The Complete Short Stories

Home > Other > The Complete Short Stories > Page 86
The Complete Short Stories Page 86

by Premchand


  ‘Hope clings to my breast.’

  After a while Laila asked again, ‘Have you eaten something and come?’

  ‘Now there is neither hunger nor thirst.’

  ‘Come, today let me feed you the food of the poor. Taste the pleasure of that as well.’

  Nadir could not refuse. There was a unique flavour in the millet rotis that day. He thought about the great joys that this huge mansion of the universe held. He felt as if his soul was being uplifted.

  When he finished eating, Laila said, ‘Now go. It is past midnight.’

  Eyes brimming with tears, Nadir said, ‘No, Laila. Now this shall be my abode too.’

  All day long Nadir would listen to Laila’s songs: in lanes, on roads, wherever she went he trailed after her. At night he would lie under her tree. The emperor tried to reason with him, the empress tried to reason with him, the nobles entreated with him but the obsession with Laila would not leave Nadir. In whatever condition Laila lived, he lived in that state too. The empress would send him the best delicacies, but Nadir would not even look at them.

  But Laila’s music no longer whetted the appetite. It was that strain of broken strings that had neither its earlier suppleness, nor magic, nor impact. She continued to sing, the audience continued to listen, but now she didn’t sing for her own heartfelt pleasure. She sang to please their hearts and the listeners never came compulsively, they came to make her happy.

  In this way six months passed.

  One day Laila did not go to sing. Nadir asked, ‘Why, Laila, aren’t you going to sing today?

  Laila said, ‘Now I will never go. Tell me honestly, do you enjoy my singing as much as you did before?’

  ‘Much more than before.’

  ‘But others don’t like it any more.’

  ‘Yes, I am shocked by this.’

  ‘It’s nothing to be shocked about. Earlier my heart was free. There was place in it for everyone; it would reach out to all hearts. Now you have shut its doors. Now only you are there, that’s why you alone prefer its voice. This heart is now of no use to anyone but you. Come, till today you were my slave; from now on I will be your woman. Come on, I will follow you. From today, you are my master. Set alight this hut. I will burn my tambourine in it.’

  3

  There was a festival of joy in each household of Tehran. Today Prince Nadir had married and brought home Laila. After a very long time his heart’s desires had been fulfilled. All of Tehran swore by the prince and shared in his happiness. The emperor on his part had proclaimed that on this auspicious occasion, no money or time was to be wasted, people should only gather at masjids and pray to the lord to bless the bridegroom and bride with a long life and prosperity. But on the wedding of their beloved prince, money, and more precious than money, time, was of no consequence. The rich engaged in festivities, lit torches, had music played, while the poor took up their tambourines and roamed the streets, jumping with joy.

  In the evening the rich and elite of the city gathered in the Diwan-e Khaas to congratulate the prince. Fragrant with perfume, glittering with jewels and blossoming with happiness, the prince came and stood before them.

  The qazi pronounced, ‘May the lord bless His Highness.’

  A thousand voices said, ‘Amen!’

  The wealthy wives of the city too came to congratulate Laila. Laila was dressed in absolutely plain garments. There were no signs of adornment.

  One of the women said, ‘May your husband live forever.’

  A thousand throats echoed, ‘Amen!’

  4

  Many years passed Nadir was now the emperor and Laila his empress. Iran had never been so well governed. Both were benevolent towards their subjects, both wished to see them contented and self-sufficient. Love had so far erased all those problems that initially made Laila apprehensive. Nadir advocated monarchy, Laila, democracy, but in their interactions, there were no differences. Sometimes he would surrender and at other times she would give in. Their marital life was exemplary. Nadir would observe Laila’s expression, Laila would do the same. When they got some respite from work they would both sing and play, sometimes go wandering by rivers, sometimes sit under the shade of some tree reading and swaying to the ghazals of Hafiz. No longer did Laila lead a simple life and nor did Nadir follow the royal practices of the past. The emperor’s palace, which had housed harems that had begums in scores and dozens, now had Laila alone. In those palaces there were now dispensaries, madrasas and libraries. Where once the annual revenues had reached millions, now they never went over a few thousands. The leftover money was spent on public welfare. This entire plan had been drafted by Laila. Nadir was the emperor but the power was in Laila’s hands.

