Read my translation of Premchand's another short story.
A Tale of Two Oxen
(दो बैलों की कथा)
(दो बैलों की कथा)
1
The donkey is considered
to be the most stupid among animals. Whenever we want to call someone a fool of
the first water we call him a donkey. However, it is not possible to determine
whether the donkey is really stupid, or it is his naivety and stony patience
that has earned him this honour. A cow uses her horns, and a calved cow
naturally transforms into a tigress. The dog too is a very lowly animal, but he
too loses patience sometimes. But we have never seen or heard a donkey lose his
temper. You may thrash the poor fellow as much as you like, serve him the most
rotten grass, and yet you would never see any sign of disaffection on his face.
He might occasionally bray in pleasure in the month of Baisakh, but I have
never seen a donkey in a state of happiness. A look of melancholy remains
permanently etched on his face, which never changes in good or bad times. All
the virtues that belong to the rishis
and munis have touched their peak in
him, and yet people call him stupid. We
have never seen such a debasement of merit. May be simplicity is not something
to be valued in this world. See, why Indians are ill-treated in South
Africa, and are not allowed to enter America! The poor fellows don’t drink,
save a few coins for bad times, work
very hard, don’t fight but instead keep quiet after uttering a few words. And yet
they are maligned. It is said they have lowered the standards of living.
Perhaps if they had learnt to hit back with a greater force, they would have
been called civilized. Japan’s example is before us. Just one victory has
catapulted her into the class of civilized nations.
But the donkey has a
younger brother, who is only slightly less donkeyish; and he is the ox. The
sense in which we use the word ‘donkey’, we also use the phrase ‘she-calf’s
great uncle’. Some people might call the ox is the first in stupidity, but I
don’t think that is so. The ox is sometimes aggressive, and sometimes he is
headstrong. And he shows his resentment in many different ways. Therefore, to
that extent, his status is lower than that of a donkey.
Jhuri, of the vegetable
growers’ caste, had two oxen, named Heera and Moti. Both belonged to the
‘Pachchai’ breed ⎼
tall, handsome and sturdy. Having been together for long they had become friends. Sitting face
to face or closeby, they conversed in a mute language. How they
understood each other we cannot say. Perhaps they possessed a special faculty
which is denied to man, who claims to be the crown of the living world. Both
expressed their love for each other by licking and smelling. Sometimes they
locked their horns, not out of hostility but fun; like two friends engaged in a
friendly combat, without which friendship would have looked dull and unreal,
and not very trustworthy. Whenever they were yoked to the plough or a
cart, they moved shaking their necks as if each was trying to take the maximum weight on his own neck. And when after the day’s work they were unyoked, they relieved
their weariness by licking each other. And when their fodder was put into the
manger they stood up to eat together and when one stopped the other stopped
too.
It so happened that one
day Jhuri sent the pair to his in-laws. How could the oxen know why they had
been sent away? They thought they had been sold. We cannot say whether or not
the pair liked having been sold, but Jhuri’s brother-in-law sweated between his
teeth driving them homewards. If he goaded them from behind the two ran left or
right, if he pulled them forward by their nose strap they pulled backwards. If he
whipped them they lowered their horns and bellowed. If God had given them
speech, they would have asked Jhuri, ‘Why are we being driven out? We have
served you with all our devotion. If you had told us we were not working hard
enough we could have worked harder. We were willing to die, serving you. We
never complained about what you fed us. Ate whatever you gave us, with our
heads down. And still you sold us to this cruel man.’
By the evening the pair
reached their new destination. They had been hungry since morning, yet they did
not lower their mouths into the manger. They were broken-hearted. What they
thought was their home had been left behind. This new place, this new village, these
new people – everything looked strange.
Both conferred in their
sign language, looked at each other with slanting eyes, and lay down. When the
village had gone to sleep, they broke their tether and made their way back
home.
