The Complete Short Stories

by Premchand

  The women sang auspicious songs as soon as the groom mounted the horse. Flowers rained down on him. The marriage party began to march forward. But the horse was determined not to budge an inch. The groom spurred it on, whipped it, and even tightened the reins, but it seemed as if the beast’s limbs had been firmly cemented into the ground.

  Munshiji was so furious that he would have shot the beast had it been his own pet. One of his friends said, ‘It’s quite headstrong. This won’t work. Try beating it from the back and it’ll change its mind.’

  Munshiji welcomed this proposition. He struck the beast several times from the back but to no avail. It only raised its forelegs towards the sky. Once or twice, it even attacked with its hind legs, which meant that it was not completely passive. Munshiji barely escaped the horse’s retaliation.

  Another friend said, ‘Why don’t you light a fire near its tail? The fear of the flame should do the trick.’

  This proposition too was welcomed and the horse’s tail was completely burnt. Twice or thrice, it jumped around the place in agony, but still refused to move forward. The horse was a true satyagrahi and the torment had perhaps further hardened its resolve.

  Meanwhile, the sun had begun to set. Panditji said, ‘Hurry, or the auspicious hour will soon pass.’ But how could one hurry? It was not as if anything could be done about the matter. The marriage party had arrived outside the village. Women and children had assembled there in large numbers. People began murmuring, ‘What kind of a horse is it if it doesn’t take even a step forward?’ An experienced person added, ‘This beating won’t do. Order some corn. Someone could lead the way with the corn in the nosebag. The bait should do the rest.’ Munshiji even tried this idea, but he simply could not succeed. The horse did not want to trade its liberty at any price. Another man suggested, ‘Give it some wine. It’ll start prancing around once it gets drunk.’ A bottle of wine was ordered. The liquor was poured into a trough and placed before the horse. But it did not even sniff at it.

  What could one do now? The evening lamps had been lit and the auspicious hour had passed. The horse was quite pleased with itself, having successfully endured these various misfortunes. It actually revelled in the wretchedness and bewilderment of those who had disturbed its sense of peace. I’ll see what they do next. It knew that it would not be beaten any more. People had already realized the futility of this. The beast was just contemplating its own skills and ingenuity.

  Meanwhile, a fifth person said, ‘Now, there’s only one way out. Put a cart before the horse and place its forelegs inside it. That way it’ll have to move its limbs the moment we begin pulling the wagon away. Once the forelegs start moving, the hind limbs will inevitably be set in motion. The horse will be walking before you know it.’

  Munshiji’s situation was that of a drowning man who clutches at straws. Two men fetched a cart while the groom tightened the reins further. A few people stood before the horse with sticks in their hands. Two more forcefully raised its forelimbs and kept them on the wagon. The horse had been under the impression that it could spoil even such a plan. But once the cart started moving, its hind legs were inevitably set in motion. It felt as if it was being carried away by an unstoppable water current. The more it struggled to anchor its limbs, the more it was at its wits’ end. Everywhere, one could hear the chorus, ‘It’s walking! It’s walking!’ People clapped, guffawed, and made fun of the beast. This manner of contempt and ridicule was simply insufferable, but what could the animal do? Of course, it did not lose its patience. It reflected, How far can they carry me away like this? I’ll stop as soon as the cart comes to a standstill. I made a huge mistake putting my forelimbs on the wagon.

  The situation unfolded exactly as the beast had expected. Somehow or the other, people dragged the cart for a hundred steps or so and then gave up. Had the station been only another one hundred or two hundred steps further, they probably would not have lost heart. But it was still three miles away! Dragging the horse for so long was simply out of the question. The horse stopped as soon as the cart halted. The groom shook the reins again and tried to spur it on. He whipped it several times but the horse was equally up to the task. Its nostrils were bleeding, its entire body had been flayed and its hind limbs had suffered bruises. But the resolute beast stood its ground, defending its dignity.

