The Complete Short Stories

by Premchand

  One gentleman expressed a doubt: ‘Shall we live to see the end of this practice?’

  Yashodanand: ‘I wish we do. The guilty would be punished and that’s how it ought to be.. What a tyranny that such greedy, sacrilegious money-seekers, slave-dealers and sellers of their sons are alive and thriving. The society does not desert them. But all of them are slave-dealers and so on.’

  The lecture was long and full of scorn. People were all praise. After his lecture, he brought his younger son, Parmanand, who was around seven years of age, on the stage. He had handed the boy a short written speech. He wanted to show how intelligent even the small children of his family were. No one complained as making children deliver speeches in social gatherings was a familiar practice. The child was very beautiful, bright and cheerful. He came on the stage smiling and started reading with pride from a note he took out of his pocket:

  Dear brother,

  Namaskar,

  Your letter indicates that you don’t trust me. With God as my witness I swear that the agreed upon money will reach you so secretly that no one will suspect anything. But I do take this liberty of asking you for a favour. What will be my discount in lieu of the good image and prestige that you will earn in the society and the condemnation that I will receive from my folks in keeping this transaction a secret? I humbly request you to bring the twenty-five down by five and do justice to me.

  Yashodanand had gone to give instructions for dinner to be served. When he came back, this sentence fell into his ears—‘bring the twenty-five down by five and do justice to me’. His face went pale. He rushed towards the boy, snatched the paper from him and said, ‘Fool, what is this you are reading? This is a letter by a client about a case. Where did you fetch this from, you naughty boy? Go, get the paper that was written for you!’

  First gentleman: ‘Let him read. The pleasure this note provides will not be there in any other speech.’

  Second gentleman: ‘This is truly impressive.’

  Third gentleman: ‘Let this party be over now. I am off.’

  Fourth gentleman: ‘I will also make a move!’

  Yashodanand: ‘Please take your seats. The plates are being laid out.’

  First gentleman: ‘Beta Parmanand, come here for a while. Where did you get that note?’

  Parmanand: ‘Babuji had written this and kept it in his drawer. He had asked me to read it out. Now he is needlessly angry with me.’

  Yashodanand: ‘Was it THAT paper, you pig! I had kept that one on the table. Why did you bring this out from the drawer?’

  Parmanand: ‘But I did not find it on the table.’

  Yashodanand: ‘Then why didn’t you ask me? Why did you open the drawer? You see what I am going to do to you today. You will remember it forever.’

  First gentleman: ‘This is the voice from heaven.’

  Second gentleman: ‘This is called leadership. Get what you want and earn the name as well.’

  Third gentleman: ‘It’s a matter of shame. Leadership comes from sacrifice and not fraud.’

  Fourth gentleman: ‘It did come but was lost by a whisker.’

  Fifth gentleman: ‘This is how God punishes the fraudsters.’

  People stood up uttering these words. Yashodanand knew that his game was up. Nothing was going to work now. He gave Parmanand dirty looks and gestured menacingly at him. This devil made me lose a winning game today, my face has been blackened. My head has been hung low. He deserves to be shot.

  Meanwhile, his friends were leaving with these comments:

  First: ‘How God has blackened his face. He will not show his face if he has any grace left.’

  Second: ‘I am surprised that such rich, renowned and intelligent people can be so sinful. Take it openly if you want. Who is stopping you? How can you secretly pilfer money and then earn a name for not doing it?’

  Third: ‘Shame on the impostor.’

  Fourth: ‘I pity Yashodanand. Poor fellow acted so wickedly but was finally exposed. He lost by a whisker.’

