The Complete Short Stories

by Premchand

  A second lady ventured, ‘It’s a question of luck. If joy is everyone’s lot then who will weep? From morning to evening I am busy with household chores. Then the children! One is laid up with diarrhoea while the other is running a fever. I spend the day cursing my luck, running about like a puppet.’

  To this the third lady retorted, ‘It’s not a question of luck. Your heart should be contented. Otherwise you could be complaining even if you were seated on a throne.’

  At this an old woman snapped, ‘Damn such a heart. Your house is burning; you are vilified from every side. You are caught up in your revelry, oblivious to everything else. Is this a heart or a stone?’

  This rebuke made the women hang their heads in shame. They had wanted to belittle Jogeshwari. The open attack inflicted a direct wound. The topic was changed. Attention shifted to women’s education. But Jogeshwari was suitably chastened. She narrated the whole story to her husband once the women left.

  Hridaynath got flustered. He was not one of those good souls who blow the trumpet of their emancipation without bothering about public opinion.

  ‘Now what?’ he asked.

  ‘You think of something.’

  ‘These people are not to blame. Even I have noticed a change in Kailashi. I guess we have failed in our intention.’

  ‘Kailashi might kill herself.’

  ‘We will have to change her perception.’

  ‘It’s going to be difficult.’

  2

  Gradually, changes began to be made. Hridaynath played the gramophone less frequently. He took to reciting the scriptures. The mother–daughter duo remained busy with spiritual matters. Kailash Kumari was formally initiated into the spiritual path. Now they would go to the Ganga not for a pleasant trip but for a holy dip before heading for the temple. They fasted twice a month. Initially Kailash Kumari found this new life dreary and difficult but when a woman begins to believe in something, she does it with complete devotion. In a short period her interest in these matters increased.

  She was now in her sixteenth year and keenly aware of her situation. She began to abhor recreation of any kind. The idea that widowhood was a punishment for some grave sin began to take root in her.

  ‘I must have done some wrong in my past life. If my husband were alive I would have become engrossed in worldly matters and deprived of the chance of self-improvement. Guruji was right: God has provided me with a means of salvation. Widowhood is not a punishment but a way to salvation through abstinence and piety.’

  After some time, Kailash Kumari was so influenced by spiritual matters that she began to show an aversion to everything else. She refused to touch anyone. She began to shun her maids and would not even embrace her friends. She refused to eat anything cooked or touched by others. She bathed a number of times a day and buried herself in scriptures. The company of sadhus and pious men gave her solace. The arrival of any pious men in the town made her restless to visit them. The world made her weary and she often fell into a trance-like state. She would meditate for hours. She began to abhor societal bindings. After three years of being like this she decided that she wanted to become a sanyasi. When her parents heard, they were shocked. Jogeshwari tried to make her see reason.

  ‘Child, you are too young for these things.’

  Kailash Kumari: ‘It is better to rid oneself of worldly desires as early as possible.’

  Hridaynath: ‘Can’t this asceticism be practised at home?’

  Jogeshwari: ‘Think of the disgrace!’

  Kailash Kumari: ‘I have sacrificed myself at His feet, so why should I fear shame?’

  Jogeshwari: ‘It might not bother you but we are not immune to public criticism. You are our only support. If you become a sanyasi who will look after us?’

  Kailash Kumari: ‘God is our caretaker. It is wrong to depend on anyone else.’

  The next day the news reached the neighbours. They began offering their opinions.

  ‘This had to happen. What’s new about this? You can’t give freedom to a girl. They were elated that their girl had mastered the Vedas and the Upanishads and could argue with great scholars. It’s too late to shed tears now. If a child falls while running, we stop him, pick him up and comfort him in our lap.’

  After the fault-finders it was now the turn of the sympathizers. A few gentlemen came to discuss the issue with Hridaynath. Why had such a thing come to pass? After a few minutes one of them said, ‘One hears that the majority has approved of Dr Gourd’s reforms.’

  Second gentleman: ‘These people will destroy the Hindu dharma.’