  5

  The priest concluded, ‘It’s almost eight now and the auspicious hour is way past us.’ The frail and wretched beast had won the day. Munshiji’s anger, which had been driving him insane, now made him weep as well. The groom could not take a step further because it was considered taboo for him to keep his feet on the ground after the marriage procession had begun its journey. It would be a cause for criticism; one’s reputation would be damaged, and the family name besmirched. But it now appeared as if walking was the Hobson’s choice. Munshiji stood before the horse and said in a frustrated tone, ‘Oh boy, thank your stars that you’re Mir Sahib’s property. Had I been your master, I would’ve given you a sound thrashing. That being said, today I’ve seen how even a beast can defend its liberty. I never knew that you’d stay true to your resolve. Son, you can get off the horse now. The marriage party must be nearing the station. Come, let’s walk along. The dozen-odd men that we have here are all like brothers to one another. So, there’s no cause for humiliation. And why don’t you take off this fine coat of yours? People on the way will make fun of us if they realize that you’re walking to the bride’s house. And, you stubborn beast, come, let me take you back to your master.’

  Translated from the Hindi by Shailendra Kumar Singh

  Cobra Worship

  1

  It was morning and the first few showers of the month of Asarh were over. Creepy-crawlies could be seen everywhere. Tilottama looked at the garden and saw trees and plants washed clean just as dirty clothes are cleaned after being washed with soap. They were bathed in a strange spiritual light, as though they were yogis lost in divine joy. The birds were chirping around branches and foliage. Tilottama went out into the garden, as restless as the birds. She looked at plants, she shook drops of water collected on the flower petals and sprinkled her face with the cool water. Little red velvet-skinned mites were crawling. She picked them from the ground and placed them in her palm. Suddenly, she saw a big, dark snake. She cried out, ‘Amma, naagji is coming, give me some milk in a bowl for him.’

  Amma said, ‘Let him be. He must have come out to take fresh air.’

  ‘Where does he go in the summer? He’s not seen then.’

  ‘He doesn’t go anywhere. He takes rest in his burrow.’

  ‘And he doesn’t go anywhere?’

  ‘Beti, he is our deity. Why should he go anywhere else? Since the year of your birth he has always been seen here. He doesn’t speak to anyone. The children might run past him, he doesn’t look at them. No one has seen him catch even a mouse.’

  ‘What does he eat then?’

  ‘Beti, they live on air; that’s why their souls are divine. They can remember their past birth. They also know what is going to happen in the future. When some great yogi becomes vain, as a punishment he has to take this birth. As long as the penance is not complete, they have to live the life of a snake. Some of them live up to one hundred or even two hundred years.’

  ‘If we don’t worship him, what can he do?’

  ‘Beti, what a childish question! If he gets angry then all sorts of calamities may befall you. He was seen first in the year of your birth, from then on he has been seen five to ten times a year. It is due to his influence that no one has had as much as a headache in this area.’

  2

  Several years passed and Tilottama grew from a girl to a woman. The auspicious occasion of her marriage came. The wedding party arrived and the marriage ceremony took place. The moment finally arrived for Tilottama to go to her husband’s house.

  The new bride was being dressed and there was commotion both inside and outside the house. It looked almost like a stampede. Tilot
tama’s heart was filled with the sorrow of parting. She wanted to sit in a solitary corner and cry her heart out. Today she would be separated from her parents, brothers and sisters and friends. She didn’t know when she would be able to meet them again. She didn’t know what kind of people she’d have to deal with now. What would their nature be and how would they treat her? Amma’s eyes would not stop shedding tears even for a moment. If I left home even for a day she would cry bitterly. How will she bear this separation for life? If she had a headache she felt comforted only when I gave her a gentle massage. Who will prepare paan for Babuji? He didn’t find anything to his taste if I did not prepare the milk. Who will prepare his meal now? How will I live without seeing him? Here, even if I had a mild headache, Amma and Babuji would feel upset and call the hakim or a vaid. I don’t know how they will treat me there. How will I live in an enclosed house? I have no idea whether they have an open terrace. Even if there is one, who will allow me to sleep there? I will die from suffocation. If I wake up a little late, people will taunt me. Here if someone tries to wake me in the morning, Amma asks him or her not to and allows me to sleep. If I wake up from incomplete sleep, she says I’ll get a headache. There I’ll have to listen to people’s taunts. ‘She’s very lazy, keeps on lying on her bed through the day.’ He looks very gentle, but somewhat wan. What if he turns out to be cruel-hearted?