  Translated from the Hindi by Nishat Zaidi

  Initiation

  1

  In my school days when I played football and suffered the rebukes of my teachers, that is to say, during my adolescence, when knowledge hadn’t dawned on me, and my faculties weren’t fully developed, I was an enthusiastic member of the Temperance Society (Association for Prohibition). Every day, I would participate in their demonstrations and collect funds for them. Not only that, I had also taken vows and was determined to stand by them for life. While initiating me into it, the headmaster had asked me, ‘Do you have enough faith in the cause to keep you going for life?’ and I had answered firmly, ‘Yes, I am fully confident!’ The headmaster had smiled and placed the letter of the pledge in front of me. I had felt so ecstatic that day. I had roamed around with my head bursting to the full, swollen with pride. I strutted around proudly. Many a time, I would even misbehave with my father because he used to have a drink every evening in order to overcome the day’s weariness. I found this unbearable. To be honest, my father drank, but in style. The moment he felt a little intoxicated, he would nibble something. He was always a very small eater—and then for the entire night he would be released from the shackles of worldly attachments. I would lecture him and argue with him, all fired up. Once, I crossed all limits. I smashed his glass and bottle on the stone slab with such demonic force that even Krishna wouldn’t have battered Kansa like that. The house was scattered with splinters of glass everywhere and the barefoot women bled for days. But just look at my enthusiasm! I hadn’t anticipated my father’s foresight. When he returned home and heard the grievous news about the loss of his life-giving medicine, he went straight to the market and in no time the empty shelf was refurbished. Meanwhile, I braced myself for the confrontation, but there wasn’t even a flicker of a frown on my father’s face. He looked at me and smiled with encouragement. It seems to me now that it was a look full of happiness, pure goodwill and divine love. He smiled in the same way the headmaster had smiled at me a few months ago. It is only now that I understand the meaning of his smile, at that time I was completely clueless. As far as I can see, this has been the only addition to my knowledge. That smile had been full of sarcasm and ridicule for my childish enthusiasm and pity for my naivety. Only now do I understand its pathos!

  All through my college years, I remained steadfast in my vow. Many of my friends gave in. I was considered to be an ideal person. In college there was no getting away with this kind of abstinence. I was made fun of, some would call me a mullah, and others laughed and called me a preacher. My friends sighed contemptuously, ‘What a pity, you haven’t tasted a drop!’ The upshot of this was that I took to being very generous. I would see my friends drinking in the room and I would just sit and watch them. When they ground bhang, I would sit and watch them. People would insist, ‘Come on, have a little,’ and I would politely refuse saying, ‘Forgive me, but this does not suit my system.’ Instead of invoking principles, now I was hiding under the pretext of physical incapacity. That mad rush of satyagraha, which had found its climax in smashing my father’s bottle had vanished completely. So much so that in the fourth year of college, when I heard the news of my son’s birth, I crossed all bounds of generosity. Forced by my friends’ pleas, I threw a feast for them and served them drinks with my own hands. That day I experienced great joy in being a cupbearer. In fact, generosity is just another name for falling short of one’s ideals or forgetting one’s principles. One is never short of finding the means to justify one’s conduct. The easiest thing on earth is to fool oneself —I haven’t had any drinks, I merely served, how would this harm me? At least I did not disappoint my friends. True fun lies in offering drink to others while one abstains from it.

  In any case, I emerged unscathed from college. I started practising law in my town. From morning till midnight, I would be grinding it out. All those laidback days of college, the walks, wanderings and pleasures, everything had turned into a dream. My fr
iends’ visits had also stopped. Even in the holidays, there was hardly time to breathe. I realized exactly what a life in battle could be. It is an error to even call it a battle. Where is the enthusiasm, the excitement, the courage and the applause of victory in all this? No, sir, this is no battle, it is just jostling and shuffling along. It is more like wanting to see the sideshows in a fair despite being pushed around from all sides. There is no tryst with the beloved here, just kissing the threshold of her house, suffering the foul-mouthed guard and returning home with a sorry face.

