by Premchand
Suddenly, the door opened and the little girl came in. The oxen bent their heads and began to lick her hand. Their tails stood erect. The girl patted their forehead and said, ‘I am going to untie you. Run away or else these people will kill you. I heard them talking at home; they are planning to drive a rope through your nose to tame you.’
She untied their ropes, but the two stood unmoving.
Moti asked in his mute language, ‘Why aren’t we leaving?’
Hirasaid, ‘If we escape, they won’t spare this poor orphan. They will suspect her.’
Suddenly, the girl cried loudly, ‘Uncle’s oxen are running away! Father! Father! Come quickly!’
Gaya ran out of the house to see what was happening. Hira and Moti sped off. Gaya ran after them. They ran faster. Gaya raised a shout. He gathered some people from the village to help him chase the fleeing animals. The two friends decided to make the most of this opportunity; they ran like they had never run before. They didn’t know where they were going. This wasn’t the way they had come. They passed unknown villages till they stopped beside a field to take stock of their situation.
Hira said, ‘It looks like we have lost our way.’
‘Why did you have to run like that? We should have just knocked him off there and then.’
‘If we had knocked him off, what would people have said? He can do wrong things if he wishes; but why should we?’
Hunger was making them restless. The field was full of tender green peas. They began to graze. Every now and then, they would raise their heads and listen for sounds of approaching footsteps.
When they had eaten their fill, a sense of freedom dawned on them and they began to jump around with joy. They bellowed loudly like oxen do, then locked their horns and began to push each other backwards playfully. Moti pushed Hira several steps back till he fell over into a ditch. Then Hira too became angry. He pulled himself out of the ditch and began to push Moti. Moti sensed that the game was no longer a game, so he abandoned it.
III
Suddenly, they saw a snorting bull rushing towards them. The two friends were taken by surprise. The bull was huge, almost the size of an elephant—and clearly it wanted to fight with them. They knew they would lose but what could they do? It was rushing towards them, bent on knocking them down.
Moti said in his mute language, ‘What terrible luck! Do you think we will get away alive from this? Think of a way out quickly!’
Hira said worriedly, ‘Look at him—he’s swollen with pride. He won’t listen to the voice of reason.’
‘Shall we run away?’
‘Cowards run away.’
‘You are welcome to die here; I am going to run.’
‘And if he chases you?’
‘Then think of a way out.’
‘The only way out is that the two of us should attack him together. I shall attack from the front; you push from behind. He will run away after this two-sided attack. If he comes towards me, you jab him in the stomach with your horns. I know it will be a tough fight, but what else can we do?’
The two friends ran together in the face of danger. The bull had no experience of fighting a collective force. He knew how to fight one enemy at a time. As he ran towards Hira, Moti attacked from the rear. When the bull turned towards him, Hira attacked. The bull wanted to defeat them one at a time but they didn’t give him a chance. The bull leapt towards Hira, determined to kill him, when Moti dashed from another side to gore him in the stomach. Enraged, it turned around to find Hira ready to attack once again. Till, finally, the poor bull ran away with the two friends giving chase. The oxen decided to leave him alone only when he fell down. Drunk on a sense of victory, they walked away, leaving the bull lying on the ground.
Moti spoke in his sign language, ‘I wanted to kill that creature.’
Hira spoke pityingly, ‘We ought not to use our horns on a fallen enemy.’
‘Rubbish! I say we should hit the fallen enemy so hard that he may never rise again.’
‘Think of a way of returning home instead.’
‘Let’s eat something; then, we will think.’
A field of green peas lay ahead. Moti entered it. Hira kept telling him not to go there but he wouldn’t listen. He had barely eaten two mouthfuls when men carrying sticks pounced on them. Hira had been standing at the edge of the field, so he could run away, but Moti was standing inside the freshly watered field. His hooves dug into the wet earth and he couldn’t run. He was caught. Hira saw his friend was in trouble so he turned back thinking, ‘If we have to get caught, let’s get caught together.’ The two friends were captured. The next morning both were put in a cattle pound.
IV
For the first time in their entire lives, the two friends spent a whole day without getting even a straw of hay to eat. They could not understand what sort of man their new master was. Even Gaya was better! There were several buffaloes in the pound, as well as goats, horses and donkeys. But none had any fodder placed before them. They lay like corpses on the ground. Some had become so weak that they could barely stand up. All day long, the two friends looked unblinkingly towards the door of the pound, but no one came to give them anything to eat. Driven by hunger, they began to lick the mud-plastered wall, but its saltiness could give them no satisfaction.
When they were not given any fodder till late at night, the fire of rebellion rose in Hira’s heart.
He said to Moti, ‘I can’t tolerate this any more.’
Moti answered with his head bent low, ‘I feel as though I am going to die.’
‘Don’t give up so easily. We should think of a way of running away from this place. Let’s break the wall down.’
‘I don’t have the strength to do that.’
‘Is this all the strength you have? You who have always been such a show-off?’
‘Yes, all my pride is gone.’
