The Complete Short Stories

by Premchand

  Gaura sat in the room till evening but there was no news of Mangru’s whereabouts. Mangru must be free now. In the evening everybody is free. He must be coming now. The old Brahmin must have told him about her; couldn’t he have taken leave for a short while? Something must be the matter, that’s why he hasn’t come.

  It grew dark. There was no lamp in the room. Standing at the door, Gaura waited for her husband. She could hear the sound of many footsteps on the stairs. Again and again, Gaura felt that Mangru was coming, but nobody came that way.

  The old Brahmin arrived at nine o’clock. Gaura thought it was Mangru. She came out of the room quickly. When she saw that it was the Brahmin, she asked him, ‘Where is he?’

  The Brahmin replied, ‘He has been transferred from here. When I went to his office, I got to know that yesterday he and his sahib left on an eight-day journey. He pleaded with his sahib to give him ten days’ time but the sahib didn’t agree. Finally Mangru left a message with the people saying that if the members of his family arrived, they should be sent to him. He has left his address with them. Tomorrow I will put you on a ship. There will be many people from our country on that ship, so you won’t have any problems on the way.’

  ‘How long will the ship take?’

  ‘It won’t take less than eight to ten days, but there is no need to worry. You will not face any difficulties.’

  6

  Till now Gaura had been hopeful of returning to her village. She would definitely bring back her husband sometime or the other. But after boarding the ship she felt that she would never see her mother again, would never look at her village, and that her link with her country was being severed forever. Standing on the quayside, she cried for a long time; the ship and the sea scared her. Her heart was full of trepidation.

  The ship set sail in the evening. Her heart started quivering with a deep, imperishable fear. Despair overwhelmed her for a while. Who knows where I am going, whether I’ll meet him there or not. Where will I find him, I don’t even know his address. Time and again she regretted the fact that she hadn’t come one day earlier. If I had met him in Calcutta, I would never have let him go.

  There were many other passengers on the ship. There were some women too. They were constantly using foul language. That’s why Gaura never felt like talking to them. Only one woman appeared to be sad from her demeanour. She seemed to be from a good family. Gaura asked her, ‘Where are you going, behen?’

  The woman’s large eyes filled with tears. She said, ‘How can I tell you where I am going? I am going where destiny takes me. Where are you going?’

  ‘I am going to my lord and master. He works in the place where this ship will stop. If I had come yesterday, I could have met him in Calcutta. I got delayed. If I had known he would go so far away, would I have come so late?’

  ‘Oh, behen, has somebody misled you too? Who came with you from home?’

  ‘My husband sent a man from Calcutta to fetch me.’

  ‘Did you know him?’

  ‘No, it was an old Brahmin from a neighbouring village, he said.’

  ‘That tall, thin, stork of an old man, with a boil in one eye?’

  ‘Yes, yes, that one! Do you know him?’

  ‘He is the same villain who has destroyed me too. May God rot his next seven generations in hell, may he remain childless, and may he die a leper. If I tell you my story, you will think I am lying. Nobody will believe it. What shall I say? My life has been destroyed because of him. I can’t show my face to anybody. But life is precious. I am going to Mauritius so that I can spend the remaining days of my life by working as a labourer.’

  Gaura was scared to death. It seemed the ship was sinking in fathomless water. She realized that the old Brahmin had cheated her. In her village she had heard of poor people going to Mauritius as indentured labourers. However, anyone who went there never came back. ‘God, what sins of my mine have you punished me for?’ she said. ‘Why do they deceive people and send them to Mauritius?’

  ‘Greed for money, what else? I hear that all these people are given money for every person they hire.’

  ‘Behen, what will we have to do there?’

  ‘Labour.’

  Gaura wondered what she could do now. The boat of her hopes had foundered and there was no one to rescue her except the waves of the sea. The foundation, on which she had built the palace of her life, had submerged. Can there be any other refuge for her except water? She remembered her mother, her home, her village and her friends and she felt an intense, piercing pain as if a serpent, sitting in the core of her being, was striking her again and again. ‘God! If you were going to torment me like this, why was I ever born? Don’t you feel pity for a suffering woman? You torment only those who are already tormented!’

  She said in a pained voice, ‘What will we have to do now, behen?’

  ‘That we’ll know only when we reach there. If it comes to hard labour, I don’t mind but if anyone looks at me with a lustful eye, I have decided that I will either kill him or kill myself.’