When Jhuri woke up in
the morning he found both the oxen standing at the manger with the broken
pieces of tether hanging round their necks. Their legs up to the knees were
soiled with mud and both of them looked at Jhuri with an affectionate defiance.
Jhuri’s heart was
filled with love. He ran towards them and embraced them. This scene of
embracing and kissing was a wonderful sight.
Boys of the family and the
village came and stood around them clapping their hands in welcome. Although
not something extraordinary, it was still a very special event in the village,
and the boys of the village decided to honour the two animal heroes. One
brought rotis, another gur, another seed cake and yet another
fodder.
One of them said,
‘These oxen are unique.’
Another agreed, ‘They returned
from so far unaided.’
The third said, ‘They
are not oxen. They were human beings in their previous life.’
No one dared refute
this.
However, when Jhuri’s
wife saw them at the door, she became red with anger. She said, ‘They are so
ungrateful. Didn’t work there even for a day and bolted.’
Jhuri could not stand
this accusation and said, ‘Why’re they ungrateful? They were not fed properly.
So they came back.’
The wife retorted, ‘You
alone know how to feed them, and others make them live on water.’
Jhuri hit back, ‘Had
they been fed they wouldn’t have run back.’
The wife said, ‘They
ran back because people don’t foolishly pamper their animals like you do. If
they feed they make them work too. These two are shirkers, so they ran back. I
will see how they get seed cake and wheat husk. I’ll feed them only dry fodder,
let them eat or not.’
And that is what
happened. The attendant was strictly instructed to feed them only dry fodder.
When the oxen put their
mouths into the manger to eat, they found the feed tasteless. No oil, no seedcake.
What to eat! They looked at the door with expectant eyes.
Jhuri said to the
attendant, ‘Why don’t you add some seed cake?’
‘Malkin would kill me.’
‘Do it without her
knowing.’
‘No, dada, later on you will throw the blame
on me.’
2
The next day Jhuri’s brother-in-law,
Gaya, came again and took the oxen away, this time yoking them to a cart.
Once or twice Moti
tried to drive the cart into a ditch, but Heera pulled back. He was more
forbearing.
In the evening when Gaya reached home he
tethered them with a thick rope and thrashed them for their yesterday’s
escapade. He fed them only dry fodder, where to his own oxen he fed the usual
diet including seed cake and pieces of dry rotis.
The duo had never been
insulted like this. Jhuri had never touched them even with the lightest stick.
Both of them would fly off merely at the click of his tongue. And here they had
been thrashed. And this dry fodder now added insult to injury.
They didn’t even look
at the manger.
Next day Gaya yoked
them to the plough, but they refused to move even one step. Gaya thrashed them
until he was tired. When Gaya hit repeatedly at Heera’s muzzle, Moti became
furious and broke loose and ran away with the plough. The plough, the rope and
all the strappings were broken. Had there been no ropes round their necks, the
two wouldn’t have been caught.
Heera said in their
sign language, ‘No use running.’
Moti said, ‘He nearly
killed you. Now you’ll get a big beating.’
‘So what! Born an ox, how can we escape thrashing?’
Gaya was hurrying
towards them with two men carrying lathis.
Moti said, ‘Should I give
him a taste of his own medicine? He’s coming here with lathis.’
“No, brother, stop
now.’
‘If he thrashes me, I
shall bring them down.’
‘No, this is against
our dharma.’
Moti was forced to
restrain himself. Gaya came there and caught both of them and drove them back.
Fortunately this time he did not resort to beating, otherwise Moti would have
retaliated. Observing his mood, Gaya and his companions thought it wiser to be
discrete.
Once again the two were
served dry fodder. Both stood still. The family were having their evening meal.
Just then a small girl came out with two rotis
and pushed them into their mouths. This did not alleviate their hunger, yet
their hearts seemed satiated. Here too there was someone who was kind-hearted.
The girl was Gaya’s daughter. Her own mother was dead and the stepmother
ill-treated her. That’s why perhaps she had developed a soft corner for
them.
