Monday, August 13, 2018

Premchand's Moteramji Shastri Tetralogy in English translation - story 2


Premchand’s Moteram Tetralogy


Premchand wrote four stories in which a character named Moteramji Shastri, a brahmin school teacher, appears in different roles: as a quack Ayurvedic doctor, as a traditional school teacher, as a fake and hypocritical journalist, as a greedy, lascivious, hypocritical and gormandizing brahmin. Premchand uses satire and caricature to ridicule these and some other professions, social practices, rituals and superstitions.Here are the titles of the four stories:


1 मोटेरामजी शास्त्री Moteramji Shastri (Madhuri, January, 1928)


2. मोटेरामजी शास्त्री का नैराश्य Moteramji Shastri’s Heartbreak (Smalochak, March-April, 1928)


3. संपादक मोटेरामजी शास्त्री Editor Moteramji Shastri (Madhuri, August-September,1928)


4. पंडित मोटेराम की डायरी Pandit Moteram’s Diary (Jagran, July,1934)


(The text, dates of publication and names of magazines in which these stories were published for the first time have been obtained from 'Premchand: Kahani Rachnawali', collected and edited by Dr. Kamal Kishor Goyanka and published by Sahitya Akademi, New Delhi.2012) 


 

Here is the second of these stories.






Moteramji Shastri’s Heartbreak


1
Just as a barber is addressed as thakur, a chamar as chowdhry and a sweeper as jamadar, Ghasita , the  grocer was addressed as seth. Although Ghasita himself was illiterate, he was obsessed, like other illiterate fathers, with the idea of adorning his son with education. After great hard work of many months he had taught his son how to count up to hundred, but one needed a guru  to teach the alphabet. He had been postponing this idea for many months out of miserliness but today he had decided to have his son initiated into learning. He had already enquired about the auspicious day. He said to sethani, ‘The offering for initiation won’t be less than a rupee!’

The sethani retorted, ‘Why one rupee? Is it robbery? One rupee to teach a few letters! To which pandit would you go?’

‘My heart is fixed on Moteram. There are many pandits, but Moteram is special.’

‘Then why pay him a rupee? Feed him a bellyful of ladoos.’

‘Would he eat ladoos worth less than four rupees? It is much better to pay one rupee and be finished with him.’

So it was decided. The sethani gave the boy a bathe, dressed him, put gold bangles on his wrists, gold earrings in his ears, silver rings on his feet, and a black mark on his forehead for good luck. And sethji wore his kurta, wound the turban round his head and forced his feet into his shoes after softening them with water. When the boy saw his father wearing shoes he insisted on having a pair for himself. The expense of one rupee was already staring in his face and now this demand! Sethji lost his temper and slapped the boy and dragged him towards the guru’s residence.


2
Worship of gods never goes unrewarded. Then why would Pandit Moteramji’s prayers be not answered? His prayers could reach not only the gods but also their spouses. He was regularly in demand now for determining the auspicious time and day, now for preparing the year’s predictions, now for matching the horoscopes. Sometimes he was invited for recitation of goddess Durga’s devotionals. We cannot say whether or not panditji was a pleasure seeker. His heavy-built did not seem to support this tendency but his wife Sonadevi did not like such invitations and would on such occasions warn him not to cross any limits. Pandit was so sweet-tongued, so affable and knew so many mantras to please women that no pandit stood any chance before him. For these very qualities panditji had been appointed a teacher in a school on thirty rupees a month. 

But on becoming a teacher panditji faced a dilemma. He became reluctant to accept commonplace invitations. The moment he reached the school he would get all the news from the town: about persons to be initiated into learning, about shradhs, about marriages. Panditji consoled himself by sending his sons as his representatives. The teaching job and the prestige associated with it were proving to be very costly. That’s why sometimes he would speak to his wife with some irritation, ‘I’ll quit this job. Is it work or punishment? If I have to live on just bread and dal, I would quit this world quite soon. I am already losing weight.’

But Sonadevi would pacify him somehow. And poor Moteram had to be satisfied just by talking about the palatable dishes. He would rest content because here in the school he did not have to do any work. The boys in the senior classes taught the boys in the junior classes. Panditji had to teach just one boy in the senior most class and this student gave him the least trouble.

