Stories on the Village

by Premchand

  2

  The congregational prayer comes to an end. People are giving alms to the beggars who have gathered there in thousands. The villagers make rounds of the shops selling sweets and toys. Even the elderly are not immune to the childlike amusements. Just look at the giant wheel which lifts one to the sky for one paisa, and then brings them down to the earth. There is a merry-go-round—wooden horses, camels and elephants are suspended from iron rods. One can enjoy twenty-five rounds for one paisa.

  Mahmood and Mohsin sit on the giant wheel, Noori and Sami on horses. Their parents, too, climb on to the merry-go-round with the same enthusiasm. Hamid is standing at some distance. He has just three paise in his pocket. He cannot spend one-third of his treasure for the mere fun of getting on a swing. Mohsin’s father asks him again and again to get on the swing but he doesn’t. The elderly say that Hamid is too mature for his age. He doesn’t like to accept favours from anyone. Poverty has made him wise beyond his years.

  All get down from the swing. They start buying toys. There are toys of different shapes and sizes: soldier and milkmaid, king, queen and lawyer, washerwoman and water-carrier, all huddled together. The washer-woman is sitting close to the king and the queen while the water carrier nestles close to the lawyer. How lovely they are! It seems as though they’ll start speaking any moment. Mahmood is going crazy over the soldier dressed in khaki and a red turban, wielding his gun, looking as though he’s just returning from a parade. Mohsin falls for the water-carrier, with his back bent down and holding the water skin with one hand. He’s holding the rope in the other hand, looking very happy. He’s probably singing a song while pouring the water. Noori chooses the lawyer, who has an expression of wisdom on his face and who is wearing a black gown with a white achkan under it. He has a pocket watch tied to a gold chain and carries a law book in one hand. It seems as though he’s just returning from court after arguing a case. Hamid has just three paise in all. If he buys a toy for two paise, he’ll be left with almost nothing. Well, what good are the toys? Once they slip from one’s hand they break into pieces. If a few drops of water fall on them, they become discoloured. What’s the use of buying such toys?

  Mohsin says, ‘My water-carrier will bring water every morning and evening.’

  Mahmood asserts, ‘My soldier will keep guard over the house. If a thief comes he’ll shoot him instantly.’

  Noori ventures, ‘And my lawyer will fight cases in court and bring money every day.’

  Hamid decries the toys. They are, after all, made of clay and will shatter to pieces once they fall. All the same, he looks at them longingly and wishes to hold them in his hands for a minute.

  Then they all go to a shop where household goods are spread out in full view of the customers: balls, whistles, bugles, rubber toys and a thousand other things. Someone buys a whistle, Mahmood purchases a ball, Noori a plastic figurine that makes a creaking sound and Sami a flute on which he’ll play many melodies. Hamid is standing there, looking wistfully at everyone. When one of his friends buys something, he leaps to take it in his hand and see it closely. But boys are not normally so indulgent, particularly when their attachment to objects is so fresh. Hamid’s heart fills with despair.

  After the toys, they turn to the sweets. If one is buying reodi, another is buying gulab jamun, and still someone else, sohan halwa. They gorge on them with great relish. Hamid stays on the periphery. The wretched fellow has at least three paise in his hand. Why doesn’t he buy something to eat? He’s only looking at others with greedy eyes.

  Mohsin says, ‘Come and take this reodi. It’s simply delicious!’

  Hamid can guess that Mohsin is up to some mischief. He is not at all generous by temperament. Still, he goes up to him. Mohsin takes out two to three pieces of reodi from the leaf plate and advances towards Hamid. But just as Hamid stretches out his hand to grab them, Mohsin pulls back his hand and pops the reodis into his own mouth. Mahmood, Noori and Sami clap their hands and laugh heartily. Hamid is sorely embarrassed.

  Mohsin tempts him again. ‘All right. This time I’ll certainly give you some . . . By God, Hamid! Come and take it.’

  ‘Keep it to yourself. Don’t I have money of my own?’ says Hamid.

  ‘You’ve just three paise in all. What can you buy with that?’ Sami asks.