Now both were yoked the
whole day, beaten, but defiant. In the evening they were tethered to a stake.
And the same little girl would come and feed them two rotis. As a result of this token of affection the two, in spite of
the dry fodder they were fed, did not lose their strength. But their eyes,
their hearts remained suffused with revolt.
One day Moti said,
‘Heera, it’s no longer possible to go on.’
‘What do you want?’
‘I’ll toss one of them
upon my horns.’
‘But do you know that
the sweet girl who feeds us with rotis is the malik's daughter. She would be orphaned.’
‘Should I then toss up
the malkin? It is she who beats the girl.’
‘But don’t you know
it’s wrong to use violence against women?’
‘But you don’t show any
way out. Should we break loose?’
‘Yes, but how shall we cut
this thick rope?’
‘There’s a way. Let’s
chew the rope first. Then it will snap with one jerk.’
At night, when the girl
had fed them two rotis, they
began to chew their ropes. But the ropes were too thick to catch in the mouths.
Poor fellows tried again and again but failed.
Suddenly the door
opened and the same girl came out. Both of them began licking her hands, and
raised their tails up. She patted their faces and said, ‘I will untie you. Just
run away from here, or these people will kill you. Today they are planning to
put a halter through your noses.’
She untethered them.
But the two stood still.
Moti asked, ‘Why don’t
you move?’
Heera said that if they
did, hell would be let loose on this girl. All would suspect her. Suddenly the
girl began to shout, ‘Oh dada, both
the oxen are running away. Come, come quickly.’
Gaya came out in great
confusion. The two oxen ran, chased by Gaya. Then Gaya returned to get some
more villagers to help. This gave the pair a start and the two ran straight
without knowing where they were going. The route they were
familiar with was nowhere here.They had lost their way and found themselves around
strange villages. Then both of them stood at the edge of a field wondering what
to do.
Heera said, ‘Looks we
have lost our way.’
‘You ran like the mad.
You should have brought him down.’
‘If we had done that
the people would have blamed us. If they don’t follow their dharma, should we
also do the same?’
Both were terribly
hungry. They saw peas growing in the field and began to feed on them, wary of
any danger.
When they had their
fill, they felt they were free and began to frolic around. First they belched,
then joined their horns and began to push one another. Moti pushed Heera so
much that he fell into a ditch. Heera became angry, got up and recovered his
balance and advanced towards Moti. When Moti saw that their frolic was leading
to a fight he stepped aside.
3
Suddenly they saw a
bull, bellowing and advancing towards them. Both the friends looked at him. He
looked like an elephant. Fighting him was like inviting death, but not fighting
was equally hazardous. He looked so terrible!
Moti said, ‘We’re in
great danger. Think of a way out.’
Heera replied, ‘He’s
drunk with pride. He won’t listen to our entreaties.’
‘Shouldn’t we run
away?’
‘That would be
cowardice.’
‘Then die here. I’m
going.’
‘And if he chases you?’
‘Then, think of a way
out quickly.’
‘The only way is for us
to attack him together, I from front and you from rear. He won’t be able to
stand this two-prong attack. If he attacks me, you push your horns into his
side. This is dangerous, but there’s no other way.’
Both the friends attacked, putting their lives at risk. The bull had no experience of fighting against two animals
together. As he ran towards Heera, Moti attacked him from rear. When the bull
turned towards Moti, Heera attacked him from the other side. The bull wanted to
take them on one by one, but these two fought cleverly and did not give him
that opportunity. When the bull made a decisive move to bring Heera down, Moti
pushed his horn into his side.When he turned to attack Moti, Heera pushed his
horn into the other flank. Wounded, the bull ran. The two now chased him and
the poor fellow fell down, gasping for breath. Then the two let him go.
Both the friends were
walking, relishing their victory.
Moti said in their sign
language, ‘I wanted to kill the fellow.’
Heera retorted, ‘Shouldn't use our horns against a fallen enemy.’