  Sitting all through the day in the courts was getting monotonous. After returning home, I would barely eat two rotis and ask myself —is it for this that I work my brains and eyes off? Languish and waste yourself, and all for nothing! Along with this there was the desire to own a motorcar, a big bungalow, a little land and have substantial savings in the bank. But even if I were to get all this, what would I gain? My children might be the ones to gain and I would have died in vain. I would merely be like the snake who guarded the treasure, no . . . no, I couldn’t allow this. I will not sacrifice my life for others. I too will enjoy the fruits of my toil—what should I do? Shall I go sightseeing? But then my clients would get dispersed. In any case I was not such a famed lawyer that things wouldn’t work without me, and what’s more, unlike our great leaders of the Non-Cooperation Movement, I did not have the ability to pounce on a big prey when I saw one. Here one could only target tiny birds. Then should I go to the theatre every day? It’s quite useless. I would have to go to sleep at two every night, which would mean a premature death. After all, I have other colleagues. How were they always happy and relaxed? It seemed as if they had no worries. Self-serving is the essence of English education. The East dies for the sake of children, fame and religion, while the West cares only for itself. In the East, the master of the house is the servant of all, he works the hardest, eats only after feeding the rest, dresses after clothing them, but in the West, he considers it his right to eat and wear the best. Here the family is supreme, whereas there it is the individual. We are Eastern in our public selves and Western privately. All our true ideals are fast vanishing. I started wondering what I had gained from all the years of deprivation. I worked like an ass every day and slept with my head under the covers. Was this a life? No happiness, no entertainment; after slogging away at work the whole day, how could I be expected to play tennis? Even to get fresh air, one needed a good pair of shoes. There was only one way to make this kind of life pleasurable—sweet oblivion that would release me momentarily from the tensions of this world. I would forget my sorry plight, forget myself, laugh a little, break out in a guffaw, let my heart be filled with gladness. There was only one herb that had a cure for this and I knew it. Forget the pledge and the vows, those were things of one’s childhood. How was I to know that such a thing would come to pass? There was a lot of zest then, I had strong limbs and there had been no need to ride a horse! It was youthful passion that had spurred me on. Now it was no more!

  This thought began to shake off all my accumulated resolves. Every day, it would emerge armed with new devices—why? Are you the cleverest? Everybody drinks. Look at the judges, they leave the courts and go drinking. In the olden days, it had been easy to stick by such vows when living had not been so difficult. Of course people would laugh, ‘O you who were such a steadfast one, now you too have succumbed!’ Let them laugh, I took my vows without giving them a thought. It is because of the vow that I have had to endure this ordeal for such a long time. I haven’t achieved any greatness or won any honours because I haven’t been drinking. Have I? Earlier, I would read in books, this is bad, that is bad, but I see no ill effects of it anywhere. Yes, it is another thing to become completely drunk and lose control. But by that logic, even the best things taken in excess or misused can be very harmful. Even knowledge when it crosses all boundaries verges on heresy. One ought to drink in moderation in order to awaken one’s senses, not put them to sleep. The first day might prove a little uncomfortable. After that, who cares? I ought to plan things in such a way that others will force me to drink and my reputation will remain unsullied. Once my vow is broken, I won’t need to justify myself, and I wouldn’t have to feel ashamed in front of my family.

  2

  I decided that this act would be put up on the day of Holi. There couldn’t be a better day for this initiation. Holi is a day of drinking and getting people drunk. It is permissible to get drunk on that day. If Holi can be a holy day then so can there be holy thieving and holy bribing.

  Holi finally arrived, after what seemed like a very long wait. I started preparing for my initiation. I invited several friends over. I ordered whiskey and champagne from Kelner’s shop and packed the whole place with lemonade, soda, ice, gajak, scented tobacco, and so on. The room wasn’t very large. I had to remove some cupboards full of law books and spread out a mat on the floor. Having done all that, I started waiting for my guests, just like birds spread their wings and call out to the bird catchers.

  My friends started trickling in one by one. By nine o’clock all of them had arrived. Among them, there were those who were very easily overwhelmed by spirits while others could be said to be the followers of Sage Kumbhaj, absorbing the entire ocean of alcohol and polishing off one bottle after another without the slightest reddening of the eyes. I brought the bottles, glasses and plates decorated with gajak and placed these in front of them.

  One gentleman said, ‘Yaar, there is no fun without ice and soda.’

  I replied, ‘Oh I forgot to bring them here. I’ll just get them.’

  ‘So, then let’s say Bismilla!’

  ‘Who will be the cupbearer?’ asked a second gentleman.

  I offered, ‘Let this privilege be mine.’