  Mahmood says, ‘Don’t pay attention to him. Come to me, Hamid. Take this gulab jamun.’

  Hamid replies, ‘Sweets are no good. A lot of things are written against them in books.’

  Mohsin comments, ‘In your heart you must be wanting to eat! Why don’t you take out your money?’

  ‘I understand his trick,’ says Mahmood. ‘When we’ve spent all our money, then he’ll buy sweets and tempt us.’

  Beyond the sweet-sellers are the ironsmiths, who have spread their wares in their shops. And beyond them are shops selling gilded and artificial jewellery. There’s nothing there to excite the boys. Hamid stops for a moment before the ironware. There are many tongs on display that draw him. He remembers that his grandmother doesn’t have tongs. When she pulls rotis from the oven her hands often get scalded. How happy will she be if he buys a pair of tongs for her! Her fingers won’t burn again. It’ll be something really helpful. The toys are of no use, just a waste of money. Their pleasure is short-lived. No one looks at them after some time. They will break by the time they reach home, or the children who weren’t able to come to the idgah will grab them and break them after a while. Tongs have many uses: you can hold rotis in the oven, you can grab embers from the oven to offer to someone. Grandmother doesn’t have the time to go to the market or even the money to buy them. She burns her hands every day. His friends have moved ahead. They are drinking squash.

  How greedy they are! They’ve bought so many sweets and didn’t offer me any. On top of it, they ask me to play with them and clean their slates. Now, if Mister Mohsin asks me to do something, I’ll put him in his place. Let them eat sweets. They’ll have blisters and boils all over their mouths. They’ll also get addicted to sweets, and then steal money from others and will get beaten.

  He imagines how Grandmother will run to take the tongs from his hands, exclaiming, ‘My darling has brought tongs for me!’ She’ll give him a thousand blessings. She’ll show them to the neighbours, and the entire village will talk about it. Who will bless these fellows for buying toys? When elderly people bless someone, God listens and their prayers are immediately granted. I don’t have enough money. That is why Mohsin and Mahmood show off. I’ll also show off. Let them play with toys, let them eat sweets. Granted, I’m poor, but I don’t beg from anyone. Abba will return some day. Then I’ll ask them how many toys they want from me. I’ll offer a job to everyone and show them how one treats one’s friends. To all the poor boys I’ll give one shirt each, and books. Just imagine—they bought one paisa worth of reodi and kept taunting me. They’ll laugh when they see the tongs. Let them. They are all halfwits!

  He asks the shopkeeper, ‘These tongs are for sale?’

  The shopkeeper looks at him and finding no elderly person accompanying him, says, ‘This is of no use to you.’

  ‘Are they for sale or not?’

  ‘Of course, they are. Why should I put them out if they weren’t.’

  ‘Then why don’t you tell me the price?’

  ‘One pair will cost you six paise.’

  Hamid’s heart sinks. He gathers courage and says, ‘Will you give it for three paise?’ He leaves the spot immediately, thinking that the shopkeeper will berate him. But the shopkeeper doesn’t do anything of the kind. Instead, he hands over the tongs and accepts the money.

  Hamid holds the tongs against his shoulder, as though they were a gun, and struts up to his friends.

  Mohsin sniggers at him. ‘Look, he’s bought a pair of tongs! Fool, what on earth are they for?’

  Hamid throws down his tongs and says, ‘Just throw your water carrier on the ground and see! All his ribs will be smashed.’

  ‘What kind of toy is
it?’ asks Mahmood incredulously.

  ‘And why not? Hang it from your shoulder and it look like a gun, hold it in your hand and it becomes the tongs of the mendicants. If I want I can catch you by the nose with them. If I strike with them, I can destroy all your toys. Your toys cannot be a match for its strength. This is a courageous lion, this pair of mine,’ says Hamid.

  Sami is greatly impressed by this and asks, ‘Would you like to exchange it for my toy drum? I’ve bought it for two annas.’

  Hamid looks sneeringly at the toy drum and says, ‘My tongs can burst the belly of your drum. It’s just a layer of skin that makes the sound. A drop of water falls on it and it’s all over. My pair of tongs will remain steadfast in the face of fire, water, thunder or storm.’