  Everything was in place but the public was not content. Its dissatisfaction grew day by day. The monarchists were afraid that if such conditions prevailed, there was no doubt about the monarchy being wiped out. The tree planted by Jamshed that had for many centuries withstood storms and turbulences was now being rooted out by the delicate yet lethal hands of a beauty. The democrats had had high hopes from Laila, but now all their misgivings were being proved right. They said that if Iran proceeded in this manner on the road to progress, then Doomsday would come before the desired destination was reached. The world is flying in aeroplanes and we are still afraid to even sit on carts for fear that some movement of it may cause an earthquake. Both factions often quarrelled with each other. Nadir’s explanations had no effect on the rich—neither did Laila’s advice to the poor. The nobility became bloodthirsty for Nadir while the public became Laila’s enemy.

  5

  While discontent spread throughout the empire, the fire of rebellion kindled many hearts. In the emperor’s palace the peace of love reigned, the emperor and his queen both under the illusion that the people were content.

  It was night. Nadir and Laila were seated in the recreation chamber, playing a game of chess. The room was without any ostentation; only a rug was spread out.

  Nadir caught hold of Laila’s hand and said, ‘Enough, no more of this unfairness, your turn is over. Look here, one of your pawns has been beaten.’

  ‘Oh, this move! All your infantry remain and the king is checkmated! This was my bet.’

  ‘The pleasure of losing to you is far more than winning against you.’

  ‘Oh, so you mean you are pleasing yourself! Save the king or you will lose in the next move.’

  Vexed, Nadir retorted, ‘All right now, beware, you have dishonoured my king. Once my queen is up, all your pawns will be wiped out.’

  ‘You seem to have news of everything! Come on, make a move. Now let your queen speak. No excuses now, I’m telling you. Twice I’ve let you off, this time I won’t.’

  ‘As long as I have my knight, my Dilram the king has nothing to fear.’

  ‘Oh, this move? Give me your Dilram. Now say, do you accept defeat?’

  ‘Yes, beloved, now I have been routed. When I have been swept by your charm, then what chance did the king have?’

  ‘Don’t make excuses, sign this farman quietly. As you had promised.’ Saying this Laila took out the farman, which she had herself written in pear-like letters. In it, the revenue tax for grain had been reduced to half. Laila had not forgotten the subjects; even now she was engaged in their welfare. Nadir had promised to sign the farman on the condition that she defeated him three times at chess. That he was a veteran player, Laila knew, but these were not moves of shatranj, it was only sport. Nadir smilingly signed the farman. With one stroke of the pen the people were freed from an annual tax worth five million. Laila’s face flushed with pride. That task which years of agitation had been unable to bring about the gaze of love had accomplished in just a few days.

  Her happiness brimmed over as she thought of the moment the farman would be published in the government gazettes and be seen by lawmakers, and how happy those who cared for the welfare of the masses would be. People will sing my praises and bless me.

  Lost in love, Nadir loo
ked at her moonlike face, and it seemed as though if it was within his means he would have stored away her beautiful visage in his heart.

  6

  Suddenly there was a furore at the palace entrance. Like a swarm of ants a horde of people, heavily armed, jostled at the palace gates, trying to bring down the walls. With each passing minute the cacophony intensified and it seemed that the angry mob would break the gates and storm in. Then it was found that some people had scaled the walls on ladders. Laila stood there in shame and sorrow, her head bent. Not a word escaped her lips.

  Was this the same public whose tales of suffering made her voice impassioned? Were these the same helpless downtrodden, starving, masses tormented by oppression, to whom she had dedicated herself?

