Mansarovar - Part IV

By Munshi Premchand

As a story-writer Premchand had become a legend in his own lifetime. The firmament of Premchand's stories is vast. In view of variety of topics, he, as though, had encompassed the entire sky of humane world into his fold. Each of Premchandji's stories unravels many sides of human mind, many streaks of man's conscience, the evils in some societal practices and heterogeneous angles of economic tortures. All this is done with complete artistry. His stories stir the readers' mind even today by means of their variegated layers of thoughts and feelings. They are all the heralds of human glories coming from the pen of a time-tested author. The very intrinsic nature of his stories, their external formats unfold their entire uniqueness and appeal to the reader's mind. Owing to such special features Premchandji's stories are still relevant today, as much as they were five decades ago. The chief themes of his stories are rooted to the rural life with city social life appearing as the contrast to illustrate the complete picture of contemporary Indian life. The stories of Munshi Premchand, fighting on behalf of the downtrodden of the society, who are suffering from the social and economic agonies, are the strongest assets of our Literature.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diamond Books
• Release date: Dec 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9788128822919

Book preview

1 REALISATION

(Anubhav)

Priyatam was sentenced to one year’s imprisonment. And his offence was but. that three days ago at the scorching noon of this Jaithh he treated a few patriots with drinks of sherbat. I was there in the court, standing. Outside the courtroom throughout the township people’s political conscience seemed howling like captivated animal. The treasure of my life, my husband, was brought in, chained. All around was hushed silence. Inside me was tumultuous lament as if my heart was melting away. Surges of emotion was there one by one to give tremors in my sensation. Ah! What a terrific pride, one that I never had before.

That court, the British officer seated in the chair, the policemen in their red gold-brocaded turbans—all seemed trivial to my vision. Time and again I felt temptation to rush to my treasure of life, my husband, and fall down at his feet inseparably, and breathe my last there itself. What a calm, unswerving brilliant appearance was his, glowing with self-respect! Not even shadow of remorse or gloom or sadness was there. No, there was instead on those lips of his streak of smile full of joy, charming and glorious. For such a trifle offence rigorous imprisonment for one year! Alas! what a justice was it! Ah! if I could own his miseries! I was ready to do thousands of such offences.

The lord of my life, my husband, turned about to see me before he was moved away; he smiled to me for a while, next moment when he moved he wore hard look. After my return from the court, I bought sweetmeats worth five rupees and calling the volunteers gave them to eat these. In" the evening for the first time in my life, I joined the gathering of the Congress members—not only that I joined, I even got up to the dais and took oath for satyagraha. I cannot say from where I acquired such power of mind. Whom I’m to be afraid of now? Having been robbed of everything? How the harshest onslaught of the Almighty could now injure me?

2

Next day I sent two telegrams—one to my father, another to my father-in-law. My father-in-law was a pensioner. My father was in a high post in the forest department; no response of the wires. Even the next day came no reply. On the third day the two sires’ letters I received. Both were out of their limits of anger. The father-in-law wrote back: I had hopes, at my old age you two would look after me. Instead you dissipated all my hopes. What do you want now, should I beg for my living? I get pension from the government. I cannot afford to lose that by giving you shelter at mine. My father’s words were not as harsh; yet his sense was quite alike. This year only he was scheduled to get his graded salary. If he called me at his home, it was likely he would be deprived of that as punitive measure. But yes, verbally always he could come to my help, he wrote. Both the letters I tore away, and never I wrote back to them. Alas self-interest! — how all-pervasive is your charm! It makes people so cruel only because there was a minor possible hurdle? My own father-in-law could become so much disinterested to his own daughter-in-law? Besides, what’s my age now? I had now all the life ahead of me to experience!

Since long, I was rather unconcerned about my own safety; but now hereafter this thought began pervading me. How would I live in this lonely house? Without basic source of living, in destitution? But where would I go? Had I been a male, I would have gone to the shelter of Congress, or would have joined a daily wager’s job. However, I was chained with the complicities of womanhood. I was not concerned about my life; but upon my womanhood no evil look must be allowed to cast.