The pound had mud walls. Hira was strong. He dug his sharp, pointed horns in the mud wall till one big chunk of dried mud fell down. Encouraged, he ran towards the wall, making repeated attacks. With every attack, more mud fell off.
At that very moment, a guard holding a lantern came to take the attendance of all the animals in the pound. He saw the damage done by Hira and beat him several times with a stick and tied him up with a stout rope.
Moti spoke, from his prone position, ‘What did you get from that display of strength? Nothing but beatings!’
‘At least I tried.’
‘What’s the point of trying when it gets you tied up more securely?’
‘I’ll keep on trying, no matter how strongly they keep on tying me.’
‘You will end up losing your life.’
‘Never mind. We shall die either way. Just imagine—if we had pulled the wall down, how many lives we could have saved! So many of our brothers are tied here. No one seems to have any strength left in his body. If they go on like this, they will die in the next few days.’
‘Yes, that is true. Come on, then. Let me try my best too.’
Moti too dug his horns in the same spot on the wall. Some more mud fell. His courage grew. He began to dig his horns into the dried mud of the wall as though he was fighting an enemy. After about two hours of hard work, the top portion of the wall fell down. He pushed again with all his strength. This time, half the wall fell down.
When a big chunk of the wall fell, the half-dead animals began to show signs of life. The three horses were the first to run away. Then the goats sped off, followed by the buffaloes. But the donkeys kept standing.
Hira asked, ‘Why don’t the two of you run away like the others?’
One of the donkeys said, ‘What if we are caught again?’
‘So what? You have the chance to escape now, make the most of it.’
‘No, we are scared; we’ll stay here.’
It was past midnight. The donkeys stood in deep thought, wondering whether to run or not and Moti was busy trying to untie his friend’s rope. When Moti finally grew tired, Hir
a said, ‘You go away, leave me here. Perhaps we shall meet again somewhere.’
Moti said with tears in his eyes, ‘Hira, do you think I am so selfish? We have been friends for so long. Now that you are in trouble, do you think I will leave you alone?’
Hira said, ‘They will beat us black and blue. They will know this is your handiwork.’
Moti spoke with pride, ‘I don’t care if I am beaten for the same crime for which they have tied you up with ropes. At least we were able to save the lives of eight or ten living things. At least we will get their blessings.’
And so saying, Moti shooed the two reluctant donkeys out of the pound, nudging them out with his horns. Then he went and lay down beside his friend.
There is no need to describe the commotion that took place among the manager of the pound, the watchmen and other workers. It should be enough to say that Moti was beaten up brutally and he too was tied with a thick rope.
V
The two friends remained tied up for a week. No one gave them one grain of feed or even a straw of hay. Though, once a day, water was given to them. That was all they had. They grew so weak that they could barely stand up. Their bones began to show through their skin.
One day, someone began to beat a small drum in front of the pound. By the afternoon, fifty or sixty people had gathered. The two friends were taken out and displayed. People would walk up, take one look at them and walk away in disgust. Who would want to buy such half-dead oxen?
Suddenly, a bearded man with bloodshot eyes and a cruel-looking face came up to inspect them. Digging his fingers in their haunches, he began to speak to the pound’s manager. One look at the man’s face and the two friends instantly knew who he was. They began to tremble with fear. Who was he and why he was poking his fingers in their body? They had no doubts about the answer. They looked at each other with terror-filled eyes and bent their heads.
Hira said, ‘If only we hadn’t run away from Gaya’s home! Now no one can save us.’
Moti spoke in the tone of a disbeliever, ‘They say that god has mercy for everyone. Why does He not show us His mercy?’
‘Because for Him, our living or dying makes no difference. Never mind. Think of it like this—at least we shall live with Him for some time. One day god had saved us in the guise of that little girl. He might do the same again.’
‘This man will slit our throats with his knife. You wait and see!’
‘Then why worry? Flesh, skin, bones, horns—everything will be put to some use or the other.’
On being auctioned off, the two friends went away with the bearded man. Every part of their body trembled with fear. They could barely lift their legs, but they were so scared that they stumbled on as fast as they could. The moment they slackened their pace, the man would beat them hard with his stick.
On their way, they came across a herd of cattle grazing in a field. They looked happy and healthy. Some sat about grazing, others ran and jumped and played games with each other. They led such happy lives, yet they were so selfish. They didn’t care that two of their brothers were so unhappy in the hands of a butcher.
Suddenly, the two felt as though the road they were travelling on seemed familiar. Yes, this was the path Gaya had taken them along. These were the same fields, orchards and villages. Their steps grew faster with every passing minute. All traces of weakness and tiredness left their bodies. And lo and behold, there lay their own grazing ground at the outskirts of their village. And this was the well where they used to come.
Moti said, ‘Our home is close by.’
Hira answered, ‘It is god’s grace.’
‘I shall run away to my home.’
‘Do you think he will let us?’
‘I’ll throw him down.’
‘No, no. Let’s run till our barn; we shall go no further from there.’
Like two young calves, they ran at breakneck speed. They reached the stall at their barn and came to a standstill. The bearded man too came running after them.
