The Complete Short Stories

by Premchand

  One day, she was just about to light the lamp when Panditji arrived. He took out a small packet of paper from his pocket and placed it before her and said, ‘Here, I am now free of the debt you incurred.’

  On opening the packet Maya found a gold necklace. Her heart thumped at the sight of its beauty and glitter. A glow of happiness lit her face. Looking at Panditji from the corner of her eye, she asked, ‘Does giving this to me make you happy or angry?’

  ‘How does it matter? The debt has to be repaid, happily or unhappily.’

  ‘This is no debt.’

  ‘Then what else! A repayment?’

  ‘Not even a repayment; it’s a token of your love.’

  ‘What? So will I have to make another necklace to repay the debt?’

  ‘No, ji! That necklace wasn’t stolen. That was a false alarm I created—a drama.’

  ‘Really!’

  ‘Yes, I’m speaking the truth.’

  ‘Swear on me.’

  ‘I touch your feet and take oath that it is.’

  ‘So you tricked me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Never mind, your desire has been fulfilled. But, for God’s sake, do not play such a trick on me again.’

  Translated from the Urdu by Shaheen Saba with Mini Krishnan

  Satyagraha

  1

  His Excellency the viceroy was coming to Benares. Government servants, from the lowest- to the highest-ranked, were busy preparing for his welcome. At the same time, the Congress had issued a notice for a general strike. This created a flutter among the government employees. On the one hand the streets were being cleaned, shamianas erected, flags put up, and on the other, sentries from the military and the police, armoured to their bayonets, were parading up and down the streets and the lanes. The government servants were desperate for the strike to not happen, but the Congressists were equally desperate for it. They proclaimed that if those in the government had muscle power, they had moral force; and so it would be put to the test this time as to who held the field.

  The magistrate, seated on his horse, would be at the shopkeepers’ from morning to evening, swearing that he would send each and every one of them to the gaols, that he would plunder their bazaar, and so on and so forth. The shopkeepers would mutter meekly, ‘O huzoor, our lord and master, O divine legislator, do as your lordship pleases. But what shall we do? These Congresswalas will never let us live in peace. They will sit in dharna in front of our shops, grow odiously long beards1, jump into our wells, and go on a hunger strike. Who knows, if a couple of them take their own lives, then our names would be sullied forever. If you, huzoor, make these Congressists understand, you would bestow upon us your utmost munificence. Tell us, sire, what can we stand to gain by going on strike? Here we would have such big and important dignitaries coming, and, with our shops remaining open, we would be selling our wares at double the price, we would be making such profitable transactions . . . but what to do, against these rapscallions we are completely undone.’

  Rai Sir Harnandan, Raja Lalchand and Khanbahadur2 Maulvi Mahmudali were all the more ill at ease. Along with the magistrate, and even on their own, they threw in all their efforts. They would invite shopkeepers to their houses and propitiate, appease, or glare angrily at them; give a dressing-down to the horse-carriage and buggy drivers; placate the labourers; but the iron-hold of a handful of Congressists was such that no one listened to them. Even the greengrocer lady in the neighbourhood spoke out with nary a sign of fear, ‘Huzoor, even if you kill me I won’t open the shop and allow my nose to be cut off.’ The biggest fear was what if the labourers, carpenters and blacksmiths employed to erect the pandals abandoned work, surely it would be a catastrophe then.

  Rai Sahib said, ‘Huzoor, bring shopkeepers from another town and organize a separate bazaar.’ The khanbahadur opined, ‘There’s so little time that setting up a new bazaar will be impossible. Huzoor, have all the Congressists arrested, or their property sealed; then see how tamely they behave!’ The raja observed, ‘Lock-ups and arrests will only make them all the more belligerent. Rather, announce to the Congress, huzoor, that if you don’t go on a strike, all will be provided with a government service. Most of them are jobless; the lure of it would puff them up.’

  But the magistrate found none of these proposals up to the mark. Now there were only three days to go for the viceroy’s visit.