I heard some awkward footsteps and looked down under. Two men were there at my gate. I felt like asking them, ‘Who are you? Why standing there?’ Next moment I realised, I don’t have any right of asking that. It was a thoroughfare; whoever would so want could stand there. However I had the doubt, which I could not remove from my heart by any means. As if a spark, it remained concealed within my conscience.

I shut the door of my room from inside, even when it was prickly hot. We had a dagger at our house. I took that out and kept near my pillow. The suspicion looming large upon me affronting.

Somebody called downstairs. My hairs got sensitive. I put my ears upon the door of my room to hear minutely. Somebody was rattling the chain of my door asking to open. My heart began beating, excited. Those two scoundrels must have come there! Why are they rattling the chain of my door? What have they to do with me? I got irritated. I didn’t open the door, but taking position on the terrace I shouted rudely at the caller: ‘Who’s there rattling the chain?’

As I heard the response, my fear subsided. What a comfort was it which followed. That was Babu Gyanchand’s. Among my husband’s friends none else was more gentleman. I came downstairs and opened the door. A lady was there too. She was Mrs Gyanchand. She was older than me. For the first time today she came to our house. I touched her feet, showing respect. In our society friendship is confined to males, it could not reach out to females inside.

Both came upstairs. Gyanchand was a school master. Very broad-minded, learned and ingenuous; but today only I learnt that his guide was his wife. She was stoutish and talented. Such majesticity had she or her countenance, as if she was a queen. From her head to foot she had worn ornaments. Her face was not beautiful, but she was charming. If I had seen her anywhere else perhaps I would have turned my face away from her. She was a living goddess of glory; much rude in her outward look, but kind-hearted as much inwardly.

— Written home any letter?—She asked me after some hesitation.

I replied : Yes, I did.

— Anybody coming to take you back home.

— No, neither my father-in-law wants to keep me with him, nor does my father.

— What would you do then?

— What else! I am staying here only presently.

— Why don’t you come to my house? I can’t allow you stay here all by yourself.

— But there seem two men from the secret police positioned even at this hour on road.

—I could understand at the very first instance. They must be from the secret police.

Gyanbabu looked at his wife, and seemingly asking for her permission said: Should I go to call a tonga?

Deviji looked back at him in such demeanour as if asking: Why are you still hesitating?

Master sahab went towards the gate silently.

—Wait, Deviji said: How many tongas do you think you should call for?

—How many? Master sahab got puzzled.

—Yes, tell me how many? Two or three passengers only could seat in one tonga. What about the chest, beddings, utensils and kitchenware? Would I have to carry them on my head?

— Alright, I should call for two perhaps, —master sahab replied flatteringly.

— How many luggage would you like to pile up in one tonga?

— Then I should call for three, right?

— But, why not going right away? You take hours just for insignificant talks.

Before I could utter anything, Gyanbabu left. Shrinking at their concern for me I said: Sister, you would feel bothered at my staying with yours, besides,….

Sharply Deviji replied: Yes of course I would be bothered. Both times you would eat meals worth two-three quarter of a seer of flour, would gather an assembly in one corner of a room everyday, apply on your head oil worth of two-three annas. Well, are all these botheration just a trifle?

Blushed I replied: You are only joking.

Deviji placed a hand on my shoulder kindly and said: When your dear husband returns home, you also invite me at yours to stay with you. My loss would be compensated. Right. Do you agree now to come with us? Come, pack up your baggages. Furniture we would get pick up by tomorrow.

3

Never I had come across a lady, such hearty, open minded, speaking lively words. Had I been her younger sister, even then she would not have sheltered me in better terms. She seemed to have won over anxiety and anger. All the time on her face would be pleasant humour. She did not have a son, yet never had I saw her sad. She had employed a boy servant for helping in day to day outdoor works. In-house all the chores she herself used to do. She used to take a little quantum