is he if not at home?’
The servant replied, ‘I don’t know. What do you want?’
‘Why should I tell you? He has been summoned by the king. Perhaps soldiers are being conscripted for the army. It’s not a joke being a master of a rent-free estate.’
‘Very well, you may go. We’ll convey the message.’
‘Simply conveying the message isn’t enough. I’ll come tomorrow and take him along.’
When the rider left, Mir was still in a panic. He was shaking with terror. He said to Mirza, ‘What’s going to happen now?’
‘What a bolt from the blue! What if I’m summoned too?’ Mirza panicked.
‘The bastard said he’d come again tomorrow.’
‘It’s such a misfortune! If we have to join the army we’ll die before our time. I get a temperature at the very name of battle.’
‘I won’t be able to eat or drink from today.’
‘Listen, there’s just one way out. Let’s disappear, he won’t find us even if he combs the entire city. Starting tomorrow, let’s have our session at some deserted place on the banks of the Gomti. Who can find us there? When that fellow comes for me, he’ll have to go back empty-handed.’
‘That’s right, what a splendid idea! From tomorrow, we’ll meet on the banks of the Gomti.’
In the meantime, Mir’s begum was saying to the horseman, ‘You disguised yourself perfectly!’
He answered, ‘I’m accustomed to making such jackasses dance to my tune. Chess has robbed them of all their common sense and courage. Now you’ll see they won’t stay at home even by mistake. They’ll leave early morning and return by midnight.’
3
From the next day both friends would leave home at the crack of dawn. They carried with them a small mat and a paan box. Crossing the Gomti they reached an old, deserted mosque which was perhaps a relic of the Mughal period. On the way they picked up tobacco, pipe and wine. After reaching the mosque they spread the mat, filled their pipe and sat down to play their game. Then they were without a care in the world. Apart from a few words like ‘move’, ‘check’ and ‘checkmate’ no other word came out of their mouth. No mystic could have been more deeply rapt in his meditation. In the afternoon when they felt hungry they went through narrow streets to a baker’s shop, ate something, smoked tobacco and then got absorbed in the game again. At times, they forgot about eating altogether.
Meanwhile, the political condition of the country was getting more complicated. The forces of the East India Company were moving rapidly towards Lucknow. There was commotion in the city and people were fleeing to the countryside with their families. But our two chess players carried on unperturbed. They would step out of their homes through the bylanes, escaping the gaze of bystanders. Even their neighbours couldn’t get a glimpse of them. By then, the British army had reached close to Lucknow.
One day both friends were playing chess. Mirza had the upper hand and Mir was being checked again and again. Suddenly, the soldiers of the East India Company were seen approaching. The Company had decided to mount a raid on Lucknow. It wanted to gobble up the kingdom on the pretext of the unpaid loan. It was the same capitalist ploy that had put fetters on all weak nations.
Mir said, ‘Here comes the British army!’
Mirza retorted, ‘Let them come! Save your pawns. Checkmate.’
‘We must take a peek, hiding behind a wall. Just see how youthful and mighty they look! The mere sight makes one tremble in fear.’
‘You can see them later. What’s the rush! Check again!’
‘They have artillery too. There must be around five thousand soldiers! Red faces just like monkeys!’
‘Don’t make excuses, sir. Here’s check!’
‘We’ll think about it when the time comes. Here, you’re checkmated.’
The army went past them. The friends got ready for a second round of the game. Mirza said, ‘What’re we going to do about our meal today?’
Mir replied, ‘Today is a day of fasting. Are you feeling hungrier than usual?’
‘I wonder what’s happening in the city!’
‘People must be taking a nap after having their meals. His Highness the Nawab Sahib also must be taking rest. Or there might be a round of drinking going on.’
By the time the two friends set down to play, it was three. This time Mirza was losing. At that moment the army of returning soldiers was heard. Nawab Wajid Ali had been dethroned and the army was taking him away as a prisoner. There was no turmoil in the city. No brave soldier of his spilled even a single drop of blood. The nawab bade a tearful goodbye to his people, just like a bride does at the moment of parting from her parents. The begums wept, the nawab wept, the maids wept, and that was all! A kingdom came to an end. In human history, no independent ruler of a country could have been overthrown so peacefully and quietly. It was not the kind of non-violence which delights angels. It was the kind of cowardice and impotence at which gods shed tears. The nawab of the vast state of Awadh had been imprisoned and Lucknow was lost in a sensual slumber. This was the last stage of political decadence.
Mirza said, ‘Those tyrants have captured His Excellency the Nawab Sahib!’
Mir parried, ‘Quite right. You aren’t a judge! Look here, check!’
‘Just a moment, sir. I can’t concentrate on the game right now. His Highness must be shedding tears of blood! The lamp that had lit up Lucknow has gone out. The nawab must be crying his heart out.’
‘Cry he must! Where will he find this luxury in the white man’s prison? Again check!’
‘Time doesn’t stay the same for anyone. What a great catastrophe!’ Mirza sounded philosophical.
‘Yes, that’s true. Here again, check! That’s it, you’ll be checkmated in the second move. No one can save you!’
‘Wallah! You’re so heartless! Don’t you feel any grief at such a catastrophe! The chief patron of arts, His Excellency, is no more. Lucknow has become desolate!’
‘First save your king and then you can mourn for Nawab Sahib. Here’s check and mate! Now, play your move!’
The army went by taking the nawab with them. Mirza set up the chess pieces again. The sting of defeat is bitter. Mir said, ‘Come now, let’s write an elegy for Nawab Sahib’s tragic destiny.’ But Mirza’s loyalty and etiquette had vanished with his defeat. He was baying for vengeance.
4
Evening took over. Bats began to screech in the ruins. Swallows returned to
their nests and were taking rest. But both players continued their game like two bloodthirsty warriors locked in a combat. Mirza had lost three games in a row and the fourth one, too, didn’t look promising. He played each move with great caution with the firm resolve to win, but one move turned out to be so ill-advised that it spoiled the entire game for him. On the other side, Mir was singing ghazals and thumris in ecstasy, occasionally teasing his friend and cracking jokes. He seemed very pleased with himself, as if he had come upon some hidden treasure. This annoyed Mirza no end. He frowned again and again and said in exasperation, ‘Sir, don’t change your moves. What is this— you make a move and then immediately alter it! Think carefully before you make a move. Why is your hand on that piece? Leave it alone! Until you’ve decided the next move in your mind, don’t touch your piece. Sir, you take half an hour for every manoeuvre. This is against the rules! Whoever takes more than five minutes for a move will be declared checkmated. You’ve changed your move again! Why don’t you quietly place it back!’
Mir’s queen was about to be taken. He said, ‘When did I even make my move?’
Mirza replied, ‘You’ve already made the move. Just put the piece right there in the same square.’
‘Why should I put it back in that square? When did I take my hand off the piece?’
‘If you wait till doomsday to make your move, will the game stop? The moment you saw your queen in danger, you started cheating.’