The Complete Short Stories

by Premchand

  The moment Haridas reached the mill, he made it clear that the workers would have to work hard. ‘I will monitor the work this month and promote everyone. But I will not accept any excuses. All those who have problems with this can leave.’

  Haridas called Dinanath and said, ‘Bhai Sahib, I know very well that you are efficient and intelligent. You’ve been working according to the culture here. But now I require your experience and hard work. Go through the accounts. It will be my responsibility to get work, but you will have to look after the management here. You will get a cut of the profits. I want to do some good work in the absence of my father.’

  The result of this promptness and smartness was soon visible. Haridas had many advertising pamphlets distributed. This resulted in more work. Due to Dinanath’s efficiency, the customers got their flour on time and at reasonable rates. Before the first month came to an end, Haridas ordered a new machine. He also hired a couple of experienced workers. The city was abuzz with talk of this mill. Haridas would treat his customers so well that even if he talked to someone only once, they would become his customer. He had a doctrine for the workers—pay them the moment they finished their jobs. The impact of his personality was visible. All other mills paled in comparison. He took up a lot of contracts on very little profit. There wasn’t a moment for the machines to breathe. They were working day and night. Carts and cars were seen the moment one entered the compound. There was action at the mill. Everyone was busy at work. However, all tasks were managed so efficiently that there was no sign of rush or hurry anywhere.

  3

  Gradually, Harnamdas started getting better. After a month, he could stammer and speak. The doctor had given instructions that he should live under peaceful conditions. But the moment he could speak a little bit, he was very restless. He would tell Devaki, ‘The entire business is going down the drain. I don’t know what this boy is doing. He has taken all the work in his hands! I had instructed him to make Dinanath the manager, but he did not pay heed to it. He is wasting away my life’s earnings.’

  Devaki tried to comfort him saying he shouldn’t worry. The business was going on well, earning a lot of profit. But she was also scared to give importance to this issue fearing another paralytic attack. She tried to divert his attention every time. Harnamdas would shower Haridas with questions the moment he returned from work and got angry if Haridas tried to change the topic. He said, ‘Worthless brat, you’re slashing my throat in cold blood. Wasting away my wealth! Do you know at all how I have saved every penny? You’ve decided that you will make me beg at this age.’

  Haridas would not answer these allegations. He knew it would have only aggravated the situation. Because of his silence, Harnamdas was sure that the business was in tatters.

  One day, Devaki mentioned to Haridas, ‘For how many days and for how long will you hide things from Lalaji?’

  Haridas replied, ‘I want to take him and show him once I repay the money for the new machine. By then even the three-month period of rest instructed by the doctor will be over.’

  ‘But where is the need to hide this? He talks about it through the day. This increases his worry, it doesn’t decrease it. It would be better if he is told everything.’

  ‘Will he believe me if I tell him? Yes . . . he might believe it if Dinanath tells him.’

  ‘In that case, send Dinanath tomorrow. Lalaji will call him the moment he sees him. You will be free from this scolding that you get every day.’

  ‘Now his scolding doesn’t bother me. The result of my labour and expertise is in front of my eyes. The day I took the business in my hands, there was barely a ratio between expenditure and income. Today there is a profit of five hundred rupees. The third month is going to end and I have already paid half the amount for the new machine. Most probably I will pay off the entire amount in the next two months. The expenditure of the mill is probably three times more but the income has increased five times. His eyes will open when he sees it. Once there were owls hooting in the compound. He would nap at a table and Dinanath would sit at the other end and clean his ears. The mistri and the fireman would play cards. The mill would only work for a couple of hours of the day. Now there is not a moment to breathe. I have managed what he couldn’t do his entire life. He was so proud of his experience and actions. I do the same amount of work in a day that he would do in a month.’

  Devaki looked at him disapprovingly, ‘One should learn from you how to praise oneself. As a mother always thinks her child is frail, a father also thinks that his son is naive. This is their love. You shouldn’t feel bad about it.’

  Haridas was embarrassed to hear this and he remained quiet.

  4

  The next day, Dinanath came with the excuse to pay a visit to Harnamdas. The moment Harnamdas saw him, he sat up, resting against a pillow, and asked him impatiently, ‘Has the business collapsed completely or is some of it still left? All of you already consider me dead. You never took my advice. I did not expect this from you at least. I would have died had my daughter-in-law not taken care of me like this.’

  ‘Babu Sahib kept me informed every day about your health. I haven’t forgotten the good deeds you have done for me. I am forever indebted to you. It was just that there was so much work that I didn’t get time to visit you.’

  ‘How is the mill? How much time is left for it to go bankrupt?’

  Dinanath answered in surprise, ‘Who has told you that it is going to go bankrupt? You can see the profit in business in this period with your own eyes.’

  Harnamdas answered sarcastically, ‘Looks like your Babu Sahib has promoted you according to your wishes. Now stop hero-worshipping him and tell me the truth. I had instructed that the running of the mill would be in your hands but I believe that Haridas has kept everything in his hands.’

