The Complete Short Stories

by Premchand

  Suresh sat in a corner and compared both women to find out the difference between the two. Why did one woman attract him so much while the other repelled him? This attraction was devoid of all lustful thoughts. In fact it was like poet or a painter appreciating beauty. It was just a means of satisfaction for him. He reasoned with his heart and resolved to try and make Mangala happy. It was not her fault that she was not beautiful. But the moment she came before him his resolve vanished into thin air. He noticed closely the shifting expressions on her face indicating what went through her heart, but like a paralysed person, he was incapable of doing anything. He didn’t dare reflect on the consequences. And when Mangala also started being rude to him, he lost all interest in her. He stopped visiting her altogether.

  It was very hot one evening. Even hand fans were of no help. Nobody went for walks in the orchards. The heat sapped all energy and the people became lifeless, like corpses. The extreme weather made everyone irritable. They lost their temper at the drop of a hat and flared up like a bonfire. Suresh was restless. He was scolding the servants for not sprinkling water frequently when suddenly he heard the sound of music emanating from the house. He was startled; then he felt a seething anger. Even the sweet music annoyed him. Was this the time to sing? The heat was making life miserable and here people were busy enjoying music. Mangala must have called them. Who said that love was the basis of women’s lives? They were simply fond of good food, sleep, entertainment, as other ordinary human beings. Now it had been an hour or so. God knows when it would stop. Those women were straining their throats for no reason.

  At last he couldn’t hold himself any more. He went to the women’s part of the house and said, ‘What’s this raucous noise you people are making? Is this the time for recreation? It has become difficult to sit outside with all this uproar.’

  Everybody fell silent. It was like a noisy classroom falling silent on the arrival of the teacher. Everybody bowed their heads low and slunk away.

  Mangala got up and went to the front room. She called her husband inside and asked in a low voice, ‘Why’re you so angry?’

  ‘I do not want to hear music at this hour.’

  ‘Nobody is singing for you. Do you want to control my hearing faculties?’

  ‘Stop this nonsense.’

  ‘It’s none of your business.’

  ‘I won’t allow this racket in my house.’

  ‘So where is my home then?’

  Suresh ignored this question and instead said, ‘Tell these women to come some other time.’

  ‘Why, just because you do not like these women being here?’

  ‘Yes, that’s why.’

  ‘Do you always do things that I approve of? Your friends come here frequently. Their loud laughter disturbs me and everybody inside the house. But I never protest. I never said that they shouldn’t come here. Why do you interfere with whatever I do then?’

  Suresh raised his voice and said, ‘Because I’m the owner of this house.’

  ‘You rule outside. This is my territory.’

  ‘Why are you spouting nonsense? What will you gain by annoying me this way?’

  Mangala stood silent for a while. She was trying to analyse the thoughts of her husband. Then she spoke up. ‘As you wish. If I don’t have any right over this house then I won’t stay here. Till now I was under an illusion. But today you cleared the illusion. I never had any right over this house. A woman who does not have any place in the heart of her husband has no right over his property.’

  Suresh was embarrassed. ‘Why are you making a mountain out of a molehill? I did not mean that. You’ve misunderstood me.’

  ‘One’s real thoughts come out unhindered like this. When we are alert, we hide our real emotions and feelings.’

  Suresh was now ashamed of his rudeness. But he was afraid that the more he tried to pacify her, the more abusive she’d become. So he left her in that state and went out.

  It was early morning and a cool breeze was blowing. Suresh was in a trance and dreaming that Mangala was walking past him. He woke up with a start to see that Mangala was actually standing at the threshold. The maids were wiping their tears. Several servants were standing around. Everybody was grief-stricken and teary-eyed. It was as though a bride was leaving her home forever.

  Suresh understood that Mangala had taken the previous day’s incident to heart. But he did not try to stop her, or make up with her or even make her understand his viewpoint. She is humiliating me. She can go wherever she wants. I do not have anything to do with her. She is going of her own accord. That implies I mean nothing to her. Then who am I to stop her?