  I started pouring the drinks and my friends started drinking. The marketplace of chatter started warming up; the banter of bawdy jokes started blowing like a storm; but no one asked me to drink. I felt like an utter fool! Maybe they were diffident about asking me. But no one asked me even in jest, as if I were a Vaishnav. How do I give them a hint? After much deliberation, I told them, ‘I have never had a drink.’

  One friend: ‘Why not? You will have to answer for this in heaven.’

  Second: ‘Tell us, tell us, what will you say? Let me ask you on His behalf—why have you never drunk?’

  I: ‘Well, my disposition . . . never felt the need.’

  Second: ‘This is no answer; did you bribe your way through your law exams?’

  Third: ‘Please answer. Give an answer, quick, what do you take God for, a nobody?’

  Second: ‘Do you have any objection, on religious grounds, to drinking?’

  I: ‘Maybe!’

  Third: ‘Wah the Great one! You are indeed a great soul! Let me see your tail.’

  I: ‘Why, do great men have tails?’

  Fourth: ‘Of course, some have one as long as a hand, others as long as two hands. Where are you, man? It is very hard to come across a saintly person. We are all sinners.’

  Third: ‘Saint lawyer, saint prostitute, oh-ho!’

  Second: ‘You can’t have objections on religious grounds. Being a lawyer means being devoid of religious thinking.’

  I: ‘Bhai, it does not suit me.’

  Third: ‘Yes, we have got him, we have got the miser. I shall make sure it suits you.’

  Second: ‘Why, has a doctor prescribed against it?’

  I: ‘No!’

  Third: ‘Wah! Wah! You have become your own doctor, the nectar does not suit you? At least try it once, O great one!’

  Second: ‘I am amazed to hear this from you. Bhaiji, this is medicine, the ultimate drug, the elixir of life. I hope you aren’t one of those who took the vows of temperance in their youth.’

  I: ‘What if I have?’

  Third: ‘Then you are a fool, an utter fool.’

  Fourth: ‘The drinks are about to flow, we sit before your eyes/

  Do not steal your glances from us, dear saqi, we are
here too.’

  Second: ‘We all swore by the Temperance Movement, but when that “we” no longer exists, how can that vow remain? Those vows have gone away with the days of our youth.’

  I: ‘After all, what is to be gained from this?’

  Second: ‘One can only know that after drinking. Drink a glass. If you don’t gain anything, then don’t drink any more.’

  Third: ‘We have got him, now we will make the miser drink.’

  Fourth: ‘With my injured heart, I drink night and day/

  And even while asleep, endlessly I take your name.’

  First: ‘You fellows won’t succeed, only I know how to make him drink.’

  This gentleman was well-built and healthy. He pressed my throat tightly and forced the drink into my mouth. My vow was broken, I was initiated at last. My heart’s desire was met, yet with feigned anger I said, ‘You want to drag me down along with you.’

  Second: ‘Congratulations! Congratulations!’

  Third: ‘Congratulations a hundred times!’

  3

  A newly initiated person is very righteous. Relieved from the day’s debates and arguments when I sat by myself or with a couple of friends in the evening and guzzled the pegs, I felt ecstatic. I slept very well at night but in the morning, every inch of my body ached. I yawned, my mind weakened, and I wanted to keep on lying and lazing away in bed. My friends suggested that a good way to get rid of a hangover was to consume a peg or two in the morning as well. I took this to heart. Earlier, at dusk, I would pray first thing after washing up. But now, I would quietly retire with a bottle of drink. I knew as much that addiction was bad and a person gradually became a slave to his addictions so much so that after some time he couldn’t live without them. But despite knowing this, I became completely dependent on alcohol. Things came to such a pass that without drinking, I couldn’t finish my work. What I had embraced for amusement had within a year become as indispensable to me as air and water. If I ever got dragged into arguing a case for very long, I felt as weary as if I had walked for miles. Whenever I returned home in this condition, I felt peeved about everything. Sometimes I would scold the servant, sometimes I would beat the children, and at times I would yell at my wife. All this was there, but unlike other drunkards, I never lost my senses completely, never blabbered, never created a scene, nor did my health show any signs of deterioration.