  ‘Yes. But I do not regret this. It is he who is capable of this work. I wouldn’t have been able to do what he has done.’

  ‘I am surprised to hear this. Okay, tell me, what progress has he made?’

  ‘It is a long story. In brief, the work that we used to do in a month we do in a day now. A new machine was bought. Half of it has been paid for. Very often it works at night as well. We had taken a contract for five thousand maund from the thakur’s company. The delivery is almost complete. We also had a contract with Jagatram Banwarilal. He has given us an advance for five hundred sacks of flour per month. Similarly, many small jobs have increased considerably. Expenditure has also increased, along with income. Many new workers have been employed. Along with the wages, the workers get a share in the profit too. The net profit is about four times more than before.’

  Harnamdas listened to everything very carefully and looked closely at Dinanath. Maybe he was searching for the truth. He added in a suspicious tone, ‘Dinanath, although you have never lied to me, it is hard for me to believe this. I will only believe this once I see everything with my own eyes.’

  Disappointed, Dinanath left. He was hoping that Harnamdas would be elated to hear about the progress and compliment him on his hard work. He didn’t know that the roots of suspicion are so deeply entrenched in some hearts that even evidence and proof are not enough to make an impact. Even when they see the changes with their own eyes, they feel that it might be some sort of magic.

  Harnamdas remained in deep thought even after Dinanath left, and then, all of a sudden, called out for the Kahar to take out his buggy. He went and sat in it with the help of his lathi and ordered the Kahar to take him to his mill.

  It was afternoon. Generally, at this time the workers from the mill are away for their meals. But work was going on at Haridas’s mill. The buggy entered the compound. There were flower beds on both sides and the gardener was watering the plants. There was no place for the buggy to enter because of the number of carts and motorcars parked there. Wherever one looked, there was cleanliness and greenery.

  Haridas was dictating a letter to one of his employees, when the old lala entered the mill with the help
of his lathi. Haridas got up immediately. Holding his hand, ‘Why didn’t you send a message that you wanted to come. I could have had the palanquin sent for you. You must have had a lot of trouble.’ Saying this, he moved an easy chair close to him. The mill workers came running and stood around him with great respect. Harnamdas sat in the chair, looking at the pile of gunny sacks touching the roof and said, ‘Looks like Dinanath was speaking the truth. There are many new faces here. How much work is done every day?’

  ‘These days there is some extra work, so about five hundred maund of flour is prepared every day. But the average would remain at two hundred and fifty maund. We often work at night as we have to pay off the new machine.’

  ‘Did you have to take out a loan?’

  ‘Not a penny. Only half the money for the machine has to be repaid.’

  Satisfaction spread across Harnamdas’s face. Faith took the place of suspicion. Lovingly, he looked at his son and said in a tender voice, ‘Son, I have been very harsh with you. Forgive me. I was very proud of the fact that I recognized people but I was often cheated. I should have moved away from this work a long time ago. I have caused you enough harm. This illness turned out to be a blessed one which gave you an opportunity to prove yourself and show your worth. I wish I had had this attack five years ago. May God always keep you happy and grant you progress. This is the blessing of your old father.’

  Translated from the Hindi by Saba Mahmood Bashir

  Life Force

  1

  There was an orphan girl in my village named Gujrati. She didn’t even remember her parents’ faces. She played with the village boys. Some would beat her; she would cry and then resume playing. If someone felt sorry for her and offered her something she ran to get it. Wherever she felt sleepy, she slept, wherever she found food, she ate. She wore whatever dirty, old and tattered clothes were available. If a person felt pity and lifted her on to his lap, her heart overflowed with happiness. But she wasn’t leaner and gloomier than the other children her age. On seeing her healthy body other mothers felt jealous. She could melt people’s hearts. Upon seeing her, people lifted her on to their laps for no reason.

  When she grew up she started working as a wage earner in the fields. She balanced the basket on her head and sang and irrigated the fields while chatting with maids of her age. She was the girl of the village, dearest to the villagers. She would go shopping for someone, babysit somebody’s child and pound rice at someone else’s home. Some gave her used clothes, maybe an old tattered sari, and she would be happy and content with that. She never shed tears at her situation. If ever she heard a song or drumbeat she would be the first one to reach there. Her heart was hungry for happiness. Life wasn’t lonely or complicated for her. Life was a gift for her and she enjoyed it. She attained womanhood. Her eyes sparkled. She was brimming with youthfulness. The village dwellers started thinking about her marriage. How can a grown girl remain unmarried in the village? Their morals did not allow this. They consulted among themselves over the issue. Some gave grains, some gave money, and the search for a groom commenced.