3
When Ghasita, carrying his son on his shoulders, reached the school, panditji was lying on his seat with his head reclining against a long cylindrical pillow, a few of his students kneading his plump body with their fists. One student was massaging the soles of his feet. Two were fanning him and one was oiling his head. Panditji was delivering a lecture on poetics: ‘Just as there are eight rasas in the palate and sweetness is the prinicipal rasa among these, there are nine rasas in poetry and shringar is the highest among them. Just as there are many varieties of foods displaying the sweetness rasa, in the same manner there are many varieties of heroines; and just as motichoor ladoos are the best among sweets, in the same way mughdha is the top most among heroines. And mughdha is my favourite.’

Just then Ghasita came in and lay flat on the ground in salutation before Panditji.

Panditji said, ‘My blessings. My blessings. Tell me seth, what brings you here? Is he the younger seth?’

‘Yes, maharaj. He’s your slave. I wish to have him initiated.’

‘Oh yes. Why not? There’s nothing greater than knowledge.’

“That’s why I have come to you, maharaj. Bless him so that he acquires some learning.’

‘You need the blessings of gurus. You will have to make an expense.’

‘I’m ready to spend, maharaj.’

‘Yes, yes, I know. Chintamani ji, take the trouble to come here. This is seth Ghasitamalji. His son is to be initiated into learning. On this propitious occasion he wants to honour the gurus.’

Chintamani exclaimed, ‘Oh, we’re grateful! You’re truly praiseworthy. It is because of such benevolent souls that the creation is in a steady state; otherwise the earth would have sunk to the underworld long ago. So sethji, how many brahmins would you like to feed?’

Moteram interrupted him, ‘Why do you put this question to sethji? Talk to me. A count of ten-plus-two would be felicitous.’

Chintamani said, Do you understand, sethji? Make arrangement to feed twelve mahatmas.’

Moteram said to Chintamani, ‘You make an estimate of the provisions needed. Sethji is a blessed son of goddess Lakshmi. About ten sers of amriti would be enough.’

Chintamani said, ‘Ten sers! I alone would...’

Moteram said, ‘Friend, don’t lie. All right, how much kalakand would be needed?’

Chintamani said, ‘You don’t let me speak.’

Moteram replied, ‘No-no. On this you can express your views freely,’

Chintamani said, ‘A maund of kalakand.’

Moteram said, laughing, ‘No-no. We should not overburden our yajman with such a weight of guruship. Let it be ten sers of kalakand.’

Chintamani retorted, ‘Then why do you ask me? You’re a strange person. Whenever we catch a prey you...’

Moteram said, ‘My friend, don’t get worked up. One needs a lot of experience to manage such difficult tasks. What quantity of motichoor ladoos would we need?’

Chintamani said, ‘I don’t know.’

Moteram said, ‘Don’t be angry, my dear friend. I swear I shall accept the quantity proposed by you.’

Chintamani said, ‘Then let it be one ser.’

Moteram said, ‘You’re a big fool, my friend. It does not become a gourmet like you to insult this sweet that even gods get to eat with difficulty. Let it be twenty sers.’

 Consulting in this manner Moteram prepared an estimate and gave it to sethji. In addition he also proposed a gift of one rupee each to the brahmins. Hearing this estimate, Ghasitaram’s head began to reel. For him even one rupee was too much. He said,’ I can’t afford this.’

Moteram tried to comfort him, ‘Don’t talk like that, you son of Goddess Lakshmi, don’t talk like that. God has given you everything. Your son is very lucky. He will bring fame to your family. So, all the people would reach by eight o’clock.’

Ghasite said, ‘Maharaj, I’m very ...’ 

“Yes, yes. It is something to be happy about. The place where the footsteps of brahmins and scholars fall becomes heaven-like.’

Ghasite said, ‘Maharaj, I’m unable to express myself. You have seen my shop. And these days the sales are down...’

‘Moteram assured him, ‘This propitious act would remove all your pain and poverty. Serving the brahmin is like planting a kalpavriksha, the wish-fulfilling tree. Make all the arrangements on time. We won’t be late.’


