by Premchand
1
Keshav was an old rival of mine and in every walk of life was one step ahead of me. His accomplishments cast him as a bright star on the horizon. The brilliant array of Keshav’s talents overshadowed my ordinary life, which paled in comparison. If there was one longing in my mind, it was to outshine him in some sphere of life. In spite of my best efforts this desire was not fulfilled. I did not recognize it then but I was actually devoid of the natural talent that he possessed. My only consolation was that though he outshone me intellectually I was sure I would steal the spotlight in everyday life and hopefully in matters of love. Unfortunately, when we both plunged into the sea of love it seemed that the pearl had come to his hand and not mine and this filled me with despair.
Our professor, Babu Haridas Bhatia, though not aspiring to wealth in principle, was not indifferent to it either. He preferred me to the brilliant Keshav for his daughter, Lajjawati. One evening he came to my room and said in a worried tone, ‘Sharda Charan, for months I have been worried about something that only you can solve. I do not have a son of my own, and I have always regarded you and Keshav as my sons. Though he is more brilliant and scholarly than you, I feel that he won’t achieve worldly success as you would. I have chosen you for Lajjawati. Can I hope that you will accept her?’
I was as free as a bird since my parents had left the world when I was a child. There was no one in my family whose consent was necessary. Any man would think himself lucky to have a wife as beautiful, affectionate and sweet-tempered as Lajjawati. I was beside myself with joy. Lajjawati was like a garden in full bloom with the refreshing fragrance of roses and the life-sustaining lushness of vegetation. There was the tumult of the morning breeze and the chirping of lovely birds. She was also a thinker and believer in socialist ideologies. Several times she engaged me in discussions about women’s rights and important political issues. Unlike Professor Bhatia hers was not mere lip service to principles. She wanted to act on them. The enlightened Keshav was her preferred choice. However, I knew that Professor Bhatia’s wish was mandatory for her. As for me, I respected her wishes and supported total freedom in this matter. That is why I could not enjoy the discomfort and despair of Keshav as I had desired. Both of us were drowned in our sorrows. For the first time I felt sympathy for Keshav. I just wanted to ask Lajjawati why she considered me beneath her attention. But I was hesitant to broach such a delicate subject with her face to face. This was only natural, because no girl in such circumstances would like to open her heart to anyone. Lajjawati thought that it was her duty to make her secret wishes known to me. She was looking for an opportunity, and such an opportunity soon presented itself.
It was evening and Keshav had gone to the Rajput hostel to read his article on socialism. Professor Bhatia was chairing the session. Lajjawati was sitting in the bungalow alone. Hiding my secret heartache and burning in sorrow and jealousy, I sat beside her. She looked at me from the corner of her eye and said in a piteous tone, ‘You are looking sad.’ I feigned indifference and said, ‘As if you care!’ My eyes began to spit fire. However, I controlled myself and said, ‘I was not feeling well.’ While saying this, tears began to stream down my eyes. I didn’t want to awaken her sympathy with my tears. I always thought that crying was reserved for women. I wanted to be angry, but tears began to fall from my eyes. Emotion does not always obey one’s intention.
By now Lajjawati could guess my sincerity and love for her. She began to cry. I’m not a mean person. I have never nursed any bitterness against anyone. But I don’t know why at that moment I felt happy at Lajjawati’s crying. But even in her state of distress I couldn’t resist the temptation to mock her. ‘Lajja, I’m lamenting my fate. Probably I’m complaining against your cruelty. But why are you crying?’
Lajjawati looked at me reproachfully and said, ‘You won’t understand the secret of these tears because you have never tried to understand me. You try to derive pleasure by mocking me. Who can I mock? How do you know how much restraint I have to exercise on myself? How much patience, how many nights I had to spend crying and turning from side to side before coming to a decision. Your aristocratic family, your estate and wealth—all these stand as a barrier in my way. I know that at this moment you are oblivious to your family and your estate. But I also know that your thoughts nurtured in the cool shade of the college cannot put up with the real challenges of life for long. You might regret your decision afterwards and repent it. I don’t want to be a thorn in your flesh.
