Premchand's Moteramji Shastri Tetralogy in English translation - story 3
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)
(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 third of these stories.
Editor Moteramji Shastri
When Pandit Chintmani returned
after many months of pilgrimage-travel he went to meet his best friend Pandit
Moteramji Shastri. During this long period of travel he had undergone many
novel experiences; seen and heard many new things. He was eager to share all
this, with certain exaggerations, with panditji. He quickly reached panditji’s
residence and as he tried to go in he was challenged by a peon: ‘Who’s going
in. Stop. Why do you want to go in?’
Chintamani asked in astonishment, ‘Isn’t this Moteram’s residence?’
The peon replied, ‘I don’t know that. But the administrator’s orders are
not to allow anyone inside.’
‘Who’s is the administrator? Isn’t this Moteram’s residence?’
‘I don’t know. But this is the administrator’s order.’
‘Tell me who the administrator is.’
‘The administrator himself, who else!’
Chintamani,
in utter surprise, looked at the house from top to bottom wondering if he had
made a mistake. Just then he saw a big sign board at the door with the writing
“Sona Office”. In his eagerness to meet his friend he had failed to see the
board. He asked, ‘Is this some office?’
‘Don’t you have eyes?’
‘Why are you being so rude? Do I look like some beggar? If this is
Moteram’s house, then go and tell him that pandit Chintamani has come to see
him. Don’t show me this arrogance.’
‘Show me your card.’
‘What card?’
‘Administrator ji doesn’t meet anyone without seeing the card.’
‘You go and tell my name.’
‘How can I tell your name? He may get angry.’
When Chintamani realized that his pleading won’t work he stood at the
door and started shouting: Moteram, O
Moteram.’
The peon caught Chintamani by the hand and said, ‘You are not allowed to
shout here.’
Chintamani lost his temper and was about to give the peon a taste of
his brahmanical force when Moteramji came out of his house and on seeing Chintamani said, ‘Arre, You
Chintamani! Why didn’t you send in your card. You must have seen the signboard.
I’m editor of the magazine named “Sona”. Come in. I don’t see anyone without
seeing his card. But you’re an old friend, so there is no bar for you.’
When Chinamani went inside he found that everything had changed. The small
room in which Sona used to sit now contained a few tables and chairs. There was
a heap of letters in the kitchen. In the verandah workers were busy writing in
big registers.
When both the friends sat on the chairs Moteramji said, ‘After you went
on your pilgrimage I started this
magazine.’
‘Then, Sona is the name of the magazine. And you’re its editor?’
‘Ever since I started this magazine, the Hindi world has been in turmoil.
It’s not even three months since I started it and the readership has already
crossed twenty-five thousand. I am getting non-stop orders. The post offices
have increased their number of postmen.’
‘You're lying, altogether lying. Sixteen-anna lying. Twenty-five
thousand! You don’t fear even God? If you had said two thousand five hundred, I
would have understood. You don’t know even how to lie.’
Moteram
laughed and said, ‘That’s what others also say. Whosoever hears is astonished.
But here everything is done truthfully. Anyone can look at the registers. If
you don’t find twenty-five thousand subscribers, you can punish me as you would
a thief. And this is only the beginning. And if I don’t increase it to one lakh
in a year you change my name. There is no dearth of subscribers. But there is
dearth of workers. If you have sincere workers there is no end to subscribers.
All this is the result of advertisements. Should I show you the registers?’
Chintamani replied, ‘You must have done manipulations in the registers.
Made false entries. Left many numbers blank. I can believe you are very clever
at managing things. I can’t do even one fourth of what you are claiming.
But you cannot get the number twenty-five thousand. Where did you get so much
money from?’
‘Don’t talk of money. It’s all God’s gift. He is one who can help you
set up a big business without spending even a cowerie. One should know how to
do it. There’s no need to spend a cowerie. I borrowed paper from the paper
merchant. Got the printing done on credit. That did it all. If you recover the
money, pay back to the paper merchant and the printer, otherwise shut your ears
and sit quietly. Who can do anything?’
