The Complete Short Stories

by Premchand

  A week later he wrote, I am going to Berar on work and will send your money on my return.

  After a fortnight I wrote him a letter inquiring how he was. I received no reply. After another fortnight I again demanded the money. I received no reply to that either. After a month I made the same request and with the same result! I sent a registered letter. There was no doubt that it had reached its destination but it too failed to elicit a reply. I realized that what my sensible wife had said was totally correct. I fell silent in despair.

  I never mentioned these letters to my wife and neither did she ever ask about this matter.

  2

  This deceitful behaviour had the same effect on me as it ordinarily and naturally should have. Only an elevated and pure soul could have remained unmoved by such duplicity. Such a person would be satisfied about having fulfilled his duty. If the debtor did not repay the debt, then that was no fault of his. But I was not so generous. Only by racking my brains for months and wearing out my pens was I repaid with the sight of the Almighty Cash.

  That same month another incident occurred. A new compositor from Bihar had joined my press. He seemed clever at his work. I took him on for fifteen rupees a month. He used to study before in some English-medium school but had given up his studies because of the Non-Cooperation Movement. His family had refused to give him any help and he had no other choice but to take up this profession for his livelihood. He was about seventeen or eighteen, and had a serious nature. He spoke very politely. Three days after he joined me he developed a fever. He managed to endure it somehow for a few days and then when his temperature didn’t go down he became alarmed and began to miss home. They would at least get him the treatment he needed if nothing else. He came to me and said, ‘Sir, I’m ill. If you could give my some money I will be able to go home. The moment I arrive I will make arrangements for the money to be sent to you.’

  He really was sick and I knew it very well. I also knew that he could never return to health here. He did indeed need help. But I suspected that he too might digest my money. When a thoughtful, capable, scholarly man could deceive me, how could I expect a half-educated young man to keep his promise?

  I stood for several minutes in a total dilemma. Finally I said, ‘I am very sad to see you in this state. But right now I can do nothing. I have no cash in hand. I’m sorry.’

  Tears began to fall from his eyes at this blunt answer. He replied, ‘If you want you can certainly arrange the money. I will send it the moment I arrive.’

  I said to myself, ‘Your intentions are good here but where’s the proof they’ll remain good once you reach home? And even if they do who knows whether you’ll be able to send the money or not. At least I won’t have any means of getting it back from you.’ Aloud I said, ‘I do not doubt you but I am sorry I do not have the money. However, you can take whatever salary you are owed.’

  He didn’t reply. As if uncertain what to do he glanced up at the sky once and left. My heart was in anguish. I felt remorse for my selfishness. But in the end I stood by my decision. I contented myself with the thought that I was not so rich that I could go throwing money into water.

  This was the result of the deception I had suffered at the hands of my poet friend.

  I don’t know what bad fruits my weakness would have borne later, as fortunately that moment never came. God decreed that I would be saved from that disgrace. After the young man left me with tears in his eyes, he met Pandit Prithvinath, a clerk in my office. Panditji asked him what the matter was. When he heard the story Panditji took out fifteen rupees and gave it to the young man. He had to borrow this money from the office bookkeeper. When I heard this a weight was lifted from my heart. Now the poor lad would reach home in comfort. And this consolation cost me absolutely nothing. At the same time I was somewhat ashamed of my low behaviour. In lengthy essays I would lecture on compassion, humanity and virtuous behaviour and when it had come to the test I had simply looked after myself! And this poor clerk who devotedly read my work turned out to be so generous and altruistic! The guru stayed as raw jaggery, his disciple turned into sugar. Anyway, in all this there was also the ironic satisfaction that even if my spiritual instruction had no effect on me, at least it had an effect on others! If there was darkness underneath the lamp what did it matter? At least the light had spread. But in case the poor clerk didn’t get his money back (and that was not very likely) he would be totally bereft. Then I would give him a good talking-to. This wish of mine, however, was not fulfilled. Five days later the money arrived. I had never had my eyes opened in such a tortuous way. The good thing was that I never mentioned this incident to my wife; or it would have been difficult for me even to remain in my house.