  Third gentleman: ‘It is definitely being destroyed. What can one do? When our own sadhus and saints, the pillars of Hinduism, have yielded to their desires and have no qualms in exploiting young women, what remains to be said?’

  Hridaynath: ‘This calamity has befallen me as well. You must have heard about it.’

  First gentleman: ‘It has befallen all of us.’

  Second gentleman: ‘Say it has fallen on the whole nation.’

  Hridaynath: ‘Think of a way out.’

  First gentleman: ‘Have you not talked her out of it?’

  Hridaynath: ‘I have failed. She refuses to listen to anything.’

  Third gentleman: ‘We shouldn’t have allowed her to walk this path. That was our first mistake.’

  First gentleman: ‘It’s no use repenting now. You must have seen the newspapers. Some people are of the opinion that widows should take up teaching. Though I am not completely in its favour, at least it is better than becoming a sanyasi. The aim is to keep the girl involved in something. An idle person can go astray. An uninhabited house becomes the abode of bats.’

  Second gentleman: ‘It is a good suggestion. Five to ten girls of the neighbourhood should be gathered and the plan put into action. If the girls are given books, paper, dolls, and so on as gifts, they will come eagerly.’

  Hridaynath broached the subject with Kailash Kumari, who was heartbroken. The status of a teacher was inferior to that of a sanyasi. How could instructing a few girls compare with the company of holy men? What was a job which paid ten rupees in comparison to those mountainous regions where one came closer to God, that mystical charm of nature, the luminous purity of snow-clad peaks, the rapturous sights of Mansarovar and Kailash?

  But Hridaynath did not lose hope. He drew her attention to the greatness of social service. Real piety lies in service. An ascetic is concerned only with his own salvation. Public welfare is not tinged with selfishness. The pursuit of selfish ends, whether spiritual or physical, is a limited activity, while service for others is unbounded. Look at the status enjoyed by Dadhichi among rishis. Who has been able to achieve the greatness of Harishchandra? He would substantiate his argument with references from the Vedas and the Upanishads. This had the desired effect. Gradually Kailash Kumari’s views began to change.

  3

  The passion for social work overwhelmed Kailash Kumari. She spent the whole day with the girls—teaching them, playing with them, and instructing them in sewing and knitting. The school became her world. If a girl fell sick, she would visit her home and tend to her. She would arrange for food and clothes for poor girls and even collect funds for the ones getting married.

  The school had been running for two years now. One of the girls whom Kailash Kumari was deeply attached to contracted small pox. Kailash Kumari’s parents tried to stop her from going and seeing the girl but did not succeed. She left saying that she would return quickly.

  The girl’s condition was bad. Her tears had dried her mouth but the sight of Kailash Kumari cheered her up. She spent an hour with the girl who chatted with her continuously. When she got up to leave the girl started crying again, so Kailash Kumari was forced to sit with her. She made another attempt to leave, but once again the girl was distraught. She just refused to let Kailash Kumari go. Kailash Kumari ended up staying the whole day. The girl did not allow her to leave even when night fell. Hridaynath kept sending his men to fetc
h her but Kailash Kumari would refuse to go with them. She feared her departure could signal the girl’s end. The sick girl had a stepmother who could not be trusted. Kailash Kumari ended up spending three days at the girl’s house, and left on the fourth day when she’d recovered slightly.

  Kailash Kumari wasn’t even done changing her clothes when a man from the girl’s home came rushing to her and said, ‘Come quickly. The girl is weeping inconsolably.’

  Hridaynath said, ‘Tell them to call a nurse from the hospital.’

  Kailash Kumari: ‘Father, you are getting angry unnecessarily. I am ready to spend three months nursing the girl if she can be saved, forget three days. What is the purpose of this body otherwise?’

  Hridaynath: ‘Then who will teach the other girls?’

  Kailash Kumari: ‘She will recover in a few days. The sores have dried. You take care of the girls until then.’

  Hridaynath: ‘There is danger of you getting the disease. It is contagious.’

  Laughing, Kailash Kumari replied, ‘If I die, a burden will be off your head.’