  2

  Gujrati’s condition at her in-laws’ house was worse than her condition in the village. Her husband, Ram Ratan, was a water distributor at the nearby railway station. He was rude and short-tempered by nature. Gujrati was self-sufficient and earned her own bread by grinding wheat at the station. But this did not make Ram Ratan any less dominant or strict with her. He appeared to be a very lively and content man from the outside. But the moment he stepped into the house he behaved like someone possessed by a spirit. Probably he was suspicious of her. He didn’t want Gujrati to develop any kind of rapport with anybody. And this was impossible for Gujrati. Till now she had led a free life. She couldn’t bear this life of confinement. This freedom had kept her free of the worries of running the house. Besides the regular wages, Ram Ratan earned something extra every day. Moreover, he sold water at the price of milk. He called out to sell water and paced from one end of the train to the other quite briskly. He probably thought that his welcome voice was enough to soothe the passengers. People shouted ‘Water’ from all sides, but he didn’t pay attention to them until they stood up, moved towards him and implored him for water. Even then, if he was not content he would vent his anger at her. But for Gujrati this had become a day-to-day affair. It had a minimal effect on her happy temperament and spirit of freedom.

  3

  Gujrati had been married for five years when I returned to my village. Plague had spread in the city. Otherwise what pleasure does the city dweller get in the countryside? It was monsoon. Many married girls were back at the homes of their parents from the houses of their in-laws. When they received news of my arrival, all of them came to see me—Gujrati was also one of them. Her face wasn’t as lively as before. It was the last night of the month. The morning wasn’t as bright as the other days. She had a moon-like baby in her arms. I went to embrace her and took the baby in my arms and froze for a moment. He was completely blind. I asked Gujrati, ‘Did the child suffer a dreadful disease or has he been blind since birth?’

  Gujrati said with tearful eyes, ‘No, sister, he had smallpox that took away his eyes. I prayed and made offerings but yet the Devi took away his eyes. His life was spared, this is enough.’

  ‘The poor fellow’s life has been ruined.’

  ‘It was God’s wish, what could anyone do?’

  ‘Is his father working at the same station?’

  Tears fell from Gujrati’s swollen eyes. She said, ‘God has called him. It has been a year. He was still serving water to one of the passengers when the train started. The passenger was taking out money from his pocket. He bent down to take the money when the train picked up speed. I don’t know how he fell down. He was crushed on the tracks. Seeing his face was also not in my fate. Since then I’ve come here. I labour and work hard and somehow spend my days. May my child live with your blessings! I don’t want anything else. I’ve been brought up here and will die here.’

  The following day was Naag Panchami.1 Girls of all ages from the village decked themselves up and headed towards the fair with their pots. The fair was held beside a lake. The naag was worshipped there. He was offered rice and milk. Gujrati was also happy in the festive ambience. Her lyrical voice drew people to her. She continued to do good work even though her mind was burdened with sorrow.

  I stayed in my village till the monsoons. Women gathered to sing every other day. Swang and mimicry were held. Gujrati was the life and soul of these events. I never saw her cursing her fate or destiny. Life is a gift. Her life was a living example of this fact.

  After this I didn’t get the opportunity to visit my village for a long time. Plague broke out every year but now we had become used to it.

  Ten years passed by. One day Gujrati sent me an invitation through a barber. I read the invitation and accepted it unhesitatingly. Gujrati had built a new house of her own. The house-warming ceremony was being organized with great pomp. Gujrati implored me to come saying that if I didn’t she’d be sad and wouldn’t ever show her face to me. I was wondering what had led her to build a new house. It was difficult for her to afford two square meals a day. Why did she build this house? I reached my village on the appointed day. Gujrati was extremely happy like a blind person whose sight has been restored. She fell at my feet and said that she was sure that I would definitely come: ‘My heart said that you haven’t forgotten me.’ She took me to her new house which was made of mud but had a well-paved floor. There was a large courtyard at the doorway. There was a cemented well on one end and adjacent to that was a Shiva temple. The inner courtyard was also wide, there were verandas on four sides, the rooms were well ventilated and a sweet smell emanated from the newly plastered mud walls. Though the sun was strong outside, it was quite cool inside the room.

  I said, ‘Such a building won’t be found in the entire village. I’m so happy to see it.’

  Gujrati replied gracefully, ‘It happened because of the
strength of your prayers. I had only one desire and that has been fulfilled. For the past eight years I’ve been working tirelessly. I ground four kilos of wheat every night. I laboured the whole day. I sewed clothes for the entire village. And to tell the truth, if it hadn’t been for the kindness of the villagers, I don’t know what would have happened to me. Someone gave wood, some gave bamboo and the house was ready. The boy that I gave birth to has to be provided with a livelihood. Had he not been blind, I wouldn’t have been so worried; he would have worked and earned his bread. But since God took away his eyes, it’s my responsibility to provide him with a place to live. Or else who will take care of him? Had his father been alive he would have discharged this responsibility. Now I have to take up this responsibility. Nothing can be gained by mourning him and cursing one’s fate.’

  Meanwhile, Gujrati’s son also arrived. He had a saffron-coloured kurta on him. The dhoti was yellow in colour and he was wearing kharau. His face radiated innocence. Gujrati said, ‘Son, your aunt has come. Read out something to her.’

  Immediately, the boy lowered his head to touch my feet and started chanting a holy verse in Sanskrit. His voice and articulation was so touching that I couldn’t stop my tears. I wish he had eyes, who knows what he would have done? Nature had balanced this loss by giving him such a voice.