  3

  I wrote out the above story and dispatched it to a magazine. My aim was simply to place before the public a picture of the adverse consequences of deceitful behaviour. I had never even dreamed that it would bear immediate fruit. So when four days later I suddenly received a money order for seventy-five rupees, my joy knew no bounds. The sender was the same gentleman—Umapatiji. On the coupon was written just ‘Apologies’. I took the money and put it in my wife’s hands and showed her the coupon.

  She said indifferently, ‘Take it and put it in your own box. I never realized until today what a greedy man you were. It’s not decent behaviour to chase after people for small amounts of money. When an educated and polite man is unable to fulfil his promise then you should realize that he must be under some compulsion. It is not good manners to embarrass such a helpless man with repeated demands. As far as it’s in his power no human being who is not totally morally corrupt cheats anyone. I will not keep this money with me until we receive a letter from Umapatiji explaining why he took so long to send it.’

  But at this point I was not ready to listen to such noble thoughts. I had the money I’d lost and I was overjoyed.

  Translated from the Hindi by Gillian Wright

  The Ornaments

  1

  I have nothing against women’s craving for jewellery. We can still bear it if the ladies are somewhat obdurate, but we cannot deal with their lethal, sarcastic remarks. But I must say that sacrifices made for the fulfilment of this craving may be utilized to achieve something far better in life.

  Though we haven’t yet seen any ordinary-looking lady appear beautiful only because of her jewellery, we accept the fact that jewellery is needed to enhance beauty, just as a house needs a lamp to illumine it. But we never ponder on how we lose our peace of mind and pollute our soul in the pursuit of enhancing our physical beauty. Its dazzle blurs our vision. We shudder to think of the depth of envy, jealousy and anxiety that the glitter of jewellery might cause. In fact, it is not an aid to beautification but pollution. If that is not the case, how is it that a newly-wedded girl, having barely spent three days with her husband, can tell him, ‘My father has pushed me into a dungeon by making me tie the knot with you!’

  That day Sheetala had gone to see the bride of Kunwar Suresh Singh, the landlord of the village. She was bewitched by what she saw. She barely looked at the bride because she could not take her eyes off the girl’s shining jewellery. Sheetala was very annoyed. Her foul mood found a vent on her husband when he returned in the evening.

  Her husband’s name was Vimal Singh. His ancestors were landowners and very affluent. This village also belonged to them. But down the years their wealth and position had withered away. Suresh’s father was adept at land dealings and had somehow got hold of Vimal’s property. Vimal had almost become a pauper now, finding it difficult to afford two square meals a day or a pony to ride on. On the other side, Suresh had several elephants, cars and horses. Visitors could be seen standing at the main door of his house at any time of the day. Yet these odds could not create a gulf between the two men. They maintained their relations cordially, attending marriages and participating in all the rituals in each other’s families. Suresh had special interest in education. After he finished his studies in India he�
��d left for Europe to pursue higher education. People had assumed that he’d return as a Brown Sahib, but contrary to their expectations he turned into a staunch believer in the sanctity of Indian tradition. The materialism, licentiousness and inordinate arrogance that he’d encountered in Europe opened his eyes. Earlier, his family had put a lot of pressure on him to get married but he’d declined. He wouldn’t marry a girl that he didn’t know well. But now there was a sea change in his attitude. He married the same girl he had rejected earlier. He did not try to get to know her at all. Marriage for him was now a spiritual bond and not one of love. Sheetala had gone to see the same girl—Suresh’s wife—with her mother-in-law. And the glitter of the bride’s jewels had taken the wind out of her wings. Vimal was deeply disappointed by Sheetala’s behaviour. He said to her sadly that she should have asked her parents to marry her to Suresh, who would have laden her with jewels.

  ‘Why are you being so abusive?’ Sheetala asked

  ‘I’m not. Your parents shouldn’t have married a beauty like you to me.’

  ‘You’ve no shame. You only know how to taunt.’

  ‘Destiny is not in my hands. Nor am I educated enough to get a lucrative job.’