  Suddenly, her mother arrived and said, ‘Beti, I forgot to tell you something. You must worship the naag there and even if others in the family forbid you, consider it your duty. A little while ago my eyes had closed for a moment. Naag Baba had come to me in my dream.’

  Tilottama replied, ‘Amma, he has also paid me a visit, but he showed me one of his terrible forms. It was a nightmare.’

  ‘Just see, no one should kill a snake in your house. And here you are, keep this mantra close to you always.’

  Tilottama could hardly reply when someone among the bridegroom’s party started crying. The atmosphere changed in a moment. There was a terrible incident. The bridegroom was bitten by a snake. He was coming to arrange for the departure of the bride. In the palanquin, under the seat, was a black snake. The moment he sat in the palanquin the snake bit him.

  There was commotion all around. It was as though Tilottama was struck by a bolt of lightning. Her mother started crying and beating her head. Her father, Babu Jagdish Chandra, lost consciousness and fell down. He was a heart patient. The sorcerers and doctors were called but the poison was fatal. The lips of the bridegroom turned pale. His nails became dark and he became unconscious. The body slowly turned cold. While the twilight sun illuminated the surroundings outside, this burning lamp was snuffed out.

  Tilottama’s condition was somewhat like a man sitting in a boat loaded with sacks who wonders irrationally why the boat is not going faster, why there is no room for him to sit peacefully, and why it has tilted so much. But when the same boat enters a whirlpool he catches the mast to save his life. Although Tilottama was drowned in the sorrow of parting, she now realized that she was also drowning along with the boat. She was thinking of the difficulties and inconvenience that she would face in her husband’s house. The man she considered to be a robber became very dear to her. Without him her life was snuffed out like a lamp, like a tree without flowers or fruits. A moment ago, she had been an object of jealousy, now she was an object of kindness and pity.

  In a few days she realized that, deprived of her husband, she was robbed of all the pleasures of life.

  3

  A year passed. Jagdish Chandra was a truly religious person, but he couldn’t bear Tilottama’s widowhood. He decided to get her married again. The fun-lovers laughed but Jagdish Chandra took decisions from his heart. Everybody at home was deeply attached to Tilottama. Nothing was done against her wishes, and in fact she had been made the mistress of the house. Everybody took special care to keep her sorrow at bay. But there was sadness all over her face, which made the people around her sad.

  Initially, even her mother didn’t agree to the idea of Tilottama’s remarriage, but as opposition from the community increased, her resistance lost steam. In principle, probably no one had any objection but nobody had the courage to implement it. After several months of searching, a high-caste, idealistic and educated groom was found. The members of his family also gave their consent. It made Tilottama sad to see her name discussed in society. She felt bad that her father was becoming a laughing stock. If I had domestic bliss in my destiny such calamity wouldn’t have befallen me. She had the apprehension that she’d once again become a widow. When the marriage was fixed and the groom’s photograph was brought before her, her eyes filled with tears. There was decency, strength of will and thoughtfulness oozing from his face. Carrying the photograph she went to her mother, lowered her head in shyness and said, ‘Amma, I shouldn’t be opening my mouth, but the situation is such that I can’t stay silent. Tell father my answer is “no”. I am satisfied with my fate. I’m afraid that this time there may be another sad incident . . .’

  Her mother looked at her with frightened eyes and said, ‘Beti, why are you uttering such inauspicious words? Fear has taken over your heart. Whatever had to happen has happened. Now will God be after your life?’

  ‘Yes, I feel so.’

  ‘Why, why do you feel so?’