  The fairground has been left far behind. It is close to ten o’clock now. They are in a hurry to reach home. No one can buy tongs now. In any case, they have spent all their money. Hamid has proved to be the cleverest of all!

  Now the boys split into two groups. Mahmood, Mohsin and Noori are on one side, and Hamid is alone on the other. Sami is a fence-sitter. He’ll side with the winning party. A heated debate ensues. Hamid’s tongue is cutting through the arguments of his opponents. The triumvirate on the other side is pushed into a corner. If the trio has the strength of numbers with them, Hamid has truth and morality on his side. On one side are clay, plastic and wooden objects, on the other, iron, alone and unyielding.

  ‘If a lion roars, the water-carrier will run for cover, the soldier will drop his gun and take to his heels, and the lawyer will forget about his legal knowledge, hide his face in his cloak and lie on the ground. But my strong pair of tongs, this Rustum-i-Hind, will leap up and ride on the shoulder of the lion and gouge out its eyes.’

  ‘But it cannot fetch water,’ says Mohsin, offering the strongest counter-argument he can think of.

  Hamid straightens the tongs and says, ‘Just one command from the tongs and your water carrier will run to draw water and sprinkle it on the door. Then you can fill your pots and jars as much as you want.’

  Mohsin is rendered speechless, but Noori comes to his rescue, saying, ‘But if they are caught creating mischief, then they’ll be presented in court, bound in chains. Then you’ll seek the help of our lawyer, won’t you? Tell us.’

  Hamid has no ready argument against this. To buy time, he asks a counter question. ‘Who can dare arrest him?’

  ‘This soldier, with his gun,’ says Mahmood.

  Hamid sneers in contempt. ‘This fellow will arrest the Rustum-i-Hind? What a joke! Come on, let them have a bout. He’ll freeze to death at the mere sight of the tongs. How can he arrest him?’

  Mohsin takes a breath and attempts a different tack. ‘Your pair of tongs will have its mouth burnt in fire every day.’

  ‘Only the brave jump into the fire,’ Hamid retorts instantly. ‘Your lawyer, soldier and water carrier are all cowards. They’ll run to their homes for shelter. Only Rustum has the courage to jump into the fire.’

  Noori attacks with renewed energy. ‘The lawyer will sit smartly on a chair with a table in front, while the tongs will lie on the ground in the kitchen.’ This argument enlivens others too. Sami pipes in, ‘Sure enough. The tongs will lie there in the kitchen.’ Hamid, shorn of a ready rejoinder, takes recourse to bluster. ‘My tongs won’t stay in the kitchen. If the lawyer sits on a chair, they’ll throw him down and stuff all his laws down his throat.’

  Hamid’s reply lacks conviction. However, though the remark he made is a senseless one, it captures everyone’s imagination, so that the trio on the opposite side keep staring at each other’s faces. Hamid wins the battle hands down. The three of them still have their ball, whistle and drum, but what’s the worth of crackers before a machine gun? The tongs are indeed Rustum-i Hind. No one can dispute that any more.

  The victor receives compliments and honour from the vanquished. Hamid is no exception. The others have spent three annas each and bought things that are of no use. Hamid has spent just three paise and yet he has become the centre of attention. The toys will break and disappear in a matter of days, but Hamid’s tongs will endure. Discussions begin on the terms of the truce.

  Mohsin says, ‘Let me take a look at your tongs. You can see my lawyer in the meantime.’ Hamid has no objections to this. He’s a generous victor. The tongs are handed to Mohsin, Mahmood, Noori and Sami. Hamid also runs his hands over all the toys. What beautiful toys they are! It seems as though they’ll start speaking in a moment. But who will bless them for the toys they’ve bought? Who’ll be happy seeing them? Who’ll be as happy as his grandma when she sees the tongs? He does not regret his decision. Moreover, his tongs are now the Rustum-i-Hind, the king of all toys. On the way, Mahmood buys cucumbers for one paisa, which he shares with Hamid, though Hamid keeps saying ‘no’. Mohsin and Sami buy blackberries worth one paisa each, which they share with Hamid. All this is due to the blessing of the tongs!