  Saying this she headed for the house.

  Hridaynath said to Jogeshwari, ‘It appears that the school will have to be shut down soon. The path I have taken is becoming treacherous by the day. Again it seems things are heading for my humiliation. People will say that the girl remains for days together in strangers’ houses. The school will have to be closed down.’

  Jogeshwari: ‘What else can we do?’

  When Kailash Kumari returned after two days Hridaynath put forth the suggestion of closing down the school. Kailash Kumari retorted angrily, ‘If you are so bothered about disrepute and other people’s opinions, then give me some poison. That is the only way to handle the situation.’

  Hridaynath: ‘Listen to me, daughter, we live in this world and have to follow its ways.’

  Kailash Kumari: ‘Then I should know what the world wants from me. I can reason, think and feel. How can I become an animal? I can’t think of myself as an unfortunate woman who would be satisfied with the crumbs thrown at her. Whatever the world thinks of me, I will not consider myself helpless. I can look after myself. I consider it an insult that aspersions are cast on me every single time. Someone is always telling me what to do, as if I were cattle that have to be stopped from trespassing. I cannot tolerate all of this.’

  The school was closed the next day.

  4

  The day of Teej arrived. Women began preparing for the festival by cleaning their houses. Jogeshwari, too, started getting ready for the fast. New saris were ordered. On this occasion, clothes, sweets and toys would come from Kailash Kumari’s in-laws’ place. This year also they came. This was a fast meant for married women but widows observed it as well. Their relationship with their husbands was not merely physical but also spiritual. Kailash Kumari used to observe the fast, but this time she decided that she would not do it. When her mother heard this she struck her own forehead and said, ‘It’s your duty to observe this fast.’

  Kailash Kumari: ‘Do men observe any such fast for their wives?’

  Jogeshwari: ‘Men have no such obligation.’

  Kailash Kumari: ‘Isn’t it because men aren’t as concerned about their wives?’

  Jogeshwari: ‘How can a woman equate herself with a man? Her duty is to serve her husband.’

  Kailash Kumari: ‘I don’t consider it my duty. Self-improvement in my view is one’s only duty.’

  Jogeshwari: ‘Daughter, this is terrible. What will the world say?’

  Kailashi: ‘Again the same society! I have nothing to do with the world. I am not afraid of this world, which has nothing to offer me except hardships.’

  When Jogeshwari related this to Hridaynath he was speechless. What did all this mean? Was this really the urge for self-improvement or the cry of a wounded heart? Poverty leaves no scope for shame. Usually despair and grief take the form of helplessness. In self-respecting people it assumes the form of a rash arrogance which destroys softer emotions. This is the ultimate form of despair.

  ‘What should we do now?’ Jogeshwari asked.

  ‘What can I say? There’s only one way out but I can’t bear to voice it.’

  Translated from the Urdu by Shaifta Ayoub

  A Home for an Orphan

  1

  Lala Devaprakash spent a large amount of money on the celebrations when Satyaprakash was born. The ceremony for the boy’s initiation into learning was also conducted with a lot of pomp. A small cart was acquired to take him on rounds. In the evening, a servant would take him for a stroll. Another servant would bring him to school, wait there the entire day and then return home with him. What an affable and promising boy he was! Fair skin, big eyes, high forehead, thin red lips and plump legs! One spontaneously exclaimed while looking at him, ‘May God bless him! He will grow to be a great man!’ People marvelled at the strength of his body and the sharpness of his mind. A smile was always spread on his face, which was as fair as the moon. Nobody had ever seen him crying or throwing a tantrum.

  It was a day in the rainy season. Devaprakash went for a dip in the Ganga with his wife. The river was flooded like the eyes of an orphan. His wife, Nirmala, started playing in the water. She would go back and forth into the river, dive, or spray the water around with her fingers. Devaprakash said, ‘All right, now come out or you’ll catch a cold.’

  She said daringly, ‘Tell me, should I go into the water up to my chest?’

  ‘And what if you slip?’

  ‘Why will I slip?’

