by Premchand
‘Yes, he died while cutting the wood. What’ll happen now?’
His wife said calmly, ‘What will happen? Send word to the cobblers. Ask them to take the body away.’
In a moment, the news spread throughout the village where only one household belonged to the Gonds. The way to the well was where the corpse was lying. People stopped passing that way. Who would go to the well passing an untouchable’s body? An old woman told Panditji, ‘Why don’t you get the corpse disposed of? How can the people of the village draw water from the well? Meanwhile, the Gonds went to the cobblers’ enclosure and told them, ‘Beware! Don’t go pick up the corpse! The police will investigate first. Is it a joke to take a poor man’s life? Even though he’s a pandit, it doesn’t mean he can do anything and get away with it.’
When the Panditji arrived there, the cobblers were adamant that they would not pick up the corpse. Yes, both Dukhi’s wife and daughter came mourning to Panditji’s house and began howling. There were also about a dozen low-caste women with them; some cried, some consoled. But there was no low-caste man. Panditji threatened them, coaxed them but they were scared of the police. No one budged. Ultimately, he went back inside the house, disappointed.
4
The crying and howling continued till midnight. It was difficult for even the gods to sleep. But no one came to pick the corpse up and how could a high-caste holy man pick up an untouchable’s dead body? That’s not written in any religious text. Has anyone seen such a thing happen?
The pandit’s wife was annoyed. ‘These witches are giving me a headache. Aren’t they tired of howling?’
Panditji said, ‘Let them cry as much as they want. When he was alive, no one had cared for him. Now that he’s dead, everyone has come to create a ruckus.’
‘But it’s inauspicious.’
‘Yes, highly inauspicious!’
‘The stench has begun to spread already.’
‘Wasn’t he a cobbler! They eat everything, without discrimination.’
‘Don’t they feel any repulsion?’
‘They’re rotten—one and all.’
Somehow the night passed. In the morning too, no cobbler came. The women had left after their lamentation. The stench began to spread now.
Panditji took out a piece of rope. He made a noose with it and slipped it around the corpse’s leg. Dawn was breaking. He caught the other end of the rope and started pulling the corpse, and took it outside the village. He returned immediately, took a bath, read the scriptures and sprinkled the holy water of the Ganga in his house.
Meanwhile, jackals and vultures, crows and dogs had pounced on Dukhi’s body. This was the reward for a lifetime of devotion, service and allegiance.
Translated from the Hindi by M. Asaduddin
Temple
1
Salute to motherly love! Everything else in this world is false; indeed, all else is transitory, frail. For the past three days, Sukhiya had taken neither a morsel of food nor a drop of water. Lying on the straw, the mother’s child was groaning. For the past three days he hadn’t opened his eyes. Sometimes his mother would take him in her lap, sometimes she would make him sleep on the straw. Nobody could tell what had happened all of a sudden to such a lively child. In such a condition how could a mother feel hungry or thirsty? Once she had taken a sip of water but it would not go down her throat; the poor soul’s trouble was boundless. She had already surrendered two of her children to the Ganga. Her husband was dead. Now this child was her sole reason to live. Oh! Did God want to snatch him away too? Tears streamed down her face as such thoughts came to her mind. She didn’t leave the child alone even for a moment. She took him along when she went to cut grass, to the bazaar to sell the grass; she kept the child in her lap all the time. Sukhiya had got a small sickle and a tiny woven basket made for him. Jayawan would cut the grass with his mother and exclaim proudly, ‘Mother, make me a big sickle, we will cut a lot of grass. You can sit at the door sill and rest, I will sell it in the market.’ The mother would ask, ‘Son, what will you bring for me?’ Jayawan promised her bright red saris while he wanted a whole lot of jaggery for himself. These innocent words kept coming back to her and piercing her heart like an arrow. Whosoever saw the child said it was the effect of witchcraft. But whose spell? How could this widow have an enemy? If one had some clue as to who it was, Sukhiya would fall at his feet and keep the child in his lap. Wouldn’t his heart melt? But nobody was telling her the name! Whom should she ask? What should she do?