‘Why would the paper merchants and printers give you credit?’
Moteram laughed and said, ‘That’s another ability, and God’s gift. You
can’t acquire it from books or learn it by wrought. You can call it a transference
from the previous birth. You know the paper merchant seth Suddhilal at whose
home we have feasted to our heart’s fill. He is a devoted person. I asked him.
He delivered paper worth five hundred rupees loaded on pushcarts. I don’t have
my own printing press. I get the magazine printed from another’s press. I have
employed two dozen agents who go to
villages to advertise the magazine. I am very strict with my workers. I get
furious if I find them dilly-dallying or malingering. My body burns up with
anger. And I feel like eating them raw, without salt. Many have run away. That
worked to my advantage because I didn’t have to pay them. I have beaten up many.
They shiver with fear in my presence. I need about ten additional agents. If
you like you can recommend a few of your friends. It’s profitable work.’
‘There are hardly any among my friends who would tolerate your
unscrupulous ways. If you show your fists they would take you on. But tell me
how are you able to edit the magazine?’
‘How do I edit! By using my intelligence, what else?’
‘You were never very intelligent.’
‘It’s
beyond you to judge my intelligence. Only a donkey like you can question the
intelligence of a person who, without spending any of his money, has set up
this office, become the editor of such a big magazine that is famous all over
the country.’
‘This is crookedness, not intelligence.’
‘Oh! You may call it crookedness, or deceit, or cunning, but in my
dictionary it is intelligence. Let any great scholar send me his article, I
shall certainly make a few alterations. I always use the red ink at a few
places. This overawes the scholars. I have engaged two-three translators. They
translate articles, and comments from languages like Bangla and Gujarati. These
I use in my editorials. They don’t contain the author’s name. So people believe
that Shastriji himself has written them. Who has the time to investigate my writings? I
have discovered, after a long time, the
formula for worldly success. But I won’t disclose it to you.’
‘Friend, why this secrecy from me? I have always treated you as my Guru
and even now consider you as my elder brother. And you are being stingy with
me.’
‘Ok, promise you will bring 100 subscribers for the magazine.’
‘Have I ever refused to carry out your will?’
‘Ok, then listen. That magic formula is to brag. Don’t ever care if people
disbelieve you, or make fun of you. After you are gone they would reflect on what
you have said and admire you even if they conclude that just one percent of what
you have said is true. Just hook the earth and the sky together. Don’t show the
subscriber number to be less than one lakh. Loudly proclaim that you have
planned to engage western authors. Make your pictures and write-ups look unique
and you would see how the subscribers are trapped. You hesitate a little bit
and you are gone. Forget for a moment who you are and believe that what you are
claiming is the literal truth. You haven’t seen my magazine. There are many
articles on social reform.’
‘On social reform? When did you become a social reformer? You never
spend money to buy puris from the bazar.’
‘Don’t question what I eat and how I live. When I enter this room I
become a hardcore social reformer. And elsewhere at home I become sworn enemy of social
reforms. You would be surprised to know that I have supported widow remarriage,
removal of uuntouchability and the Shuddhi movement. In my heart I believe the
Hindu Samaj would sink into the underworld as a result of these reforms, but I
have to bring up my children.’
‘Friend, you are such a crook. I must admire your intelligence.’
‘Keep watching. Now I shall give an advertisement that there would be
twelve special issues of the magazine. I shall mention the names of the
greatest names of the world as their editors. One issue would be edited by Dr.
Tagore, another by Dr. Iqbal, another by Shankaracharya, another by Mussolini,
another by Kaiser and another by Lloyd George. Then you will see how this
advertisement creates an upheaval.’
‘And if these great men refuse to give their consent?’
‘This is a fact. They won’t agree. But the person who becomes a
subscriber under this deceit won’t come to ask for a refund. Next year I shall
let off another sparkler.’
2
While
they were talking about the magazine, Sona Devi came there as if dancing.