  Nadir too stood silent but not from shame. Wrath made his face burn, sparks flew from his eyes, he constantly bit his lips and his hand paused on the handle of his sword. He kept staring at Laila with sorrowful eyes. All he needed was one signal. At her command his army would make this rebel faction flee in the same way a storm bears away the leaves, but Laila would not meet his gaze.

  Finally losing patience, he said, ‘Laila, I want to summon the royal army. What do you say?’

  Laila looked at him with helpless eyes, saying, ‘Just wait a while, first ask these people what they want.’

  At this indication, Nadir went up to the roof. Laila followed behind. Both of them now stood facing the public. People saw them standing on the rooftop in the light of the torches and it appeared as if the gods had descended from the skies. From a thousand voices came the cry—‘There she stands, there she is, there Laila is!’ This was the same people that used to be spellbound by Laila’s melodious songs.

  Nadir addressed the rebels in a loud voice, ‘Oh you unfortunate subjects of Iran. Why have you surrounded the royal palace? Why have you raised the flag of revolt? Have you no fear either of me or of your God? Don’t you know that at one sign from my eyes your existence can be reduced to ashes? I command you to go away this very instant or else I swear by the holy book, I will make rivers of your blood flow.’

  One of the men, who seemed to be the leader of the rebels, came up in front and said, ‘We will not leave until the royal palace is rid of Laila.’

  Nadir said wrathfully, ‘Oh you ingrates, fear the lord! Aren’t you ashamed of offending your queen’s dignity! Ever since Laila became your queen she has indulged you so much. Have you completely forgotten that? You brutes, she is the empress but she eats the same food that you feed the dogs, wears the same clothes you give away to fakirs. Come and see the royal chambers, you will find it empty of ostentation and grandeur like your houses. In spite of being your empress Laila leads the life of a fakir, so constantly is she absorbed in serving you. You should be putting the dust of her feet upon your forehead, making it the kohl of your eyes. Never before on the throne of Iran has there stepped an empress who would sacrifice her life for the poor, share their grief, surrender everything for them; and at her nobility you would cast such a slur! Pity! I have come to realize that you are ignorant, bereft of humanity and vile! You are fit only to have your necks cut with a blunt knife, you should be trampled beneath the feet of—’

  Before Nadir could even finish speaking the rebels screamed in one voice, ‘Laila . . . Laila is our enemy, we cannot tolerate her as our empress.’

  Nadir shouted aloud, ‘You heartless people, just be silent; look here at this farman which Laila has now forced me to sign. From today the tax on the harvest has been reduced to half and the burden of tax upon your heads is now five million less.’

  Thousands of people cried out, ‘This tax should have been done away with completely a long time back. We can’t give even a penny. Laila, Laila, we cannot bear to see her as our empress.’

  Now the emperor trembled with anger. Laila said with brimming eyes, ‘If it is indeed the people’s wish that I once again roam around playing my tambourine, then I have no objections. I am quite sure that I will again rule their hearts with my singing.’

  Enraged, Nadir said, ‘Laila, I am not a slave to the empire’s frivolous temperament. Before I let you be separated from my life, the lanes of Tehran will become red with blood. Let me make these wicked people taste the just deserts of their cunning.’

  Nadir climbed the minar and tolled the danger bell. All of Tehran resounded with its ringing but not a single soldier from the royal army could be seen.

  Nadir tolled the bell again, the heavens shook with its clanging, the constellations trembled, but not one soldier emerged.

  Nadir then tolled the bell a third time but this too was answered by an exhausted echo, like a dying man’s last words of prayer.

  Nadir beat his forehead. He understood that bad days had befallen him. Even now he could sacrifice Laila to the mean demands of the public and safeguard his throne but Laila was more precious to him than life. He went to the rooftop and clasping Laila’s hand left with her through the main gate. The rebels greeted them with a victory cry, but then inspired by some unknown force all of them cleared the way.

  Both of them silently walked away through the alleys of Tehran. There was darkness all around. Shops were shut. Silence hung upon the markets. No one stirred out of their houses. Even the fakirs had taken shelter in the masjids. But there was no refuge for these two souls. Nadir had a sword at his waist, Laila had a tambourine in her hand. These alone were the symbols of their immense but now lost wealth.