  Having said that, she went deeper into the water, until it was up to her chest. The husband cautioned, ‘All right, now don’t go even a step further.’ But Nirmala was flirting with Death. It was not a water game any more, now it was a Death stunt. She went one step further and slipped. A cry escaped her lips and her hands flailed in an expectation of support and then disappeared into the water. It took the thirsty river just one moment to swallow her. Devaprakash was patting himself dry with a towel. He dived into the river at once, and the palanquin bearer followed. Two boatmen also leapt in. Everyone searched but Nirmala was nowhere to be found, after which more boats were called for. But even with the additional assistance of the boatmen who dived repeatedly into the river, her body remained untraceable. Devaprakash returned home grief-stricken. Satyaprakash ran to him expecting presents. The father picked him up and, despite his best efforts, was unable to stop his sobs. Satyaprakash inquired, ‘Where’s my mother?’

  ‘Son, the Ganga has claimed your mother for a feast.’

  Satyaprakash looked at him questioningly and then, understanding the implication, started crying and calling out for his mother.

  2

  A motherless boy is the world’s most pitiable creature. Even the lowliest of beings have God’s blessings to console their hearts. A motherless boy is denied this consolation. The mother is the sole foundation of his life. Without the mother, he turns into a wingless bird.

  Satyaprakash now started loving solitude. He would sit alone for hours. In the company of trees, he got a strange feeling of empathy, which he did not receive even from his family. When the mother was there, everyone loved him; without the mother’s love, everyone turned cold. Even the father’s eyes lost the light of love. Who gives alms to the poor, anyway?

  Six months went by. Suddenly one day he came to know that he was soon going to have a new mother. He ran to his father and asked, ‘Will a new mother come for me?’

  The father replied, ‘Yes, son, she’ll love you a lot.’

  ‘Will my mother herself return from heaven?’

  ‘Yes, it will seem just like that.’

  ‘Will she love me the same as before?’

  How could Devaprakash answer that? But from that day, Satyaprakash’s heart beamed with joy. ‘My mother is coming! She will put me in her lap and love me! I will never tease her, never throw a tantrum, and will tell her nice stories!’

  As the wedding day drew near, the preparations for th
e event commenced. Satyaprakash could not contain his happiness. ‘I will have a new mother!’ He, too, accompanied the wedding party. He got new clothes and was seated on the palanquin. The new grandmother called him in and sat him in her lap and gave him a precious coin. That is when he spotted his new mother. The grandmother told her daughter, ‘Look, what a beautiful boy he is. You must love him.’

  Satyaprakash saw the new mother and was captivated. Children also admire beauty. A glamorous jewellery-laden idol was standing before him. He grabbed her hem with both hands and said, ‘Mother!’

  What an unsavoury word it was! How shameful! How disagreeable! This charming woman who was addressed as ‘Devapriya’ could not tolerate the appellation of responsibility, sacrifice and forgiveness. In the present moment, she was in an ecstatic reverie of love and enjoyment, and was feeling pleasantly agitated by the intoxicating waves of youth. The appellation broke her reverie. Somewhat angry, she remonstrated, ‘Don’t call me mother.’

  Satyaprakash looked at her with astonishment in his eyes. His infantile reverie was also broken. His eyes welled up. The grandmother said, ‘Look, the boy is disheartened. How would he know the appropriate words? How are you hurt if he called you mother?’

  Devapriya said, ‘He shouldn’t call me mother.’

  3

  Why is a stepson such an intolerable sight to a stepmother? If no psychology expert has been able to decide this, then how can we? Until Devapriya became pregnant, she would occasionally speak to Satyaprakash or tell him stories, but as soon as she was with child, her behaviour towards him turned hostile, and her hostility kept growing as the delivery drew closer. On the day she had a boy, as beautiful as the moon in her lap, Satyaprakash pranced around with joy and ran to the labour room to see the infant, who was sleeping. With great curiosity, Satyaprakash was about to pick up the infant from his stepmother’s lap, when suddenly Devapriya admonished him, ‘Beware! Don’t you dare touch him or I will pull your ears out!’