2
Three hours of night had passed. Her worried and restless heart was wandering. Which goddess should I seek protection from? To which god should I make a vow? Lying in this condition she dozed off. She saw her husband standing by the child’s bed and stroking his hair. He said to her, ‘Don’t weep Sukhiya! Your child will recover. Go and worship thakurji tomorrow, he will be your support.’ Sukhiya’s eyes opened. Her husband had definitely been there; Sukhiya had no doubt about it. The fact that he cared for her made her heart hopeful. Her eyes brimmed with tears of faith and love. She took the child in her lap and gazing towards the sky said, ‘God! May my child recover, I will worship you, have mercy on this orphaned widow.’
Jayawan’s eyes opened at that very moment. He asked for water. His mother rushed to fetch him water in a small bowl and made him drink.
After drinking the water, Jayawan said, ‘Mother, is it day or night?’
Sukhiya replied, ‘It is night, son. How do you feel?’
‘I’m well, mother. Now I’ve recovered.’
‘God bless you, my child, I will pray to God that you get well soon. Do you feel like eating something?’
‘Yes, mother, give me some jaggery.’
‘Don’t eat jaggery, son. It will harm you. Should I make some khichdi for you?’
‘No, mother! Give me a little jaggery, I fall at your feet.’
His mother could not ignore his plea. She took out a little jaggery and placed it in Jayawan’s hand. As she was closing the lid of the jar, someone called from outside. She left the jar there and went to open the door. Jayawan took out two more lumps of jaggery and quickly ate them.
3
The whole day Jayawan was fine. He ate some khichdi, once or twice he also went to the door slowly, and in spite of being unable to play with his companions, his heart was amused seeing them play. Sukhiya thought her son had recovered. In one or two days when she had some money in hand she would go to worship thakurji. The winter day passed in sweeping, bathing, eating and drinking, but when in the evening Jayawan’s health worsened, Sukhiya got worried. A suspicion arose in her heart that it was because of the delay in worship that her son had had a relapse. There was still some daytime left, so she made the child lie down and started gathering things for the puja. She got flowers from the zamindar’s garden. The tulsi plant was at her doorstep. But she also needed some sweets to offer as bhog to thakurji. Else, what would she distribute among the villagers? She definitely needed at least an anna to offer thakurji. She scoured the entire village looking for a lender, but when she didn’t get money from anywhere she grew sad. Bad days, nobody lends even four annas. At last she took off the silver bangles she was wearing and ran to the pawnbroker. She pawned them, bought sweets and ran to her house. When the things were arranged, she picked up the child in one hand, held the puja tray in the other and ran towards the temple.
The aarti bells were ringing in the temple. Five to ten devotees were standing and chanting hymns of praise to God. Meanwhile Sukhiya went and stood in front of the temple.
The priest asked, ‘What’s the matter? What are you doing here?’
Sukhiya moved closer to the platform and said, ‘I had kept a vow for thakurji, Maharaj. So I have come to offer puja.’
In the daytime the priest worshipped his zamindar customers, in the morning and evening, thakurji’s. He slept in the temple at night. His food was also cooked in the temple, as a consequence of which the statue of thakurji had blackened. He was
very kind-hearted, and such a devotee that no matter how cold it grew, no matter how harsh the wind blew, he didn’t even drink water without bathing. In spite of this if there was a layer of dirt on his hands and feet it wasn’t his fault. He said, ‘So, you want to come inside? The puja is over. Will you come and defile it?’
A devotee remarked, ‘She has come to purify thakurji.’
Sukhiya said helplessly, ‘I have come to touch the feet of thakurji, Sir. I have brought all the things required for the puja.’
The priest said, ‘How do you talk so ignorantly? Have you gone mad? How will you touch thakurji?’
Till now Sukhiya had never had the opportunity to come to thakurji’s door. Surprised she said, ‘Sir! He is lord of the world. Even the sinners get redemption after visiting him. Will he get contaminated if I touch him?’
‘Aren’t you a chamarin?’
‘So hasn’t God created Chamars? Is there some other God for Chamars? I have kept a vow for this child, Sir!’