  As she said this, she felt a strong desire, common to all unhappy people, to tell her story. She said, ‘I am the daughter of a prominent family and the daughter-in-law of an even more prominent one, but so unfortunate! My dear husband passed away in the third year of our marriage. I was in such a state that every day it seemed to me as if he were calling me. Initially I would see his image the moment I fell asleep but gradually I began to see him even when I was awake. It seemed as if he was standing in person and calling to me. I didn’t mention it to anyone out of embarrassment but I used to wonder how I could see him if he had died. Thinking this to be a delusion, how could I have calmed myself? My heart used to say, why can’t I obtain that which is apparent and visible? I only needed gyan. Who could impart that gyan except sages and holy men? I believe even now that there are certain practices by which we can talk to the dead and see them in their tangible form. I started searching for holy men. Ascetics would come to my house often; I used to talk to them on this subject when I was alone with them. But they would evade my questions by delivering sermons. I didn’t need sermons. I knew my duties as a widow very well. I wanted that secret knowledge which would lift the veil between life and death. For three years I kept diverting myself with this game. Two months ago, that same old Brahmin disguised as a sanyasi arrived at my home. I begged him for that gyan. That scoundrel spread such a web of deceit that I was trapped even though I had eyes to see. Now that I think about it, I am surprised I trusted him so much. I was willing to endure anything and to do anything for a glimpse of my husband. The sanyasi asked me to go to him one night. I went on the pretext of meeting my neighbour. A fire pit was smouldering near a peepul tree. In the bright moonlight, the sanyasi, with his matted locks, looked like an apostle of yoga. I stood near the fire pit. At that moment if he had ordered me to jump into the fire, I would have jumped instantly. Very affectionately he asked me to sit down and put his hand on my head. I don’t know what he did next but I fell unconscious. After that I don’t know where I went and what happened. When I regained consciousness, I was in a train. I felt like screaming but I sat quietly, thinking that even if the train stopped and I climbed out of it, I wouldn’t be allowed to enter my home. I was innocent in the eyes of God, but disgraced in the eyes of the world. To leave one’s home in the night was enough to taint a young woman. When I came to know that they were sending me to Mauritius, I didn’t object at all. The whole world is the same to me now. If a woman has nobody in this world, it doesn’t matter whether she is home or abroad. Yes, I have firmly decided that I will protect my honour till I die. There is no greater torment than death in the hands of fate. The fear of death for a widow! Life and death are the same for her. Rather, death is a release from the adversities of life.’

  Gaura thought, This woman has so much patience and courage. Why am I so cowardly and despondent? When life’s desires have ended, why should I fear death?

  She said, ‘Behen, you and I wil
l stay together; you are the only person I can rely upon.’

  The woman said, ‘Have faith in God and don’t be afraid of death.’

  It was pitch dark. Above them was the black sky, and below, the black waters. Gaura stared blankly at the sky, while her companion looked at the water. Before her were the stars and an endless, infinite and total darkness all around!

  A man started writing the names of the passengers as soon as they disembarked from the ship. He was dressed as an Englishman, but from his speech, he appeared to be an Indian. Gaura, head bowed low, was behind her companion. She was startled to hear the man’s voice. She glanced at him furtively. A tingling sensation swept through her entire body. ‘Am I dreaming?’ She didn’t believe her eyes; she looked at him again. Her heart started pounding fast. Her legs started shaking violently. It seemed as if she was totally surrounded by water and she was being swept away. She had to hold on to her companion’s hand, otherwise she would have fallen. The man standing in front of her was the very basis of her life and she hadn’t had the faintest hope of meeting him in this life. He was Mangru; there was no doubt about that. Yes, his face had changed. The youthful glow of his smiling and compassionate countenance was completely missing. His hair was peppered with grey, cheeks sunken and she could glimpse lust and harshness in his red eyes. But he was Mangru. Gaura felt a strong desire to cling to the feet of her lord. She wanted to scream but hesitation checked her. The old Brahmin had been right. My master had really called for me and he had come away before I arrived.

  She whispered to her companion, ‘Behen, you were wrong to blame the Brahmin. The man writing the names of the passengers is my husband.’

  ‘Really, do you recognize him?’

  ‘Behen, can there be any deception in this?’

  ‘Then Lady Luck has smiled on you. Please don’t forget me.’

  ‘Is it possible that I can abandon you?’

  Mangru lost his temper repeatedly and shouted abuses at the passengers time and again. He kicked many of them, and he pushed many to the ground for not being able to name the district their village belonged to. His behaviour filled Gaura with a sense of acute shame. At the same time, she also felt proud of his authority. Finally, Mangru came and stood in front of her, leered at her with lustful eyes and said, ’What is your name?’

  ‘Gaura.’

  Mangru started, and then asked, ‘Where is your home?’

  Gaura replied, ‘Madanpur, district Benares.’

  As she said this, she started laughing. This time Mangru looked at her carefully, sprang forward, grabbed her hand and said, ‘Gaura, is it really you! Do you recognize me?’

  Gaura broke into tears; she couldn’t utter a word.

  Mangru said again, ‘How did you come here?’

  Gaura wiped her tears and, looking at Mangru said, ‘You are the one who sent for me.’

  ‘Me! I have been here for the last seven years.’

  ‘Didn’t you ask that old Brahmin to bring me here?’

  ‘I’m telling you, I have been here for the last seven years, and I will leave this place only after my death. Why on earth would I send for you?’