  ‘You do not love me. Why don’t you admit that? If you had loved me you would’ve found a way to earn more.’

  ‘You love ornaments?’

  ‘Everybody does. I also do.’

  ‘You consider yourself unfortunate.’

  ‘What’s there to consider? I am unfortunate. Otherwise I wouldn’t have to look at what others possess and crave for them.’

  ‘Will you consider yourself fortunate if I get them made for you?’

  ‘Oh! Is there a goldsmith waiting for your command at the door?’

  ‘No, I’ll have them made for you. But you have to be patient.’

  2

  Once challenged there are some capable people who can go to the extent of taking lives to achieve their objective. But a weakling risks his own life to fulfil a promise. Vimal decided to leave the house. He was determined to either cover Sheetala in ornaments or make her a widow. She would either wear jewellery or yearn for vermilion.

  He was sunk deep in sadness the entire day. He wanted to make Sheetala happy with his love. But now he realized that women did not look for love but only for material pleasures. Late in the night he left his home and didn’t turn back even once. There is a hint of attachment left in wilful renunciation, but detachment born out of disappointment remains firm. The sight of material things in light can create distractions but in darkness nobody deters from the straight path by even an inch.

  Vimal was not educated, nor did he have any special skill. But he was hard-working and his strong sense of self-sacrifice gave him strength. He went to Calcutta first. He worked for a rich man there for some time. There he heard from someone that in Rangoon the wages were much better. So he left for Rangoon immediately. He started working in the port as a loader.

  Hard work, irregular food habits and bad climate took a toll on his health and he fell sick. His body became weak and the glow on his face was gone. But still he remained the most hard-working man in that port. There were other labourers as well but this man was a workaholic. Once he decided on something he pursued it with single-minded devotion.

  He did not send word home regarding his whereabouts. He convinced himself that nobody cared for him at home. His wife cared only for jewels. What he could not grasp was that love could cohere with the yearning for material pleasures. The other labourers used to eat their fill in the morning. They smoked tobacco and narcotics right through the day. If they were free they roamed around the bazaars. Many were addicted to alcohol. If they earned more in Rangoon they spent more too. As a result, sometimes they did not even have proper clothes to wear. But Vimal was among the rare few who lived a life of austerity and moderation. The aim of his life was to earn and save. Within a short time Vimal made a small fortune. With money he began to wield his influence on the other labourers. Almost everybody knew that Vimal was a thakur by caste. And everybody addressed him as Thakur. Restraint and good behaviour are keys to respectability. Vimal became the leader of the labourers and a moneylender.

  Vimal had spent three years working in Rangoon now. It was evening and he was sitting and chatting with some of his fellow men near the seaside.

  One of them said, ‘Here the women are hard-hearted. Poor Jhingur was living with that Burmese woman for the past ten years. Few would have loved even their legally wedded wives as much as he did this woman. He trusted her so much that whatever he earned he handed it over to her. They had three sons. Till yesterday they had their dinner together and went to sleep. No clash or fight. And she left in the night, just like that. She left the boys behind. Poor Jhingur is inconsolable. He does not know what to do with the small kid. The unfortunate child is only six months old. Only God knows how he will survive.’

  Vimal asked gravely, ‘Did he buy jewellery for her?’

  Labourer: ‘She kept all the money. Who could have stopped her if she wanted to get them made?’

  Second labourer: ‘She was loaded with ornaments. When she walked, a jingling sound filled the air.’

  Vimal: ‘If she betrayed him despite that it means that all women are treacherous.’

  Suddenly, a man arrived and told Vimal, ‘Chaudhary, I met a soldier just now. He wanted to know your name, your father’s name and your village. There is one Babu Suresh Singh who is looking for you.’

  Vimal said apprehensively, ‘Yes, there is a person by that name. He is a landlord in my village and a distant cousin.’

  Man: ‘He got a notice pasted in the police station declaring an award of one thousand rupees to the person who gives any information about you.’

  Vimal: ‘So you told the soldier everything?’

