by Premchand
Yesterday, Vrinda had an outburst. A number of my friends had suggested an intercommunity feast. After many days of debates and discussions, some of them finally organized the lunch. There were only four Brahmins apart from me; the rest were Kayastha or from other castes. This magnanimity was unbearable for Vrinda. When I returned from the lunch, she looked very upset as though someone had hurt her deeply. Looking at me with hurtful eyes, she said, ‘The gates of heaven must have opened now for you!’
These rude words pierced my heart like an arrow. I said harshly, ‘Only those who are lazy or lifeless worry about heaven and hell. My heaven and hell are right here in this world. I want to achieve something here before I leave it.’
‘Thank God for your manly courage and endeavour! I am sure from today peace and joy will reign in the world! You have redeemed the whole world! It cannot expect better than this!’
I said irritably, ‘If God hasn’t endowed you with the ability to understand things, how can I make you understand them? Even a stupid person can understand the harm that discrimination has done to our country. There cannot be any doubt that eliminating this will benefit our nation. Of course, it’s a different matter that there are those who do understand these things, but choose to ignore them.’
‘Can’t this mutual love be born without eating together?’
I thought it was futile to continue this argument. I felt I should take recourse to a principle that was beyond debate. Vrinda was very devout and I decided to defeat her on her own ground. We men do not have much regard for religious beliefs. I said gravely, ‘It is certainly difficult, if not impossible. But just think how unjust we are to our own fellow beings—we who are the children of the same Creator hate each other. We are so caught up with who is superior and who is inferior. The whole world is a manifestation of that one mighty God. It is the same Divine Light which shines on all of us. It is only this physical form that has separated us from each other. We are blinded by our own self-interest. In reality, we are all one. Just as the sun’s light does not become different when it falls on different houses, in the same way, God’s spirit does not become different when it mingles in different human beings. Doesn’t the light of the sun fall on the huts of the poor? I’ll say it falls more abundantly on them.’
This shower of wisdom drenched Vrinda’s dry heart. She listened to me with attention. When I was done, she looked at me with devotion and began to cry.
The hearts of human beings are like iron pillars. It is difficult to erase the marks on them. But we can heat them up and then leave new marks. The marks of family prestige and national pride were removed from Vrinda’s mind. In their place were imprinted the marks of the universal soul.
Wife
The words of my venerable husband have awakened me to a new realization. This advice pulled me out of the dark pit I was inhabiting and raised me to the luminous peak of a mountain. I have dishonoured many souls because of my arrogance in the purity of my caste and false pride in my birth. O Parmatama, forgive me for the bitterness and lack of love I had for my honourable husband.
Ever since I heard those divine words, my heart has become extremely tender, filled with all kinds of nice thoughts.
Yesterday, the dhobin brought the clothes. She had a severe headache. Earlier, I might have expressed verbal sympathy for her or, at the most, asked the maid to give her a little oil. But yesterday, I felt very agitated. I felt as though she were my sister. I made her sit next to me and rubbed oil on her head for a whole hour. The heavenly joy I felt in doing this cannot be described in words. I felt as if my soul was drawn to her by some strong force. Seeing my behaviour my sister-in-law turned up her nose, but I did not care one bit.
Early this morning, it was extremely cold. My hands and feet were freezing. When Mahari came to work, she was shivering. I was wrapped in a quilt and sitting by the fire. Even then it was extremely uncomfortable for me to expose even a part of my face.
I felt really sad when I saw Mahari. I was ashamed of my conduct. What is the difference between us? The same light illuminates her soul too. I was sitting comfortably by the fire and she was busy carrying out errands for me. Why this injustice? Just because I am the wife of a wealthy man? Is it because my ego had put a veil between us? I didn’t have the courage to think beyond this. I got up, put my woollen shawl over Mahari, took her hand and made her sit by the fire. She was taken aback and said, ‘Bahuji, let me go and do my work. The master will be late for court.’
After that, I put aside my quilt and began washing the dishes with her. That good woman repeatedly tried to dissuade me. My sister-in-law came, watched me with great curiosity, then made a face and left, thinking I was amusing myself. The entire house was thrown into commotion because of this little incident! How selfish we are! We insult the Parmatama. Trapped in the fetters of self-interest we perform all kinds of atrocities on ourselves.