I softened a little and said, ‘The circumstances that you say would destroy my thoughts, would they not have a similar effect on your thoughts too?’
Lajjawati said, ‘No, I am absolutely certain that they won’t have any effect on me. My family never possessed an estate. My father has obtained his current position through his hard work and by giving private tuitions. I will never have the vanity of possessing estates and mansions. Just as you can never obliterate vanity from your mind, I will never acquire it without destroying myself.’
I said in a spirited voice, ‘Well, I cannot obliterate family pride. This is beyond my power. But I can give up the estate from today for you. I will donate it to some good cause and both of us can earn our livelihood through our work.’
A cruel smile played on Lajjawati’s lips when she said, ‘This is an emotional response. Emotion cannot guide us in a matter which determines the future of two lives. Sharda, to tell you the truth I do not yet know in which direction the boat of my life will sail. But I am constrained by circumstances. I do not want to poison your life.’
When I left her I was more thoughtful than depressed because Lajjawati had presented me with a new problem.
2
Sharda Charan
Keshav and I did our MA in the same year. Keshav passed in the first division, I in the second. He got a job as a lecturer in a college in Nagpur. I returned home and began to manage my estate. While parting we hugged and said a tearful farewell to each other. We left behind our rivalry and jealousy in college.
I was the first landowner of the region who had obtained an MA. In the beginning the government officials welcomed me enthusiastically, but when they came to know about my ideological leanings, they turned rather cold. I also gave up socializing with them and spent most of my time on my courses.
In less than a year, a position in the council fell vacant because of the death of a landowner. I did not make any individual efforts to enter the council, but the farmers gave me the responsibility of representing them. Poor Keshav could be giving lectures in his college; no one knew where he was and what he was doing. I became a member of the council because of my family lineage. My speeches were published in the newspapers. The questions I raised in the council were appreciated. I gained a special status in the council; several gentlemen were there who supported socialism. Initially they had been subdued because of the controlling circumstances, but now they opened up. We formed a separate party of socialists and became activists for the rights of the farmers. Most of the landowners ignored me, and some among them threatened me. But I did not leave my appointed path. How could I ignore this opportunity for service to the people? Before the end of two years I began to be counted as one of the chief leaders of the nation. I had to work hard, I had to read, write and speak endlessly but that did not deter me. For this diligence I was indebted to Keshav as he had made me accustomed to it.
Keshav and Professor Bhatia used to write me letters regularly. Sometimes I also met Lajjawati. From her letters it was evident that her respect and love for me were increasing day by day. She would describe my service to the nation in very generous and encouraging words. Her initial apprehension about me was disappearing. My dedication was bearing fruit. Keshav’s letters spoke of his despair because his academic life was not prosperous and even after three years he was not promoted. From his letters it seemed as though he was not content with his life. Probably the main reason for this was that his golden dream remained unfulfilled. In the third year, Professor Bhatia came to see
me during the summer vacation and returned very happily. After a week Lajjawati’s letter came. The court had declared its verdict. I was awarded my degree and for the first time in our competition Keshav was defeated.
There was no limit to my joy. Professor Bhatia had intended to travel to all the corners of the country. He was writing a book on socialism for which he needed to do research in every major town. He wanted Lajjawati to accompany him. It was decided that in the next Chait season, after he returned from his travels, we would be united. I spent the days of separation impatiently. So far I had felt that Keshav would win the battle. I was frustrated, but I had peace of mind. Now I had hope but my peace would be disturbed.