  7

  A whole year went by. Laila and Nadir wearily trudged through many lands. Samarkand and Bukhara, Baghdad and Haleb, Cairo and Aden—all these lands they explored. Laila’s tambourine again began to do magic. There would be restlessness in the city on hearing her voice, men would mill around, receptions would be given, but these two travellers never stopped anywhere for more than a day. They would neither ask anyone for anything nor would they knock at any door. They had only the most frugal food. They would spend the night sometimes under a tree, sometimes in a cave and sometimes by the roadside. The harshness of the world had alienated them; they fled miles away from its temptations. They had realized that here, the one to whom you dedicate your life becomes your enemy; the one for whom you do good descends into evil. Here you should not build any bonds. They would receive invitations from the aristocracy. People would beg a thousand times to have them as a day’s guest but Laila would respond to none. Now and then Nadir would be struck by the pangs of kingship. In disguise he would want to wage a mighty war against Tehran, inflict a crushing defeat on the rebels and become its absolute ruler. But seeing Laila’s indifference he did not have the courage to meet anyone. Laila was his soulmate, he danced to her tune.

  Back in Tehran there was widespread misrule. Fed up with the people, the aristocracy too had raised armies and every other day the two sides would engage in battle. A whole year went by with fields unsown, a terrible famine striking the land, feeble business and an empty treasury. Day by day the power of the people weakened and the might of the aristocracy increased. Finally matters reached a head when the people surrendered their arms and the aristocracy established their control over the royal palace. The leaders of the people were hung; many were imprisoned and democracy came to an end. The people in power now remembered Nadir. Experience had proved that the country lacked the ability to sustain a democracy. No evidence was needed for this perception. At this stage, only the royalty could redeem the country. It was understood that Laila and Nadir would no longer particularly care for public opinion. They would sit on the throne but remain puppets in the hands of the aristocracy who would have the opportunity to inflict whatever atrocities suited their whims. So they consulted each other and representatives set out to persuade Nadir to return.

  8

  It was evening. Laila and Nadir were sitting under a tree in Damascus. The sky was tinged with red and the silhouette of the encircling mountains that mingled with it made it seem like a host of wilted lotuses. Laila was looking at this splendour of nature with joyful
eyes. Nadir was lying despondent and worried, looking at the province in the distance with thirsty eyes, weary of this life.

  Suddenly a cloud of dust could be seen and in a moment it appeared that some men on horseback were approaching. Nadir sat up and began to carefully scan the people. Startled, he stood up. His features lit up like a lamp, and an unusual energy seemed to flow through his worn out body. Eagerly he said, ‘Laila, these men are from Iran, I can swear by the Holy Book, these men are from Iran. It is clearly evident from their attire.’

  Laila too looked at the travellers and becoming alert said, ‘Keep your sword ready, you might need it.’

  ‘No, Laila, the people of Iran have not fallen so low as to raise their swords upon their emperor.’

  ‘I thought the same earlier.’

  The riders came close, reigned in their horses and with great respect saluted Nadir. Even though he tried to control himself Nadir could not check his emotions. He ran and embraced them. He was no longer an emperor but a wayfarer of Iran.

  Royalty was erased; he was Iranian to the core. Those three men appeared to him like divinities from Iran. He recognized them. He had often put their loyalties to the test. He wanted them to sit on his sackcloth but they sat on the ground. In their eyes, that sackcloth was the throne upon which they could not tread before their master. Conversation began. The condition of Iran was extremely lamentable. Looting and plundering were rampant; there were neither laws nor the people to implement them. If such conditions prevailed then perhaps very soon the yoke of subjugation would be around its neck. The country was now looking to Nadir for support. There was no one else but him who could see it sail through this distress. It was with this hope that they had come to him.

  Nadir said nonchalantly, ‘You took away my dignity, do you plan to take my life this time? I am living in great comfort! Don’t trouble me.’

 

‹ Prev