Husband
It seems that women simply cannot follow the path of moderation. They resort to extremes. Vrinda, who once attached such importance to her high-caste status and national pride, is now the embodiment of equality and kindness. This is the miraculous result of the simple advice I gave her. Now I too can really be proud of my inspirational powers! I have no objection to her sitting with low-caste women or laughing or talking with them. She could even read aloud to them for their benefit. What I do not like at all is that she should forget herself completely and literally run behind them.
Three days ago, a Chamar came to me, wanting to file a case against his zamindar. No doubt the zamindar had been cruel to him, but it’s not a lawyer’s job to file lawsuits for free. And then to take on a zamindar for the sake of a mere Chamar! Well, would I have built my career if I had practised law like this? Vrinda came to know of his plea. That was it! She kept nagging me to accept the case. These days, she has developed a knack for debating with me frequently. I tried to palm her off by making some excuse or the other, but she would not leave me alone till I had taken the brief. The only result of this has been that for the past three days clients have been lining up at my door, all wanting me to fight their cases for free. I have had to reproach Vrinda several times about this.
This is precisely why ancient scholars did not consider women fit to receive religious instruction. Women just don’t understand that the practical side of every philosophy is different from its theoretical side. We all know that God is just, but does one forget one’s own position while thinking of justice? If we were to bring into practice the idea of universal spirit, then there will really be a kingdom based on equality on earth. But just as the idea of equality has remained an abstract principle and will ever remain so, in the same way, the political principle of equality is unobtainable and will remain so.
We will praise the two ideals loudly and freely and debate and theorize about it. We will even make use of it to strengthen our argument before the public. But it would be impossible to follow it. I didn’t realize that Vrinda would not understand such a simple thing.
Vrinda’s radicalism started becoming unbearable. Today, the same kind of food was cooked for everybody in the kitchen. So far, for the family, fine quality rice was cooked; vegetables were cooked in ghee; milk, butter and fruits were served. For the servants there was always coarse rice, vegetables cooked in oil, and lentils. Milk would not be given to them. This practice has been followed even in very rich families. It is nothing new, and our servants have never complained about this. But today, I saw that Vrinda had cooked the same kind of food for everybody. The servants ate the same food as the members of the family. I was too amazed to say anything.
Vrinda probably thinks that to make a distinction in food is unjust for the servants. What a silly idea! Carried away by her fancy notion of equality, she wants to obliterate the distinction between the nobility and the laity, big and small. How stupid of her! This distinction has always been there and will remain so. I certainly am a supporter of national unity. All educated people swear by nationalism. But
nobody imagined, even in their wildest dreams, that we would give an equal place to servants and labourers. We want to educate them and lift them out of poverty. This wind is sweeping every country in the world. Although everybody understands what it really means, no one is ready to say it openly. The idea is to become politically more important, to announce to the world our greatness so that our nationalist movement has a greater impact. Then we can claim that this is not simply the voice of a few educated people from the upper class, but the voice of the entire nation. But Vrinda refuses to understand even this.
Wife
Yesterday, this husband of mine revealed his true self. That is why I am so distressed. There is so much hypocrisy and pretence in this world! We are all such cowardly oppressors. After hearing his advice, I had begun to see him as a godlike soul. I took pride in the fact that I had the good fortune of serving such a noble person. Today, I realized that it is only those who know how to straddle two boats at the same time are thought of as well-wishers of the community.
Yesterday was my sister-in-law’s send-off to her husband’s house, the rukhsati. Many ladies from our community were invited. They were all wearing beautiful clothes and jewels and were sitting on the carpet. I was welcoming them all. Suddenly, my eyes fell on the women who were sitting on the floor where the ladies’ shoes were kept. These poor women had also come to witness the rukhsati. I felt it was not right for them to sit there. So I brought them in and made them sit on the carpet. The ladies began to whisper among themselves, and, in a little while, one by one, they made some excuse and left. Somebody reported this to my husband. He came in a rage and reprimanded me in full public view.