  He just stood there and Mangala went away. She did not even give him one last look.

  4

  Mangala kept walking. It was not a small thing for the wife of a landlord. Nobody could gather the courage to speak to her. The menfolk moved out of her way while the womenfolk stood at their doors and watched her with pitiful, curious eyes. They were thinking, ‘What a cruel fellow! He could’ve at least got a palanquin for her!’

  She crossed her village and reached Sheetala’s village. When Sheetala saw her, she invited Mangala into her house.

  Mangala went inside. The house was in a dilapidated condition. An elderly lady was lying on a cot in the portico. Poverty was writ large everywhere.

  Sheetala asked, ‘What’s happened to you?’

  Mangala answered, ‘That which was in my fate.’

  ‘Did Kunwerji say or do something?’

  ‘It’s not necessary that everything be expressed in words. One’s real feelings come out in gestures.’

  ‘Oh God, has it come to this now?’

  When one reaches the end of one’s tether all inhibitions are lost. Mangala said, ‘If I wanted, I could’ve continued to stay there. I would’ve spent my entire life there. But I cannot stay any more at a place where there is no love, respect or honour for me.’

  ‘Where’s your parents’ house?’

  ‘How can I go there?’

  ‘Then where will you go?’

  ‘I will take refuge in God. I will ask Him why he didn’t make me beautiful. Why did he make me ugly? Sister, being born ugly is the worst curse for a woman. It is probably she-monsters who are reborn as ugly women. Beauty fetches love and love is the rarest commodity in life.’

  Mangala stood up to leave and Sheetala didn’t stop her. She thought, What would I offer her to eat? There’s nothing in the house.

  Sheetala went into deep thought after Mangala left. How unfortunate was she herself? I spurned the love of my husband, and this woman is renouncing the world because her husband doesn’t love her. Did she have any dearth of jewellery? Could these jewels keep her happy? She spurned them. And I lost everything because of my obsession with them. Only God knows where he is, and in what condition!

  She often cursed her greed. And after seeing Mangala’s condition, she started hating jewellery.

  It was two years since Vimal had left his home. Sheetala began to have all kinds of misgivings regarding him. She began to suffer from a sense of guilt and remorse.

  The petty landlords in the rural areas used their influence to get their work done. Vimal’s lands were usually given on lease for farming. After he left there was nobody to look after his lands. No farmer tilled his land. Nobody touched his land even on a shared crop basis. They thought that if Vimal appeared suddenly he might refuse to give anything to the share cropper. The tenants did not pay rent. Sheetala borrowed money from the village moneylender to run the house. She faced the same situation in the second year, too, but this time the moneylender refused to lend her money. Sheetala had to sell her ornaments. By the end of the second year all the family assets were disposed of. Starvation stared them in the face. There were four members in the family—Sheetala’s elderly mother-in-law, her younger brother-in-law, her sister-in-law and Sheetala herself. The relatives also visited off and on. To make matters worse, Sheetala’s parents got embroiled in a court case.
Her father and elder brother had been framed. Sheetala’s two younger brothers, sister and mother came to stay with her. It was difficult to run the house earlier, but now it was totally ruined.

  The squabbles between the two families began from early morning. The samdhans and the brothers-in-law fought with each other. Sometimes there was no food in the house. And many a time because of the fighting nobody ate. The boys would steal sugar cane and green peas from the fields. The mother-in-law would go to the neighbours’ houses and abuse Sheetala and her family for taking over the house in the absence of her son. In this battle the victory generally went to the daughter-in-law’s side. On a few rare occasions they managed to get some foodgrain, but there was nobody to grind it. Sheetala’s mother said that she was a guest and it was not proper that a guest be made to work. To which her mother-in-law would retort that the guests were ever ready to eat but they never wanted to work. Poor Sheetala had to do all the work alone. During mealtimes there was always an uproar, which irritated the neighbours. Sheetala pleaded with her mother and mother-in-law to stop fighting. But both dismissed her out of hand. Her mother said, ‘You’ve insulted us after calling us in your house.’ And her mother-in-law would say in return, ‘You’ve brought this woman in my house to humiliate me and now you’re spinning yarns.’ This situation made Sheetala forget her own plight. All her misgivings about her husband were forgotten. The only anxiety that preoccupied her at the moment was how to overcome the problem she was faced with. Both the elderly women—her mother and her mother-in-law—were on the verge of death, but the angel of death didn’t seem to be in a hurry to welcome them. She thought and thought but couldn’t find a way out. There was no hope of help from any quarter.