  3

  The village gets animated at eleven. People have returned from the fairground. Mohsin’s younger sister leaps to grab the water carrier from her brother’s hands. As she jumps in excitement, the water carrier falls, crashing to the ground. The brother and sister come to blows over this and bawl to their hearts’ content. Their mother hears the ruckus, appears on the scene and serves them two tight slaps each. Mr Noori’s lawyer meets a fate worse than this. The lawyer cannot sit on the ground or a niche on the wall. It doesn’t befit his status. So, two pegs are hammered into the wall. An old wooden plank, covered by a red rag like a carpet, is placed over them. The lawyer takes his seat on the throne in style, to conduct his legal arguments. Noori begins fanning him with a hand fan. One doesn’t know whether it is the draught from the fan or a knock from it that sends the lawyer from his elevated position down to the mortal earth, turning him to tiny pieces. Loud lamentations arise. The last rites of the lawyer are performed according to Parsi ritual. His body is abandoned in the burial ground to be fed on by the crows.

  That leaves Mahmood’s soldier, who is a venerable figure of awe. He cannot suffer the ignominy of walking on his own feet. Mahmood grabs his goat’s young one and makes the soldier sit on it. Mahmood’s sister holds the soldier with one hand while he grabs the goat by the ear and takes her around the doorstep. His two younger brothers follow him with their lisping chorus, ‘Keep awake, O sleeping folks!’ No one knows exactly what happens next, but Mr Soldier soon falls down from his perch, with his gun, right there on the ground. The accident takes away one of his legs, but never mind. Mahmood is a clever doctor, and Dr Nigam and Dr Bhatia can very well act as his apprentices. He can join the leg in an instant, for which he just needs the milky fluid from the gular tree. The fluid is brought and the leg is repaired. But the moment the soldier stands, the foot gives way. The surgical operation proves futile. Then Mahmood breaks the soldier’s other foot. Now he can sit comfortably. With a single foot, he could neither sit nor walk. Now he will sit at one place and prey on his victims from behind a screen.

  As for Hamid, Amina runs when she hears his voice. She takes him in her lap and begins to cuddle him. She’s startled by the sight of the tongs in his hand.

  ‘Son, where did you get these tongs from?’

  ‘I’ve bought them for three paise.’

  Amina beats her breast. ‘What a stupid boy! It’s noon, and he hasn’t eaten or drunk anything. And what does he bring back—a pair of tongs! Didn’t you find any other object in the entire fairground?’

  Hamid replies like a guilty person, ‘You burn your fingers at the griddle every day, don’t you?’

  Amina’s anger turns to love instantly, a love that can’t be expressed in words. This love is mute, steeped in pain and longing. Such self-sacrifice, such total self-effacement in a boy of his age! What self-control the poor thing must have exercised to stifle his childlike desires! How tempted he must have felt seeing other boys buying toys and sweets! How could he possess such judgement? He remembered his old grandmother
in those moments! How deeply my darling feels for me! She is overwhelmed by a strange feeling that makes her think that through some divine intervention she has been made the empress of a realm, and she endows this realm on Hamid!

  Then a strange thing happens. The old woman Amina begins to weep uncontrollably, like a young girl. She lifts both her hands and sends up prayers and blessings for Hamid while large drops of tears stream down her face. Hamid cannot comprehend the secrets of these blessings. I wonder if my readers can.

  Translated from the Urdu by M. Asaduddin

  The Funeral Feast

  1

  Lying on his sickbed, Seth Ramnath cast a frustrated glance at his wife, Susheela, and said, ‘I’m very unfortunate, Sheela. You always had to bear hardships with me. When there was nothing in the house, you were toiling day and night over household duties and the children. Now, when things have gotten a little better and your days of peace are at hand, I’m leaving you thus . . . Until now I had hopes of surviving, but now all my hopes are shattered. Look here, Sheela, don’t cry! Everyone dies in the world, a couple of years sooner or later. Now the responsibility of the household is laid upon you. I have not left any money behind, but your life will sustain somehow, with whatever remains. Why is Raja weeping?’