3
It was the month of March and the days of waiting and hard work were over. It was time to reap the harvest. The professor wrote a letter from Dhaka to inform me that due to some unforeseen reasons he would not be able to return in March, but would do so in May. In the meantime, the Diwan Sahib of the state of Kashmir, Lala Somnath Kapur, came to Nainital on vacation. The governor threw a party in his honour. All the members of the council received invitations. Members of different parties made the customary speeches. On behalf of the council I played the role of the host. Diwan Sahib was highly impressed by my speech. While leaving, he shook hands with me as a special gesture and invited me to come to his place. He was accompanied by his daughter, Sushila, who stood behind him with her head lowered. I could not control my gaze. During the conversation she stood up several times but drew back like a child who leaps towards a stranger but withdraws to her mother’s lap, frightened. Sushila was an undercurrent of cool water while Lajjawati was a flowering garden where there were bowers of trees, lush vegetation, musical cascades and antelopes absorbed in their games. The whole scene was tinted with the colors of nature that made a deep impression on one’s mind. As I reached home I was so tired, as though I had returned after a long journey. The appeal of beauty is eternal. I didn’t know why its impact was so deep.
As I lay down, her image was before me. I wanted to drive it away. I was afraid that even a moment’s lack of caution would drown me. I already belonged to Lajjawati. She was the owner of my heart. I had no control over it. But all my precautions and mental arguments were in vain. Who can stop the boat from floating away in a flood? Helpless, I set my boat free to sail in the realm of imagination. It floated with the waves for some time and then disappeared and became a part of the deluge.
On the following day, I arrived at the bungalow of Diwan Sahib at the appointed hour. I was hesitant and my feet trembled. Just as a baby shuts his or her eyes at the peal of thunder, I was afraid that he might ask me questions. Even a simple farmer would not be so afraid in a court of law. Actually, I was so overwhelmed that I didn’t have the strength to face the situation.
Diwan Sahib shook hands with me with great warmth. For about an hour he talked about the problems of the nation and its economy. I was amazed by his broad range of knowledge. I had never seen such a witty person with such a rich repertoire of jokes. He was sixty, but his elegance and pleasant temperament had their appeal. He knew by heart many poetic couplets and slokas. Diwan-e-Hafiz was on the tip of his tongue. I glanced frequently in all directions with restless eyes. My ears were alert to hear her voice. My eyes were here and my heart was somewhere else. There was bitterness along with joy.
It was nine at night, time for me to leave. I was embarrassed because Diwan Sahib might have suspicions about me. He might think that I have no other work. Why was I not leaving? After two and a half hours, the discussions were over. The fun of his jokes had also been exhausted. The visit was overtaken by melancholy, as happens after a spirited conversation. Several times, I intended to get up. But a lover cannot even die while waiting. By nine-thirty, I had no choice but to leave. My longings came to an end.
When I left the bungalow, I was drowned in sorrow and felt so drained, as though life had gone out of me. I began to hate myself. I reproached myself for my stupidity. You think that you are somebody. But here no one cares about you. No one cares about your existence or the lack of it. From all the signs she appeared to be an unmarried girl but there is no dearth of unmarried girls in the world. There’s no lack of beauty either. If the sight of every beautiful and unmarried girl reduces you to such a state then your life will be destroyed.
This is how the heart responded. Her heart reacted in the same way. In all probability her heart might also be presenting the same arguments. Why should she be attracted towards every handsome and soft-spoken male that she met? If it is a cause of infamy for man, it is simply ruin for women.
On the second day in the evening I was sitting on the veranda of my bungalow and reading the newspaper. I didn’t feel like going to the club. I was feeling lethargic. At that moment I saw Diwan Sahib riding on his phaeton and passing by. Sushila was sitting by him. I had the impression that she was looking at me, though I couldn’t say whether she raised her eyes. But I kept on staring at the phaeton until it disappeared.
The next day I was again sitting on the veranda. My eyes were fixed on the road. The phaeton came and left. Now it became their daily routine. My duty for the day comprised of sitting on the veranda. I had no idea when the phaeton would pass. I didn’t like to budge an inch from my position, particularly in the late afternoon. A month passed and I had no interest in the affairs of the council any more. I had no interest in debates, and the affairs of the nation did not interest me. I also didn’t feel like travelling. I don’t know why lovers tend to move towards the desert. It was as though my feet were chained. I sat on the veranda, waiting for the phaeton. Probably my logical thinking had also stopped. At least once a week I could have gone to Diwan Sahib’s place, and I could have invited him to mine. But actually, I was still afraid and worried. I considered Lajjawati to be my heart’s queen, even though another woman might have occupied it for a couple of days. A full month passed and I did not write even a letter to Lajjawati. Probably I had no strength left to write even a letter, or perhaps I didn’t have the moral courage to do so. I was guilty and I didn’t like to involve her even with my thoughts.