  ‘I don’t know why. Something in my mind tells me that I’ll be visited again by the calamity. Often I see nightmares. At night, I feel that some creature resembling a snake is circling my bed. I keep silent because of fear and don’t tell anyone anything.’

  Her mother thought it was all an illusion. The marriage date was fixed. It was not only an effort to rehabilitate Tilottama but a shining example of social reform. Teams of social reformers began to arrive from distant places. The marriage was held according to the Vedic custom. The guests described the incident in glowing terms. Newspapers carried accounts. Everyone praised Jagdish Chandra’s moral courage. On the third day, it was the hour for the bride’s departure. All preparations were made for the security of the bridegroom’s party. Electric lights illuminated the place so well that it seemed as though it was day and not night. Even the ants crawling on earth could be seen. Screen walls were erected around the shamiana. There was no way for insects and creepy-crawlies to come in, but fate is all-powerful. It was four in the morning. The constellations of stars were disappearing from the sky. Preparations began for the parting of the bride. On the one side, the music of the shehnai was playing and on the other, one could hear the sound of lamentation. But there were no tears in Tilottama’s eyes. Time was delicate because she wanted to leave the house by any means. A sword was hanging over her head. There was no pleasure in crying and hugging her friends. It is no surprise that a creature with a burning boil will prefer the house of a surgeon rather than walking in the garden.

  People awakened the groom. The music started. He went to sit in the palanquin so that the bride could be taken away. He had just put one of his feet inside the shoe when he pulled it back with a shriek. It seemed as though his foot had stepped on fire. He saw a black snake coming out of the shoe and crawling away; it vanished in no time. The groom sighed and sat up. Darkness enveloped his eyes.

  In an instant, the news spread within the community. The medicines had been kept handy. Several people who knew the mantra to ward off snakebite had been called. The medicines were administered. Charms and incantations were tried, but nothing could stand up to fate. Probably death had come in the form of a snake. When Tilottama heard it she was stunned. Terribly upset, she ran towards the janwasa, where the marriage party was staying. She didn’t have the sense to wrap a shawl over her body. She wanted to kiss the feet of her husband that would fulfil her status as a woman. The women of the family tried to stop her. Her mother also tried to reason with her. But Jagdish Chandra said, ‘Let her go. Let her see her husband. Let her desire be fulfilled.’ In this sorrowful state, she reached the janwasa, but the person who could have provided her solace was gasping for br
eath and was going to die. There was unbearable pain and despair in those half-closed eyes.

  4

  The account of this strange incident spread far and wide. The positivists were surprised at the happenings. The spiritualists nodded their heads knowingly as though they were omniscient. Jagdish Chandra had tried his fate. It was proven that his daughter was fated to remain a widow. The naag began to be worshipped ceremonially twice a year. A special transformation took place in Tilottama’s nature. Her days of fun and frolic were replaced by devotion and the worship of gods. This is the last resort of frustrated creatures.

  After three years, Dayaram, a professor at Dacca University, revived the memory of this event. He was a veterinarian. He had studied the behaviour of snakes closely and wanted to unravel this mystery. He sent a proposal of marriage to Jagdish Chandra, who didn’t give a clear answer. Dayaram tried to persuade him saying that he had undertaken this resolve in the interest of scientific research. He wanted to fight this poisonous naag. ‘Even if he bites a hundred times, nothing will happen to me. On the contrary, he’ll die after biting me. Even if he injects poison into me through his bites, I’ve got such antidotes that would neutralize his poison in an instant. Don’t worry about me. I’m immune to poison.’ Jagdish Chandra couldn’t find any more excuses. Of course, he made efforts that the marriage could be organized in Dacca. He arrived there with his relatives a week before the wedding. While departing from home he searched the boxes and beds thoroughly lest the snake lay hidden somewhere. The marriage was solemnized at the auspicious hour. Tilottama felt unsettled. Her face was losing colour every moment, but the rituals went on uninterrupted. Tilottama went to her husband’s house. Jagdish Chandra returned home, but was mortally worried about what was going to happen.