  2

  Then the raja hit upon a plan. Why don’t we play the morality card? After all, it is moral conduct and righteousness3 that the Congressists make such a lot of fuss about. We employ the same scheme, and make the lion bite the dust in its own den. We need to produce a person who will announce, ‘I’ll embark on a fast unto death and give up my life if the shops don’t remain open.’ The requisite is that this person should be a Brahmin, whom the townsfolk revere and hold in great esteem.

  The formula resonated with the raja’s fellow conspirers immediately, and they leapt up in joy. Rai Sahib said, ‘Yes, now we’ll break the siege. But tell me, who’ll be our man? Pandit Gadadhar Sharma?’

  Raja: ‘Oh no, sir, who listens to him? He just keeps writing something in the newspapers. What would the townsfolk know about it?’

  Rai Sahib: ‘The wealthy Savant is our man then.’

  Raja: ‘Oh no, sir, who, except for the college students, is aware of this chap?’

  Rai Sahib: ‘The fatso Pandit Moteram4 Shastri?’

  Raja: ‘That’s it! What a brainwave you’ve had! He’s just the person to be called for such a situation. He’s learned, lives by his religion and rituals, and is wily too. If we get him on our side we’ll win the gamble.’

  Rai Sahib sent word to the pandit’s place immediately. Shastriji was at his puja then. He wound it up hurriedly as soon as he got the summons. What a fortune! His Majesty the raja has sent for me. He said to his wife, ‘The moon seems to be shining on me today. Hurry up and get my garments, let me go find out the reason for this call.’ The wife said, ‘The food’s ready, have it; who knows when you’ll be free to return.’

  But Shastriji didn’t feel it proper to keep the messenger-man waiting. The days were wintry. He put on a green woollen doublet which had red chords on it, and wrapped a gold brocade stole around his neck. Then he wound a Benarasi turban around his head, tied a wide, red-bordered silk dhoti and slipped into his wooden sandals and started on his way. He had a divinely radiant sheen about his face. It was discernible from afar that a mahatma was on his way. Whoever met him bowed in reverence; many shopkeepers got up on their feet with a deferential greeting. They thought—who else but such a soul did Benares retain its prestige in these times? How polite his manners were. He has such a nice smile when he speaks to children. Trailing such reputations Panditji reached the raja’s house where the three friends stood up in salutation. The khanbahadur said, ‘We hope, Panditji, your mood is pleasant. God be praised, you seem to me the perfect human specimen to be put up in an exhibition. Your Heaviness must be weighing not less than ten maund?’

  Rai Sahib: ‘For one maund of learning you need ten maund of the grey matter. By the same logic, for one maund of the grey cells a ten maund body is necessary, or else how would the weight above be carried?’

  Raja: ‘You, my friends, don’t get the point. Intelligence is like an inflammation; when it can’t be contained in the brain it spills down to the body.’

  Khanbahadur: ‘But I have heard the elders say that the corpulent are enemies of wit.’

  Rai Sahib: ‘Khan, your mathematics is weak, it seems, or else you would’ve understood this much at least, that when the ratio between the brain and the body is 1:10, then the fatter a person is, the weightier his brain would be.’

  Raja: ‘Which proves the theorem that the fatter a man is, the fatter his brain would be.’

  Shastriji: ‘If my fat brain is the talk of the king’s court, would I need a slimmer one!’

  After these light moments, the raja presented the problem to the pandit and elaborated upon
the plan thought out to counter it. He said, ‘So then, Panditji, suffice it to say that your future this year is completely in our hands. Perhaps no one gets presented with an opportunity to set right one’s fate as you have today. If the strike is called off, if nothing else then this much is guaranteed that you won’t have to stand at any gate asking for donations and remuneration for your Brahminical chores all your life. Just think of a penance that would send shivers down the spine of the townsfolk. Those in the Congress have reached this position of strength taking the route of dharma. Chalk out such a ploy that would hit back at their same morals.’

  Shastriji replied gravely, ‘This would not be such a difficult task. I possess the power to perform such a variety of solemn rituals that would make the sky rain, render powerless the seize of epidemics, decrease or increase the price of grains. Quelling these Congressists would hardly be a big thing. These English-educated so-called prominent people think nobody else can do the things they can. But they have no knowledge of the secret arts.’