‘This is hypocrisy. The
enemy should be so hit that he can’t rise again.’
‘Think, how to reach
home now?’
‘Let’s first eat
something.’
The pea crop was right
there. Moti entered the field against Heera’s advice. They had just begun to
eat when two men carrying lathis came running and closed on them. Heera was
just on the edge and escaped. Moti could not run because his feet were caught
in the soft soil that had been watered only recently. He was caught. When Heera
saw that his companion was in trouble he returned. He could not desert his friend. He too was caught.
In the morning both the
friends were locked up in the municipal yard for stray cattle, the Kanjihauz.
4
This was the first time
ever in their lives that they did not get anything to eat for the whole day.
They could not figure out the character of their new owner. Gaya was certainly
better. There were buffaloes, sheep and goats, horses and donkeys here, but no
one was being fed and all were lying half dead. A few had gone so weak they
could hardly stand on their feet. The whole day the two friends kept staring at
the gate, but they saw no trace of fodder. Then the two began to lick the salty
mud on the walls, but this could not allay their hunger.
And when they did not
get anything to eat, Heera became rebellious. He said to Moti, ‘Now, I can’t
stand it anymore.’
Moti said, hanging his
head down in dejection, ‘It looks we are going to die.’
‘Don’t lose heart so
soon. Think of a way to escape from here.’
‘Come, let’s bring down
the wall.
‘I won’t be able to do
anything now.’
‘So this is all the
toughness you have!’
‘That’s all gone.’
The wall of the
municipal yard was built of mud. Heera rammed his horns into the wall and
pushed. A piece of mud broke loose. This encouraged him. He ran again and again
to the wall and drove his horns into it, and every time some chunks of mud came
off the wall.
At that very time the
chowkidar came there with a lantern, to count the animals. Observing Heera’s
wild behavior he squarely thrashed him with his lathi and then tethered him
with a rope.
Moti said, ‘So you got
beaten up after all. What did you get?’
‘But I applied all my
strength.’
‘What use was it? And
now you’re bound.’
‘I’ll keep doing it, in
spite of all the ropes.’
‘You will lose your
life.’
‘Who cares? We’re going
to die anyway. Just imagine if the wall had come down, so many lives would have
been saved. So many are locked up here! All are almost lifeless. If this
continues for some more days, they will die.’
‘That is true. All
right, I’ll join you.’
Moti also thrust his
horns into the same place. A chunk of mud came off. Encouraged, he began to dig
his horns into the wall with all his force. He persisted and after about two
hours half the wall came down.
As soon as the wall
collapsed, all the half-dead animals suddenly came alive. The three mares were
the first to bolt; then the goats, and then the buffaloes. But the donkeys
stayed put.
Heera asked, ‘Why don’t
you run away?’
One of the donkeys
said, ‘What if we’re caught again?’
‘So what? Now you have
a chance to escape.’
‘We’re afraid. We shall
keep lying here.’
It was past midnight.
The donkeys were still undecided. Moti was busy cutting his friend’s rope. And
when he failed, Heera said, ‘You go and leave me here. We might meet
somewhere.’
Moti replied tearfully,
‘Do you think I am so selfish. We have been together for so long. And now you
want me to leave you when you’re in trouble.’
Heera said, ’You will
get a severe beating. They will think you are responsible for this.’
Moti replied with
pride, ‘I don’t care if I am thrashed for what we have done. We have at least
saved nine or ten lives. They will bless us.’
Saying this Moti drove
the two donkeys out with his horns. Then he came and lay down close to his
friend.
There is no need to
describe the hullabaloo raised when the munshi, the chowkidar and other
employees came there. Enough to say that Moti was given a sound beating and was
bound with a rope like his friend.
5
For one full week the
two friends remained bound in the kanjihauz. Not a piece of straw to eat. Only water once a day. They had become so weak
that their backbones had become prominent.