  Gaura hadn’t expected such harshness from Mangru. She thought, Even if it is true that he didn’t call me, he should not have insulted me like this. Does he think that he will have to feed me? He didn’t have such a mean character. His position has probably gone to his head. Raising her head with pride, she said, ‘If you want, I can go back, I don’t want to be a burden to you.’

  Feeling a little ashamed, Mangru said, ‘Now you can’t go back from here, Gaura. Very few people ever return from here.’

  Having said this, he stood lost in worry for some time, as if in a dilemma about what to do. The outline of his harsh face was touched with a glimpse of misery. Then he said in a distressed tone, ‘Stay here now that you have come. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.’

  Gaura asked, ‘When will the ship return?’

  Mangru replied, ‘You can’t go back from here for five years.’

  ‘Why, is there a compulsion to stay?’

  ‘Yes, that is the order here.’

  ‘In that case, I will labour and fend for myself.’

  A tearful Mangru said, ‘As long as I live, you will not be parted from me.’

  ‘I don’t want to be a burden to you.’

  ‘I don’t consider you a burden, Gaura, but this place is not fit for a respectable woman like you, otherwise wouldn’t I have called you here earlier? In Patna, on my way from home, I met that same old man who lured you, and he tricked me into getting indentured here. I have been stuck here since then. Come, stay in my house, we’ll talk there. Who is this other woman?’

  ‘She is my friend. The old man trapped her too.’

  ‘She will go to one of the bungalows. All these people will be separated. They will each be sent to a bungalow, depending on how they are shared out.’

  ‘She wants to stay with me.’

  ‘All right, bring her along with you.’

  The names of the passengers had already been written down. After handing them over to a peon, Mangru set off towards his home with the two women. There were rows of densely foliaged trees on both sides. Only sugarcane fields were visible, as far as the eye could see. Gusts of a cool, clean breeze were blowing from the ocean. It was an extraordinarily a beautiful scene. But Mangru was not looking at any of this. Staring at the ground, head bent, his gait was unsure, as if he was puzzling over a problem in his mind.

  They had barely walked any distance when they saw two men coming from the opposite direction. As they neared, both stopped and one of them said with a laugh, ‘Mangru, one of them is mine.’

  The second one said, ‘And the other one is mine.’

  Mangru’s face flushed. Shaking with rage, he said, ‘Both these women belong to my family. Do you understand?’

  Both the men guffawed and one of them went close to Gaura and, trying to grab her hand, said, ‘She is mine, whether she belongs to your family or not. You trying to trick me?’

  Mangru growled, ‘Qasim, don’t touch them. If you do, you’ll regret it. I have told you that they are women of my family.’

  Mangru’s eyes were blazing. His expression frightened them a little and after threatening him, they moved ahead. But the moment they stepped out of Mangru’s vicinity, one of them challenged him, ‘Let’s see where you will take them.’

  Mangru ignored them. He lengthened his stride a little as we do in the solitude of the evening when we pass a graveyard. At every step, we suspect that we might hear some sound, that someone may come and face us, that something wearing a shroud may rise from beneath the ground and stand in front of us.

  Gaura said, ‘Scoundrels, both of them.’

  Mangru answered, ‘Why do you think I said that this place was not suitable for women like you?’

  Suddenly, an Englishman riding a horse came from the right and said to Mangru, ‘Well, jamadar, these women will stay in my bungalow. There is no woman there.’

  Mangru pushed the women behind him and shielding them said, ‘Sahib, these women are from my family.’

  ‘Really! You liar! There’s no woman in my house and you are taking two. I won’t let this happen. (Pointing towards Gaura.) Bring her to my house.’

  Trembling from head to toe, Mangru said, ‘That is not possible.’ But the sahib had ridden ahead without hearing him. He had given an order and it was the jamadar’s job to obey it.

  They faced no further obstacles on the way to the residential area. There were mud dwellings for the labourers. Men and women were sitting on the doorsteps of their houses. All of them stared at the two women and laughed, gesturing to each other. Gaura saw that there was neither any respect for age, nor a sense of shame in anybody’s eyes. An uncouth woman, holding a chillum in her hands, said to her neighbour, ‘Four nights of moonlight, and then the darkness of a waning moon. The dark days follow too soon.’

  The other one, plaiting her
hair, said, ‘Why not, after all, they are fresh, young ones.’

  7

  Mangru sat at the door the whole day like a farmer guarding his pea fields. Both the women were sitting in the small room cursing their fate. They were now familiar with the conditions prevailing here. They had been hungry and thirsty but seeing how things were in that place, hunger and thirst had disappeared.

  At around ten in the night, a guard came and asked Mangru to come with him as the agent was calling him.

  Mangru said from where he sat, ‘Listen, Nabbi, you are also from my country. If the need arises, you will help me, won’t you? Go and tell the sahib that Mangru has gone somewhere; at most he can fine me.’

  Nabbi: ‘No, bhaiya, he is very angry and drunk; if he hits me, well, I’m not so strong.’