  Khanbahadur: ‘One has to say then, most gracious sir, that you are a second God. How could we know that the powers of nature lie encompassed within you? Or else, why would we have remained disconcerted for so many days?’

  Shastriji: ‘Sirs, I can trace hidden wealth. I can summon ancestral souls. But it all depends on how qualified my hosts are. There is no dearth as such of invaluable people on earth, only invaluable patrons are scarce. Pricelessness hasn’t disappeared, priceless patrons have.’

  Raja: ‘Well, what can we offer you for this ceremonial observance of yours?’

  Shastriji: ‘With a holy heart whatever you deem fit.’

  Raja: ‘Can you give us an idea about what sort of a ceremony you have in mind?’

  Shastriji: ‘Chanting of mantras with a fast. If I don’t shake this town up then Moteram is not my name.’

  Raja: ‘So then, when do you begin?’

  Shastriji: ‘I can begin from today itself. But first, please arrange for some money for the invocation of the gods.’

  There was no paucity of funds. The money was given to Panditji, and he returned home thoroughly happy and narrated the whole incident to his wife. Anxiously, she said, ‘You have taken up this ill-begotten matter on yourself unnecessarily. What if you can’t withstand the hunger pangs? You will become a joke for the whole town to guffaw over! Go and return the money.’

  Shastriji assured her, ‘How won’t I be able to resist hunger? Am I such a fool that I’d go right now and sit there on fast? First arrange a meal for me; get all the sweets you can—rasgullas, laddus and imartis. Let me tuck in properly. Then I’ll have half a ser of cream topped up with half a ser of dry fruits. And if a corner of my stomach still remains empty I’ll stuff it with yogurt. How would hunger flirt with me then? I wouldn’t even be able to breathe for three days, let alone think of eating. And by then there would be a brouhaha in the whole town. Fate is on the ascendance now, any dilly-dally would only bring repentance later. If the bazaar remains open, know for sure that I’ll be loaded with money. If not, what do I stand to lose from my pocket! I’ve already got a hundred rupees, haven’t I?’

  So while preparations were made for Shastriji’s meal he tom-tommed the message that he would lecture on the political problem the country faced that evening at the Town Hall ground, asking people to attend without fail. The pandit was known to keep himself away from politics. And today he was going to speak on it; this had to be attended, people thought with increasing curiosity. At the appointed hour a few thousand of them gathered on the ground. Panditji started from his home well prepared. His tummy was so full that he was finding it difficult to walk. People prostrated respectfully as soon as he arrived.

  Shastriji spoke, ‘People of the town, businessmen, distinguished merchants and moneylenders! I have come to know that having fallen under the spell of these Congressists you all have decided to go on strike on the day of His Excellency’s welcome arrival. What absolute ungratefulness is this? If he so wishes, he could have you all tied to the mouths of the canons today; he could raze this town to dust. It’s not a matter of fun and play; he is the king. Thank your stars that he is taking pity on your condition. You are behaving like a herd of cattle out to graze the forbidden field at the risk of being slaughtered! His Excellency, if he so wishes today, can halt the trains, stop the post, disrupt the transaction of all merchandise. Tell me, then what will you do? Where can you go running away from him? Is there a place you can go? So, if one has to stay in this land under his authority, why create such disturbance? Remember this well, your very life is in his hands! He can bring down plague on you by spreading viruses. You are trying to block a storm with mere broomsticks. Beware of closing down the bazaar, I’m warning you, or else, I will give away my life right at this spot by refusing food and water.’

  One man expressed his apprehension, saying, ‘Maharaj, it would be at least a month by the time the vital breath leaves your body. What can happen in three days’ time?’

  Shastriji bellowed, ‘The soul does not reside in the body, it resides in the cosmos. If I wish, I can make my spirit depart this very moment through my yogic power. I have warned you, now it is up to you to decide what to do. If you listen to me, you will earn divine benediction. If not, you will be damned with murder and won’t be able to show your face anywhere in the world. So be it then, here and now I take my seat.’