The devotee who had spoken earlier and was done with the prayers remarked angrily, ‘Give the witch a good thrashing. She has come to destroy our faith. Throw away her puja tray. The world is already on fire. If the tanners also start worshipping thakurji will the earth remain as it is or go into the abyss?’
Another devotee said, ‘Now poor thakurji will have to eat from a tanner’s hand. Now we are really approaching doomsday.’
It was cold. Sukhiya stood shivering as the contractors of religion were debating on the times. The child clung to his mother’s chest for warmth but Sukhiya showed no sign of budging from there. It seemed as if both her feet had grown roots. Every now and then a deep desire to fall at thakurji’s feet would arise in her heart. Is he only their thakurji? Doesn’t he have any relationship with the poor like us? Who are these people to stop me? But she feared that these people would really throw away her puja tray, and then what would she do? So she repressed her emotions. Suddenly an idea struck her. She went and hid herself in the darkness in the shadow of a tree and waited for the devotees to depart.
4
After the aarti and prayers, the devotees read out the Bhagwat for a long time. On the other side the priest lit the fire and started cooking. He kept on saying ‘hmm, hmm’ while sitting in front of the fire, and from time to time he would make a suggestion. The reading went on till ten o’clock—Sukhiya was keeping an eye from beneath the tree.
At last the devotees started departing for their homes one by one. The priest was left alone. Sukhiya went and stood in front of the temple veranda. The priest was busy listening to melodious tunes while waiting eagerly for his food. The sound of light footsteps made the priest raise his head. He saw Sukhiya standing there. Irritated, he said, ‘Why are you still standing here?’ Placing the tray on the floor, Sukhiya pleaded most abjectly, ‘Maharajji, I am very unfortunate. This child is the sole reason for my life. Have pity on me, he hasn’t raised his head for three days. You will be highly blessed, Maharajji.’
Sukhiya started sobbing. The priest was kind-hearted. But how could he commit the grave sin of allowing a chamarin to touch thakurji. Who knew what punishment thakurji would give him for this! After all, he too had children. What if thakurji got angry and destroyed the entire village? He said, ‘Go home and chant God’s name, your child will recover. I am giving you basil leaves. Apply charnamrita on his eyes. God willing, everything will be all right.’
Sukhiya pleaded, ‘Won’t you let me fall at thakurji’s feet, Maharajji? I am bereaved. I have borrowed money and brought the items needed for the puja. I had a dream yesterday in which I was asked to go and worship thakurji so my child can recover. I have money, take it from me and allow me for a moment to fall at thakurji’s feet.’
This idea made the priest’s faith dwindle a bit, but being illiterate, he still had God’s fear in his heart. Gathering his wits he said, ‘O mad woman! Does thakurji see the devotion in the heart of the devotees or who is falling at his feet? Haven’t you heard the proverb—“If the mind is pure, then Ganga is close at hand.” If one does not have devotion in the heart, no matter how many times one falls at his feet, it doesn’t make any difference. I have an amulet, it is expensive but I will give it to you for only a rupee. Tie this around the child’s neck, that’s it. He will start playing from tomorrow.’
‘So you will not let me worship thakurji?’
‘This much worship is enough for you, which has never happened before. Suppose I perform the puja and some calamity falls on the village? Why don’t you think about that? Take this prayer with you. God willing, the child will get relief from his pain tonight. Somebody has cast a spell on him. And little wonder, he is very lively and draws people’s attention.’
‘My life has been caught in a whirlpool since the day he fell ill.’
‘He is a very talented boy, may God keep him alive. He will take away all your pain and suffering. He used to come here a lot to play. For the past two three days I have not been seeing him.’
‘So how do I tie the amulet, Maharaj?’
‘I am tying it in cloth and giving it to you, just tie it around his neck. At this hour where will you go looking for new cloth?’
Sukhiya had received two rupees for her silver bangles. One was already spent. She gave the second to the priest and taking the amulet returned home, consoling her heart.