One day they heard a
drum beat in front of the kanjihauz,
and by the afternoon about fifty to sixty people had assembled there. Then the
two friends were brought out. People came, looked at them and turned away
uninterested. Who would buy such emaciated cattle?
Suddenly a bearded man,
red-eyed and cruel looking, came there and started talking to the munshi, while
prodding their haunches with his fingers. Both the friends were terrified at
the very look of the man. They were in no doubt who he was and why he was
interested in them. Both looked at each other with frightened eyes and lowered their heads.
Heera said, ‘Why did we
run away from Gaya.? Now we would lose our lives.’
Moti said irreverently,
‘They say God is kind to all. Why doesn’t He take pity on us?’
‘For God it’s the same
whether we live or die. It’s all right. We’ll stay with this man for sometime.
Once God came to our rescue in the shape of that small girl, won’t He come again?’
‘This man will use his chopper
on us. You’ll see.’
‘Why worry? Our flesh,
our skin, our bones, our horns ⎼
all would be of some use to people.’
Having been sold, the
two friends went with the bearded man. They were shivering in every limb.They
were unable to walk steadily, but they continued to move driven by fear. The
moment they slowed down they were hit with a stick.
On their way they saw a herd of cattle grazing
in a green field. All the animals were happy, shiny skinned, quick-footed. One
was jumping. Another sat and leisurely chewing the cud. What a peaceful life! But how selfish they
were! They were unmindful that two of their brothers were in the clutches of a butcher.
Suddenly they realized
that this route was familiar to them. Yes, this was the route Gaya had taken to
drive them to his village. The same fields, the same garden, the same villages.
Now they began to move faster. All their weariness was gone. Lo and be hold, it
was their own village. This was the same well where they used to drive the
water-wheel.
Moti said, ‘We’re close
to our home.’
Heera said, ‘By God’s
blessing.’
‘I’ll run home now.’
‘He won’t let you.’
‘I’ll push him down.’
‘No, no. Let’s run up
to our pen.’
Both of them ran
towards their fold jumping like calves. Both of them came and stood there. The bearded man also came there chasing them.
Jhuri was basking in
the sun. The moment he saw the oxen he ran towards them and embraced them one
by one. Their eyes were filled with tears of joy. One of them was licking
Jhuri’s hand.
The bearded man came and
caught the oxen by their ropes.
Jhuri said, ‘These’re
my oxen.’
‘How? I bought them in
an auction from the kanjihauz.’
‘I think you have
stolen them. Just go away. These’re my oxen. They can be bought only if I sell
them. No one has the right to sell my oxen.’
‘I’ll go and report to
the police.’
‘These are my oxen. The
proof is they have come to my doors.’
The bearded man tried
to forcibly take away the oxen. At that very moment Moti advanced towards him
lowering his horns. The man drew back. Moti chased him and the man began to
run. Moti ran after him. Once outside the village the man stopped and started
threatening, cursing and throwing stones. And Moti stood facing him. The
villagers were having fun laughing at the show.
When the man had gone
away, Moti returned in a triumphant mood.
Heera said, ‘I was
afraid you would kill him.’
“If he had caught me, I
would certainly have hit him.’
‘He won’t come now.’
‘If he comes, I’ll
teach him a lesson.’
‘Suppose he gets you shot?’
‘I’ll die but won’t be
of any use to him.’
‘No one values our
lives.’
‘Just because we’re so
simple!’
In a short while their
manger was filled with fodder, seedcake and grain, and both of them began to
eat.
Jhuri was standing
there patting them, and dozens of boys were enjoying the sight. The whole
village was in a state of excitement.
Just then Jhuri’s wife
came and kissed their faces.
(Hindi,
Hans, October 1931)
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My Comments
The story is full of light-hearted
humour and gentle irony, and volubility, all so typical of Premchand. The story is
a fine delineation of man’s relationship with his cattle. But is it really only
that? It reads more like a Panchatantra tale where animals talk like human beings and often behave like human beings.
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