  3

  People were stunned as the news spread in the town. This new trick employed by the administrators left them at their wits’ end. The Congressists kept on saying that the entire thing was a sham. That the loyalists had greased the pandit’s palms to play this farce. The entire government machinery—the bureaucracy, the judiciary and the legislature—having failed, this was the ruse they had employed. And that it was nothing but the bankruptcy of the polity. Else, since when did our Panditji become such a well-wisher of our nation that the plight of it would move him to undertake a fast? Let him die of hunger, although staying off food for two days would surely bring him back on track. This new subterfuge had to be pulled up by the roots! Otherwise, if this ploy succeeded, the officials—mind you—would get a new weapon in their hands, and they would deploy it every time. The people aren’t so sensible to discern these complexities. They’d be easily outfoxed by the bluff.

  But the merchants and moneylenders of the town, who were generally morally timid, became so alarmed that the reasoning of the Congressists had no effect on them. They started saying, ‘Sirs, we became an eyesore for the government listening to you, gave up our business with them, prepared ourselves for picking up losses—so many of us were rendered bankrupt. We lost face with the officials; whenever we used to go to them earlier they’d greet us saying, “Welcome, welcome, Sethji” and behave with us respectfully, and now we get pushed about on the railways and nobody bothers. Whether we generate revenue or not taxes keep mounting even on our dead stocks. We have tolerated all these things, and will tolerate them further; but in the matters of our dharma we cannot accept your directions. When a learned, noble and pious Brahmin sacrifices his food and water over us, how can we eat and stretching our feet go off to sleep? If at all he dies, what answers would we give God?’

  To cut things short, not a single explanation of the Congressists worked. A deputation of the traders presented themselves at the service of Panditji at nine in the night. As such, Panditji had had his more-than-a-full meal for the day, yet eating a meal like this was nothing out of the ordinary for him. Almost twenty days a month he would get an invitation and on such occasions it was quite normal for him to eat that much. Heavy meals were sometimes due to a feeling of competition among his peers at the invitation, sometimes at the humble insistence of his host, but on most occasions he would inevitably partake a meal of extra-large servings due to the palatability of the menu. And Panditji’s gastro-intestinal juices were used to coping with the stress of such an intake. So, now that it was dinner time, Panditji’s erstwhile firm decisions starte
d wobbling. This was not because he was by any way perturbed by the lack of food, because his stomach sent no such signals. But it often happens that at the usual mealtimes, even if there is no reaction from the guts and no feeling of feebleness felt by the body, it is the mind that sends the stimulus for the desire for food. This was what happened to Panditji at this time. His heart wanted to call out for a hawker, but the administration had posted quite a few sepoys around him for his bodily protection, and they showed no signs of going away from there. Panditji’s massive intellect was completely occupied with how to get rid of these messengers of death. Unnecessary nuisances, these! Am I a convict who would run away from here?

  The administration, on the other hand, had posted these guards to prevent the Congressists from trying to abduct Panditji. Who knew what schemes these Congressists had? It was the officials’ duty right now to protect Panditji from such untoward and disrespectful incidents.

  It was under these circumstances, when he was absorbed in deep thought, that the traders’ delegation presented themselves in front of him. Shastriji, who was lying down, supporting his body against his elbow, sat up straight. The leaders of the delegation touched his feet and said, ‘Maharaj, why have you turned your wrath on us? Your wish would be our command. Please get up and have your meal. We didn’t know that you had really made up your mind about this fast, or else, we would have come to request you earlier. Please be kind to us. It is going to be ten. We will never go against your word.’

  Shastriji: ‘These Congressists will not rest until they bring you to ruin. They are drowning themselves, and they will take you down with them! If the bazaar remains closed, whose loss would it be, yours or the government’s? You’ll give up your jobs and starve yourselves to death; would the government be affected? You’ll go to the jails, grind the mill there, would it affect the government? God only knows what prompts these fellows to ruin themselves and others. Don’t you come under the spell of these scatterbrains! Tell me, will you keep your shops open?’