When I woke up this morning, I saw a strange sight. The leaves from which the guests had eaten last night, the clay cups and leaf plates used by the guests were thrown on the ground outside. Many people were bent over them, licking the leftovers. Yes, they were human beings animated by the same universal soul, the Parmatama. Many dogs had also gathered there but these vagabonds beat them and chased them away. Their condition was worse than that of the dogs. My hair stood on end when I saw this spectacle. Tears began to flow from my eyes. God! These are our own brothers and sisters, part of the same universal soul. And their condition was so pitiable! I immediately sent the maid, called all those people inside, and gave them the sweets that were stacked up for the guests. The maid was shivering—if the master came to know, she would be in real trouble. But when I comforted her, she felt a little reassured.
The poor souls were eating the sweets when my husband came in, enraged. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’ he asked harshly. ‘You are always up to some mischief or the other. I just can’t understand what has got into you. These sweets were prepared for guests, not for scavengers. Now what can I serve to the guests? Have you taken a determined vow to destroy my reputation?’
I replied calmly, ‘You are getting angry for no reason. I will get you the sweets I’ve just given away. I could not stand and see one person eating sweets and another licking plates and leaves. The scavengers, too, are human beings. They have the same soul. Don’t you think it unfair?’
My husband replied, ‘Just don’t go on harping on the same point like a silly woman. All souls are the same indeed! If all human beings are the same then who stopped God from keeping everyone in the same condition? Why should he allow differences between high and low? What’s the point of this meaningless argument?’ I was dumbstruck and could not utter a word! At that moment, all regard and devotion for my husband simply vanished from my heart. How selfish human beings could be! They make a mockery even of God! What shameful hypocrisy! We sacrifice the truth for national good and self-interest. Under such circumstances, is it strange that our efforts do not bear the desired fruit?
Translated from the Urdu by M. Asaduddin
The Old Aunt
1
Old age, in many ways, is the return of childhood. The old aunt had lost all her senses except that of taste. She had no other means to draw attention to herself except by crying. All her limbs—eyes, hands and legs—had given way. She would be lying there uncared for and, if the members of the family did things contrary to her wishes, did not give her food on time or in sufficient quantity, or a share of the food brought from the market, she would begin to howl. What’s more, she cried and sobbed at the top of her voice, not in a subdued tone.
It had been a long time since her husband had died. Her son, too, had died when he was an adolescent. And now, there was no one except the nephew with whom she lived. She had transferred her entire property to his name. He had made tall promises at the time, but they turned out to be false. The return from her property was not less than two hundred rupees a year, but she was hardly given enough food to fill her belly. It was not clear whether her nephew, Pandit Buddhiram, was to blame for this, or his wife. Buddhiram was a decent gentleman, but only as long as he did not have to part with his money. Rupa was sharp by temperament but God-fearing. The old aunt did not mind her sharp tongue as much as she did Buddhiram’s apparent gentlemanliness.
Sometimes Buddhiram regretted this cruel attitude of his. He knew well that he could pretend to be a gentleman because of this property. If verbal assurances and dry sympathy could improve the situation, he was all for it. But the fear of extra expenses made him suppress all his good intentions. If the old aunt shared her plight with a visitor he would fly into a rage and reprimand the aunt. Children generally dislike old people. When they saw the attitude of their parents towards her, they teased her all the more. If someone pinched her, another would spit water on her after rinsing. Kaki would let out a scream, but as everyone knew that she cried and screamed only for food, no one paid any heed. Of course, if Kaki, in a fit of anger, started cursing the children, Rupa would appear on the scene. This fear made Kaki use her tongue as a weapon sparingly, though it was certainly a more potent weapon than crying to get her way.
In the entire family, if Kaki was attached to anyone, it was to Ladli, Buddhiram’s youngest daughter. Fearing her marauding brothers, Ladli would take her share of sweets to Kaki’s room and eat them there. This was her refuge, though it often proved rather costly because of Kaki’s greed, yet cheaper than her brothers’ injustice. Their self-interest had awoken their sympathy for each other.