4
When at the appointed time they all moved towards Ghasite’s house to feast they were unable to contain their joy. They picked up five students from the school to complete the number twelve. It was decided that they would proceed to Ghasite’s house reciting Veda mantras. Shastriji had trained his students in this art so well that people who came to visit the school would become spellbound listening to the recitation. Then they would fall in love with the school. With this tactic Shastriji had won fame in the town. At this moment people were watching the march of students chanting the Veda mantras. One spectator said, ‘This procession is a display of Shastriji’s power.’

Another said, ‘Well said. With Shastriji joining, the school’s reputation has gone up.’

When they reached a turning Moteram said to Chintamani, ‘Just go and see if there is any light.’

Chintamani said, ‘I don’t see any light.’

Moteram said, ‘Why not! You can’t see anything. A gas lamp is burning. Don’t you hear someone talking?’

‘I don’t know. It seems there’s silence all around.’

‘Your pate! I can clearly hear the voices of people talking. See, we have reached. I feel like making a dash. I’m as restless as a long-separated hero feels the moment he approaches his beloved. But what is this? There’s silence all around. May be he is inside.’

‘Should I knock on the door? But the door is locked.’

Moteram asked the neighbouring shopkeeper, who replied, ‘He was at home till the evening. I can’t say about now. Try and see, he should be at home.’

Pandit Moterram knocked on the door with such force the whole house shook, but no one answered from within.

Algu said, ‘Should I break open the lock?’

Moteram stopped him, ‘No, no. He might have gone out to buy the provisions.’

Both the pandits sat down in front of the house. The students started strolling here and there. A whole hour passed like this. Chintamani said in irritation, ‘It seems the rogue has cheated us.’

Moteram said, ‘Yes, now it seems so to me also.’

Chintamani said angrily, ‘If I get hold of the scoundrel I shall catch him by the neck. You crook. Oh you Ghasite bania! Come out. Where are you hiding?’

At this the five students started shouting, calling Ghasite a scoundrel, a sinner, a chandal.

Algu said, 'The rogue’s face is painted black.’

Chintamani said, ‘May he be ruined altogether.’

Bhavani said, ‘If he dies, he‘ll be born as a mole.’

Algu said, ‘He’ll be a donkey. Will keep on braying.’

Moteram was sitting quietly. His head was bowed down out of anger, shame and anguish. At last he spoke quietly, ‘Now we should leave.’

Algu said, ‘ Should I set the house on fire?’

Bhavani said, ‘Shall we throw stones?’

Moteram said, ‘No, son. This is not the way of brahmins. God will punish him for his shameless act. I forgive him.’

As he said this, tears flowed from Shastriji’s eyes. He had never felt so humiliated in his life.

Chintamani tried to mollify him, ‘Bhaiya, you’re feeling wretched for no reason. You should be consoling us. And here you yourself are crying. Whatever is destined by God will happen. But you will see, there will be compensation for this very soon.’

“What compensation, friend? This wound would never heal. How luckless we are that we wait upon others to feed us. At this moment I feel I should die rather than go back to the school. A person who can’t get to feed himself to his satisfaction through his own efforts is worthless. I spent my life toadying the officials, or singing the praises of the rich. Had I spent half that effort to do something different I would have become a respectable human being. Today this crooked Ghasite has opened my eyes.’

Chintamani said, ‘Let’s see what Sona Bhabi has to say.’

Moteram said, ‘My feet are unsteady even now. If you ask me I’m not fit to show my face anywhere. She won’t let me live.’ 
                                    ---   
(First published in Hindi, Smalochak, March-April 1928 )

Glossary

Amriti                      a kind of Indian sweet made from urd dal batter that is given a loopy-flowery shape as it is released into the frying pan, deep fried and dipped in sugar syrup

Kalakand                    an Indian sweet made by boiling milk over slow heat until it is semi-solid and   mixed with sugar

Kalpavriksha                wishful-filling divine tree in Hindu mythology

Maund                         an old measure of weight,  about 37 kilograms

Motichoor ladoo          a sweet prepared from gram flour

Mughdha              a heroine who is youthful, inexpert and bashful in expressing her desire and making love

Ser                               an old measure of weight, a little less than a kilogram

Shradh                      a ritual which Hindus perform annually to honour and remember their ancestors,   especially dead parents, by feeding brahmins  






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