Jhuri was sitting at his doorstep enjoying the winter sun. He ran towards the oxen the moment he spotted them and hugged each one by one. Tears of happiness began to stream down the eyes of the two friends. One began to lick Jhuri’s hand.
The bearded man came running and grasped the trailing ropes of the oxen.
Jhuri said, ‘They are my oxen.’
‘How can they be yours? I have just bought them in an auction from the cattle pound.’
‘I think you have stolen them. Go away quietly. They are my oxen. They can be sold only when I sell them. Who has the right to auction my oxen?’
‘I shall make a report against you to the police.’
‘They are my oxen. The proof is that they are standing at my door.’
The bearded man began to angrily pull at the ropes of the two oxen. Moti turned on him with his horns. The bearded man stepped back. Moti again tried to gore him. This time the bearded man ran. Moti ran after him. They reached the village outskirts. Moti stopped and saw that the bearded man was standing at a distance making threats, shouting abuses and throwing stones at him. But Moti stood like a victorious soldier blocking his way. The people from the village stood about watching this drama and laughing. Finally, the bearded man accepted defeat and went away. Moti returned home, strutting with pride.
Hira said, ‘I was scared that you might kill him in your anger.’
‘If he had caught me, I wouldn’t have let go without killing him.’
‘He will never come here again.’
‘I will teach him a lesson if he does! He dare not touch us.’
‘What if he gets us shot?’
‘I’ll die but I won’t be of any use to him.’
‘No one cares for us.’
‘That is because we are so simple.’
Within a matter of minutes, their troughs were filled with fresh, juicy green fodder, oil cakes and grain. The two friends began to eat. Jhuri stood close by, patting them and scores of boys gathered all around to watch. The entire village seemed pleased to have them back.
And then the mistress came and kissed each one on his forehead.
5
A Quarter and One Ser of Wheat
In a village somewhere, there lived a farmer named Shankar. He was a poor man who led a simple life and did not meddle in other people’s affairs. Since he himself knew no clever tricks, he never worried about being fooled by others. He ate well when he had enough food in the house. When he didn’t, he lived on parched gram. When there was no gram either, he drank water, thanked Lord Rama and went to sleep. But when a guest happened to come by, he had to make an exception. And when a sadhu or holy man happened to show up at his door, it was a different matter. He could go to sleep hungry himself, but how could he make a sadhu sleep on an empty stomach, for a sadhu was a true follower of god!
One evening a sadhu appeared at Shankar’s doorstep. His face glowed with a divine light. He was dressed in yellow clothes. His hair was long and matted. In his hand he carried a brass pot for water, on his feet he wore wooden clogs, and spectacles on his eyes. All in all, he looked like the sort of person who showed as keen an interest in the prayers of the rich and travelling to pilgrim spots in aeroplanes as he did in eating good food.
Shankar only had ground barley at home. How could he give that to a sadhu? In ancient times, barley may have been considered good, but in the present age, barley is believed to be hard to digest for people of a better class. Poor Shankar was in a dilemma: What was he to give the holy man to eat? Finally, he decided he must borrow some wheat flour from somewhere. But he could find no one who had any wheat flour. After all, only simple human beings lived in the village, so how could food fit for the gods be found here? However, by great good fortune, the village priest had some wheat. Shankar borrowed a quarter and one ser, a bare kilo of wheat, took it home and asked his wife to grind it into flour. The sadhu mahatma ate well, slept well, gave his blessings and left early next morning.
&nb
sp; Twice a year, the priest took a share of the harvest. That year, Shankar decided that returning one and a quarter ser of wheat was pointless, so instead of the usual five ser he gave the priest, he would give a little extra and the account would be settled. Shankar figured the priest would know why the extra amount was being given and the matter would be over. In the month of Chait, when the priest showed up to take his share of the harvest, Shankar gave him double the usual amount and considered himself free of the burden of debt. He made no mention of it and neither did the priest. How was poor Shankar to know that he would have to take another birth to repay the debt of that one and a quarter ser of wheat!
II
Seven years passed. The priest became a moneylender, and from a farmer Shankar became a labourer. His younger brother, Mangal, demanded his share of the property and became independent. Together, the brothers had been farmers, but once they divided their lands they ended up with nothing and had to become labourers. Shankar tried his best to avoid a division in the family but the situation was beyond his control. The day separate kitchens were set up in his home, he cried like a baby. Brothers became enemies. All ties were broken. For several days he could not eat. He would work hard in the summer sun all day long. At night he would cover his face and go to sleep. He worked so hard and gave such extreme hardships to his body that he fell ill. For months afterwards he could not get up from his bed. How was he to live and on what? Between them, the brothers had five bighas of land. Now there was just two and a half bighas and one bullock. What use was that? Things became so bad that he was reduced to being a farmer in name only; it was not farming that earned him his livelihood but working as a hired hand for whoever was ready to pay him his wages.
One day, as Shankar was returning home, the priest stopped him, saying, ‘Come over tomorrow and settle your accounts. You have an outstanding amount of five and a half mann of wheat against you and you are showing no signs of paying it back. You seem to have forgotten all about it!’