2
It was night. A shehnai was playing in Buddhiram’s courtyard, and the children of the village were enjoying the music with wide-eyed wonder. The guests were resting on charpoys and getting massages from the barber. The village minstrel was standing there and singing and, carried away by this, some guests were exclaiming ‘Wah! Wah!’ The minstrel looked ecstatic, as though he was really deserving of the praise. Some English-educated youths were there who ignored it. They considered it beneath their dignity to take part in the assembly of fools.
The occasion was Buddhiram’s eldest son Sukhram’s tilak ceremony. People had gathered to celebrate it. Women were singing inside the house, and Rupa was busy in the preparations of the feast. Huge pans were installed on the earthen oven. If puris and kachoris were being fried in one, other dishes were being cooked in others. Spicy curries were being cooked in another huge pan. The appetizing aroma of ghee and spices had filled the place.
Kaki was sitting in her room, dejected. The spicy aroma was making her restless. She was thinking, They won’t give me any puris, I guess. It’s so late, but no one has brought me any food. It seems everyone has eaten. Nothing has been left for me. This made her feel like crying, but she resisted it thinking it might be an ill omen.
Ah! What aroma! Who’ll think of me? When they don’t give me enough rotis, will they give me luscious puris? This thought brought tears to her eyes and she felt a lump in her throat. But she maintained silence for fear of Rupa.
Kaki was lost in her sorrowful thoughts for a long time. The aroma of ghee and spices would make her restless off and on. Her mouth was watering. Imagining the flavour of the puris tickled her mind. Who would she call today? Even Ladl
i didn’t come to her. The two boys who always teased her were not to be seen either. No one knew where they had disappeared to today. If only she had a way to know what food was being prepared.
Kaki’s imagination took wing as she thought of the puris dancing before her eyes. Deep red, puffed up and soft to touch. Rupa must have eaten to her heart’s content. The kachoris must be emitting the aroma of ajwain and cardamom. If she could just lay her hands on a puri, she would love it. She felt like going to the scene and sitting before the pan. The puris must be tumbling out of the pan. They must be taking them out of the pan and serving them hot. One can smell flowers in the house, but it is quite another experience to smell them in the garden. Having decided, Kaki sat on all fours and, leaning on her hands, got across the threshold with difficulty and slowly crawled to the pan.
At that moment Rupa was carrying out her duties anxiously. Sometimes she entered one room, then another; sometimes she went near the pan, and the next moment to the place where the food was being stored. Someone came from outside and said, ‘Mahraj is asking for a milkshake.’ She became busy giving him a milkshake. The next moment someone else came and said, ‘The village minstrel has come, give him something.’ She was taking out a portion for the minstrel when a third person came and asked, ‘How long for dinner to be ready? Could you give me the drum and the cymbals?’ Poor thing, she was exhausted from running around and she felt annoyed, but she had no time to express her anger. If she vented her anger, her neighbours would make fun of her saying she had no ability to manage an event. Her throat was parched because of thirst. She was sizzling in the heat. But she didn’t have the time either to drink water or fan herself with a hand fan. She also had her apprehensions that if there was the slightest laxity on her part then things would begin to disappear. In this mental state when she saw Kaki sitting near the pan she flared up. She could not control herself. She forgot that her women neighbours were sitting there and did not care what they would think. What would the men think if they saw her chiding the old woman? Just as the frog pounces on the snail, she pounced on Kaki, shook her by the arms and said, ‘Is your belly on fire already? Is it a stomach or a warehouse? Couldn’t you sit still in your room? The guests have not eaten yet, offerings to the God have not been made yet—couldn’t you wait a little more? You have come out to sit on my chest. May God burn your tongue. If you aren’t given food throughout the day, you will go out raiding other people’s kitchens. The village people will think that you are not provided with sufficient food in the house, that is why you look for food elsewhere. She doesn’t even die, the witch! She is bent upon sullying our honour. She will stop only when we lose face in society. She stuffs herself with so much; I don’t know how she burns it off. If you care for your life, go back to your room and sit there; when the people in the family will sit down to eat, you will get your food. You are not a deity that you should be worshipped first, never mind if no one else has taken even a drop of water.’