  One day she was standing at the door looking very sad and depressed. The doorstep becomes one’s favourite spot when one is eagerly waiting for someone or is in trouble. Suddenly, she saw Suresh riding a horse. His eyes turned towards her. Then their eyes met, and she stepped back and closed the doors. Suresh rode past. Sheetala was embarrassed about Suresh having seen her in a torn sari. She wondered what he must think of her.

  Suresh had found out about the plight of Vimal’s family from the villagers, and he secretly wanted to help them. But the moment he saw Sheetala, he became so self-conscious that he couldn’t even stop there for a second. It was three months now since Mangala had left his house. He hadn’t gone out anywhere in those three months out of shame. This was the first time he had stepped out.

  Sheetala had always been lurking in Suresh’s thoughts—there was no doubt about that. But after Mangala’s departure that desire had turned into lust. Is there no way I can possess this beauty? There had been no trace of Vimal for ages. It was quite possible that he was no longer alive. But Suresh tried to control his reckless thoughts with reason. It is because of this that he hesitated over offering help to Sheetala despite knowing her plight. Who knows when lust might raise its head and mount an assault on his reason and conscience? Eventually, desire won and he went to Sheetala’s house to inquire about the well-being of her family. He reasoned in his heart, ‘It’ll be sheer injustice if I do not help the helpless woman when she’s in such dire straits.’ But when he returned from there, he found that he had already bidden goodbye to his judgement and conscience, overcome as he was by his lust and infatuation. What a pretty picture she made! What incomparable beauty!

  He lost his wits and began to mutter to himself. My body and soul belong to you only. Let the world laugh. If it is a great sin, let it be. I care a damn. I can’t deprive myself of this heavenly pleasure. She can’t run away from me. I will pull my heart out and present it at her feet. Vimal is dead. If not, then he’ll die now. What’s wrong in that? Oh, how beautiful, soft, sublime she is! Oh, her lips . . .

  Suddenly he checked himself as if he had remembered something long forgotten. In every human being there is a hidden sense, apart from the conscious senses. This sense warned Suresh. Just as a vanquished, retreating army finds help from an unknown source, in the same way this sense warned Suresh and he controlled himself. He was deeply ashamed and his eyes filled with tears. For several minutes he stood where he was, silent like a condemned prisoner. Then he said triumphantly, ‘It’s very easy. I’ll kill this giant perversion in a simple way. I’ll accept Sheetala as my sister. Then all these lustful thoughts will vanish on their own. Sheetala! Sister! I’m your brother!’

  He sat down right that moment to write a letter to Sheetala. ‘Sister, you’re in so much pain, yet you didn’t think of informing me. I’m not a stranger to you! I’m very disappointed. Anyway, God willing, you won’t face any more trouble now.’ He sent both foodgrain and money with the letter.

  Sheetala answered, ‘Brother, please forgive me. I’ll sing your glory till my last breath. You’ve taken my sinking boat ashore.’

  5

  Many months passed. It was evening time. Sheetala was feeding her mynah, which Suresh had brought for her from Nepal. Suresh came and sat in the courtyard with her.

  Sheetala asked, ‘Where are you coming from?’

  ‘I went to the police station. But I haven’t got any clue yet. We’d got some news from Rangoon. But he turned out to be somebody else. What should I do? Should I increase the prize money?’

  ‘You’ve lots of money, you can blow it if you like. He’ll come if and when he wants to.’

  ‘Can I ask you something? What happened between you two? Why did he leave?’