  Man: ‘Chaudhary, am I such a fool? I sensed that something was amiss; nobody will spare so much money for nothing. I told him that your name was Jasoda Pande and not Vimal Singh. Your father’s name is Sukhu and that your hometown is in Jhansi district. Then he asked how long you have been living here. I told him ten years. He pondered for some time and then left. Does Suresh Babu have anything against you, Chaudhary?’

  Vimal: ‘Not anything that I know of. But who knows what might be going on in his mind. He might usurp my land in the village by levelling some false charges against me. You did the right thing by misleading the soldier.’

  Man: ‘He said that if I gave him correct information he would get fifty rupees for me too. I thought he’d get a thousand rupees and was trying to get away with giving me only fifty rupees. I shrugged away his proposal.’

  One labourer: ‘If he had offered you two hundred rupees then you’d have told him everything. Wouldn’t you? Shame on you, greedy fellow!’

  Man: (ashamed.) ‘What would I have said for two hundred? Even if he had given me two thousand I wouldn’t have given him any information. Do not consider me a traitor. You can test my loyalty whenever you want.’

  The labourers kept on arguing with each other while Vimal went to his room and lay down. His wondered, What should I do now? If a gentleman like Suresh can change whom can I trust in this world? No, I have to go home now. If I delay any more I’ll be ruined. If I had stayed for two more years I could have earned five thousand rupees in total. I could have satisfied Sheetala’s desire to some extent. But right now I have only three thousand rupees with me. This is not enough for her. Anyway, I can go now but I’ll be back in six months. That way my property will be saved. No, I won’t stay for six months there. Travelling both ways will take one month’s time. Fifteen days at home will be enough. Who cares for me there? Nobody cares if I live or die. They care only for ornaments.

  With this plan in mind he left Rangoon the following day.

  3

  The world is of the view that physical beauty is of less consequence than mental qualities. Our moral philosophers feel the same way. But reality is quite different. Suresh’s wife, Manga
la Kumari, was skilled at household work. She was an obedient, extremely sensitive and thoughtful, soft-spoken and God-fearing woman. But as she lacked beauty, she was an eyesore to her husband. Suresh got annoyed with her about petty things but the next moment he would regret his behaviour and ask for her forgiveness. This happened every day. The trouble was that he was not corrupt like other affluent people. He wanted to fulfil all his physical and spiritual needs within the bounds of family life, which would afford him joy, peace and tranquillity. Deprived of conjugal happiness his entire life appeared to him to be dull, shrunken and joyless.

  The consequence was that Mangala lost her self-confidence. If she ever tried to do anything of her own accord, a constant fear plagued her lest her husband got angry with her. In order to make him happy she told lies and gave excuses to cover up her mistakes. She blamed the servants to save herself from her husband’s wrath. She ignored her own self-respect and conscience just to keep him in good humour. But that did not help at all. Instead of rising in her husband’s esteem she fell in his eyes day by day. She tried new ways of decking up but it only took her further away from him. She yearned for her husband’s affection. She longed for his smile and a sweet word from his lips. Women lacking beauty are not satisfied with a little love; they want the complete, undivided love of their husbands—sometimes even more than pretty women, as they work harder to attain that. Mangala became more frustrated as all her efforts yielded nothing.

  Gradually, her love for her husband started waning. She reasoned that such a heartless, cruel and thoughtless man did not deserve her affection. Tit for tat—that should be the name of the game. A man who only cared for outward beauty did not deserve her undivided love and affection. Such a reaction though only worsened the situation.

  Mangala didn’t have to just deal with her own lack of beauty. Sheetala’s beauty dampened her spirits even more. Though Mangala was not beautiful, she loved her husband with all her heart. We cannot ignore those who love us. Love has infinite power. But Suresh was stricken by Sheetala’s charm. His heart, occupied by Sheetala, had no space for Mangala. He tried very hard to eject Sheetala from his heart but to no avail. The impact of beauty is as inevitable as that of wealth. Suresh had had a glimpse of Sheetala’s beauty on the day she had come to see Mangala. But that one glance had conquered his heart. He was totally vanquished.