What will be the result of this? My heart was always bothered by this thought. I had no interest in any object of the world and, day after day, I withdrew into myself. My friends would often ask whether I was all right, because my face looked pale and dull. I ate food as though it were medicine. When I went to sleep it was as though someone had imprisoned me in a cage. If someone came to see me it seemed as though creditors had come to demand money. It was a strange situation.
One day Diwan Sahib’s phaeton came and stopped at my doorstep. He had had a collection of his speeches published, and came to present me a copy. I requested him to take a seat but he said, ‘Sushila might feel awkward to sit here. She is sitting alone in the phaeton and might be worried.’ Saying this, he left. I also went with him back to the phaeton. When he took his seat I looked at Sushila without fear. I did not know when I would have another such golden opportunity. The longing, yearning, restlessness, helplessness and devotion in my glance could have melted even a stone. Sushila was, after all, a human being. She looked at me candidly, fearlessly, with no trace of embarrassment. I felt as though she had mesmerized me with her glance. She breathed new life into my heart and my soul, as though she had saved a drowning man. When I turned back towards the veranda I was so happy, as if I had acquired the wealth of the world. That one glance was no less than the wealth of the richest person in the world.
The next day I wrote a letter to Professor Bhatia informing him that I was infected with a disease which could be the beginning of tuberculosis. I used the illness as a reason to break the contract. I wanted to be separated from Lajjawati in a way that my honour would not be lowered in her eyes. Sometimes I felt annoyed by my own selfishness. Betraying Lajjawati lowered me in my own eyes. I began to hate myself but I was also helpless. What a shock it must be to her! This thought made me cry several times. Sushila was still a bundle o
f secrets to me. I was sacrificing my long-time longing at the altar of her beauty like children who spurn their milk and rice when they see sweets. I had requested the professor not to mention my condition to Lajjawati. But on the fourth day I received a letter from Lajjawati in which she poured out her heart. She was ready to undergo all suffering because of me, even the travails of widowhood. She expressed the desire that we should be united as soon as possible. Even a day’s delay would be painful. I held the letter in my hand for hours and sat as though in a trance.
4
Lajjawati
Didn’t Savitri marry Satyavan even after knowing his condition? Why should I be afraid? Why should I stray from my path of duty? I will take vows for him, will go on a pilgrimage and will undertake meditation. Fear cannot separate him from me. I was never so deeply in love with him. I was never so restless. This is the hour of my trial and I have decided what I have to do. Babuji has just returned from his journey, his hands are empty. He could not make any preparations for marriage! If there was a delay for two or three months he would have found time for preparations. But I will not delay any more. He and I will be united this month. Our souls will come together forever, and then no calamity, no accident, can separate me from him.
Now, the delay of even a day is unbearable to me. I’m not a slave to rituals and customs, nor is he. Babuji is also not attached to rituals, then why shouldn’t I start for Nainital soon? I will look after him and give him solace. I will release him from all worries and hurdles. I’ll take the management of the whole estate in my own hands. He has come to this state because he was working day and night for the council. The newspapers are filled with his discussions, his speeches and his questions. I’ll request him to tender his resignation from the council for a couple of days. How eagerly he listens to my songs. I’ll entertain him by singing songs to him, reading stories to him, and thus keep him relaxed in all possible ways. There is no proper treatment for this ailment available in this country. I’ll fall at his feet and request him to go to some sanatorium in Europe and undertake proper treatment. I’ll go to the college tomorrow and get some books from the library on this disease and will study them carefully. The college will be closed in two or three days. I will broach the subject of going to Nainital with my father today.