5
The moment she reached home Sukhiya tied the amulet around the child’s neck. But as the night grew, the child’s fever increased. By three o’clock his hands and feet started getting cold. Worried, she started thinking, Oh! I was so stupid and selfish for not having fallen at thakurji’s feet and returning home. If I had entered the temple and fallen at God’s feet, what could anyone have done? They would have pushed me out of the temple—only that would have happened. Maybe they would have beaten me but my mission would have been accomplished. If I could have washed the feet of thakurji with my tears and placed the boy at his feet, wouldn’t he have taken mercy on me? He is a merciful God, fulfils the wishes of orphans, wouldn’t he have mercy on me? Sukhiya’s heart grew restless. She must not delay. She would definitely go and fall at thakurji’s feet and cry. The helpless woman’s scared heart could see no other way. If the temple gates were closed she would break the lock. Has thakurji been sold to someone that he needs to be locked?
It was three o’clock at night. Sukhiya wrapped the child in a blanket and took him in her arms, and holding the tray in one hand walked towards the temple. The moment she stepped out of the house, the wave of chilly winds made her chest shiver. Her feet were growing numb from the cold. On top of that it was dark all around. The distance was no less than two furlongs. The path winded through the trees. At some distance, on the left, there was a pond. There was a bamboo hut nearby which was owned by a washerman who had died, and now it was a den for witches. On the left, there were lush green fields. There was silence all around, the darkness was gasping. Occasionally, jackals would howl, making a terrifying sound. Oh! Even if someone had offered her lakhs of rupees she wouldn’t have come to this place. But motherly affection had overtaken all the fear of danger. ‘O God! You are my sole hope.’ Chanting this she walked towards the temple.
When she reached the temple door, she tried to figure out the lock, but it was chained shut. The priest was sleeping in the room adjacent to the veranda. There was darkness everywhere. Sukhiya picked up a brick beneath the platform and started hitting the lock hard. Her hands were filled with a strange power. After two or three attempts both the lock and the brick broke and fell on the floor. She was about to open the door and enter when the priest woke up, opened the door, came out and started shouting, ‘Thief! Thief!’ and then ran towards the village. In the winter, people woke up before dawn. When they heard the commotion many men came out from here and there with lanterns and asked, ‘Where’s the thief? Which way did he go?’
The priest said, ‘The temple door is open. I heard some commotion.’
All of a sudden
Sukhiya came out of the veranda to the platform and said, ‘There is no thief, it’s me, I had come to worship thakurji. I haven’t yet entered and you people have already raised a ruckus.’
The priest howled, ‘What a calamity! Sukhiya has entered the temple and rendered thakurji impure!’
As expected, many agitated men leapt at Sukhiya and started kicking and boxing her. Sukhiya was holding the child with one hand and protecting him with the other. Suddenly a strong Thakur pushed her hard and the child fell from her hands but he neither cried nor said anything. The child wasn’t breathing and Sukhiya had fallen on the ground. When she gathered herself and picked up the child, her eyes fell on his face. It appeared as if it was a reflection in the water. She let out a shriek. She touched the forehead of her child and saw that his entire body was cold. She drew a long breath and stood up. There were no tears in her eyes, her face was blazing with anger, sparks rained from her eyes, both her hands were clenched into fists. She clenched her teeth and said, ‘Sinners, why are you standing away after taking my child’s life? Why don’t you kill me too? On my touch thakurji will become untouchable. On coming into contact with a touchstone, iron turns to gold; the touchstone doesn’t turn into iron. Didn’t thakurji become impure while making me? So, I will never touch thakurji now. Keep him locked safe, set up guards. Oh! You merciless people! You are so hard-hearted! In spite of having children you didn’t have mercy on this unfortunate mother; on top of it, you have become the contractors of religion. All of you are murderers! The perfect murderers! Don’t be afraid. I won’t go to the police station; my justice will be done by God. Now I will plead in His court.’
Nobody uttered a word, nobody stirred. All of them stood with their heads bowed low, like statues made of stone.
The entire village gathered at the scene. Sukhiya looked at the child once again, and a cry escaped her mouth, ‘Oh! My darling!’ Then she fainted and fell on the ground, and her soul left her body. The mother had sacrificed her life for the child.