  ‘It’s nothing. I had just asked him to get some ornaments made for me. He said, “Do I have the money?” And I said, “Then why did you marry me?” He took that to heart.’

  Suddenly, Sheetala’s mother-in-law entered. Suresh had sent Sheetala’s mother and brothers back home, so there was peace in the house. The mother-in-law had heard Sheetala talking about her son. She said heatedly, ‘There’s nothing to hide from you. She looks like a rose but her nature contains only thorns. She’s only worried about her looks and never cared for Vimal. He loved her to bits but she never even talked to him properly. There’s no trace of love in her heart for him. So he had to leave the country.’

  Sheetala was peeved. ‘Is he the only man who has left the country to earn money? It’s a man’s job to travel abroad for livelihood. ‘In Europe, couples stay together only for material benefits. If sister had been born in Europe she would have been laden with jewels and diamonds. Sheetala, from now on you should pray to God to be born in Europe in your next life if He endows you with beauty.’

  Sheetala said in a grief-stricken voice, ‘The women who are fortunate enough are laden with gold even here. Not everyone is as unfortunate as I am.’

  Suresh felt the glow on Sheetala’s face became dim. Even in the absence of her husband she was hankering after ornaments. He said, ‘Fine, I will get some made for you.’

  He meant to insult her, but Sheetala was overcome with happiness. Tears sprang to her eyes and her voice choked. She could visualize Mangala’s heavy ornaments in her heart. She looked at Suresh, her eyes brimming with gratitude. She did not utter a word but it was as though every part of her body was saying ‘I’m yours!’

  6

  Sheetala’s happiness knew no bounds when she wore Mangala’s ornaments. She was more joyful than a cuckoo perched on the branch of a mango tree, a fish swimming in cool and calm waters and a deer prancing about in an open green forest. She was totally swept off her feet. She stood in front of the mirror, adoring herself. She combed her hair and put kohl in her eyes. The fog dispelled and clear moonlight bathed the earth. She stopped doing housework altogether. She was filled with an absurd sense of vanity.

  Adornment ignites the dormant desire for sensual pleasure. When Sheetala decked herself up from hair to toe, she longed for a lover who would appreciate her beauty. She stood at the threshold of her house. The village women showered praises on her but that was not enough for Sheetala. And she’d never thought very highly of the men of the village. So she called Suresh. Earlier, he would come every day,
but now he rarely visited despite Sheetala’s earnest entreaties.

  It was late in the night. There was darkness all around. People had retired, but Sheetala was awake. She had got jasmine flowers from Suresh’s garden and was making a garland—not for herself but for Suresh. Love was the only way she could pay Suresh back.

  Suddenly, she heard dogs barking outside, and the next moment Vimal entered the house. He had a suitcase in one hand and a knapsack in another. His body looked frail, his clothes were dirty and there was several days’ stubble on his chin. He was so pale-faced that he looked like a convict out of prison. He saw the light in Sheetala’s room and walked towards it. The mynah fluttered in its cage. Sheetala was astonished to see a stranger before her. With anxiety in her voice she was just about to ask who he was when she recognized him. She quickly hid the flowers under a piece of cloth. She stood up, then lowered her head and asked, ‘Now you’ve remembered us?’

  Vimal did not answer her. He was shocked to see both Sheetala and the condition of the house. It was as if he had reached a different world altogether. She was not the half-blossomed bud that had shrivelled in misfortune. She was a fully blossomed flower—well watered and dancing with the wind blowing under her. Vimal had been enchanted by her beauty earlier, but this was a burning flame that set your heart on fire and hurt your eyes. These ornaments, the clothes, the embellishments! Feeling dizzy, he sat on the floor. He was embarrassed about being in the presence of this beautiful sunflower. Sheetala stood transfixed. She did not run to get water for her husband, she did not wash his feet nor did she fan him. It was as if she had lost her senses. All her castles in the air came tumbling down. She felt extreme repulsion for this dirty, half-clad man. He was not Vimal, the lord of the house. He had become a labourer. Rough and hard work affects the body and the whole personality, even the face. A labourer cannot hide himself behind good clothes.