Chintamani was surprised to see a strange brightness on her face. The moment
Sona saw Chintamani she said, ‘Oh, lala, you are coming after a long time. Have
you put us out of your mind?’
‘Oh no bhabhiji, I had gone away on a pilgrimage. One should think of
the life-hereafter too.’
‘Arre, you’re not so old that you should start worrying about your life-hereafter.
You’re not even fifty as yet. And your bhaiya has contracted a new obsession. I
tried to persuade him not to get into this chicanery, telling him we’ll get
sitting at home what God has destined for us. But the truth is he does not
listen to anyone. He does not have even five hundred buyers for the magazine
and he is shouting he has twenty-five thousand.’
Moteram said angrily, ‘Who called you here to ride on my head like a
daiyan? Go inside.’
Chintamani said, ‘What? Not even five hundred buyers yet. He’s telling
me he has twenty-five thousand.’
Sona replied, ‘He’s barking. Fakery is his lifeblood.’
Moteram asked her, ‘Won’t you leave this place?’
Sona replied, ‘Not at all. Let me see what you do. You can’t dictate
things to me, mind you. You’re cheating the world. You cheat. Don’t show me
your eyes. I’ll gouge them out. Today I’m bursting with anger. Aren’t you
ashamed that in your magazine you should plead for widow marriage. There’s a
widow at home, your own sister. Why don’t you marry her off?. Show me your
twenty-five thousand customers. He is showing everyone a ‘rujtter’ with false
entries. Lala, what should I say about his habits? He has now started
drinking.’
Chintamani was shocked, ‘Arre, really? Rama, Rama.’
Moteram shouted at his wife, ‘I shall strangle you.’
Sona continued, ‘Rama alone knows, he drinks. Empties a whole bottle. He
goes to the English liquor shop like a thief and runs back home hiding a bottle
in his pocket. A real thief. Says drinking enhances intelligence. Helps digestion.
Gives pleasure. Cast your pleasure into fire. His devilish intelligence has become
so big that it is everywhere. Because of this the whole house is stinking.’
Chintamani questioned Moteram, ‘Friend, what is this? You were addicted to bhang. Wasn’t that
enough?’
‘Arre, let her bark. She’s out of her senses.’
Sona retorted, ‘Just shut up, or else I shall rip open all your
misdeeds. Lala, I don’t know why God has brought him to this ruin. Now he is
running after three other women. His eyes are not open even after the thrashing
he got at the Rani’s place. He is
parading as an editor, has become a social reformer, has become a guide for
others, become a preacher, and see what he himself is. He owes five hundred
rupees to the paper merchant. The printer is out to bring his house down and he
is lost in fun and frolic. And it is me who is dying out of worries.’
Chintamani said, ‘I don’t think this is true, bhabhiji. I had never been
fed on so much salt.’
Sona arched her eyes towards him and said, ‘There are three sitting at
home. Haven’t you had your heart’s fill of salt by looking at them? I tell you.
Don’t argue with me or you will get back a hundred for one. Now I will show the
crookedness of this Moosarchand. The real ‘rejtter’ he has hidden in the small
room where no one can see it. Come...’
Chintamani wanted this very thing. He got up quickly, but Shastriji was
quite alert. He caught Chintamani by the hand. Poor Chintamani was in trouble.
On one side Sona was pulling his hand towards herself with full force and on
the other side Moteram was using all his force. Chintamani felt as if both his
arms were being pulled apart and he started shouting.
‘Ok, lala, you keep holding his hand. I’m bringing the ‘rejetter’. Don’t
let him go.’ Sona said to Chintamani. Saying this she walked into the small
room.
And here both the friends began to wrestle.
Moteram said, ‘I shall break your bones.’
Chintamani retorted, ‘I shall bury you under.’
‘Shall grind you into powder.’
‘Shall turn you into chutney.’
Both the friends were displaying the bravery of their words, lying on
the ground. And Sona was showing the register of subscribers to Chintamani.
Chinta saw that 480 was the last figure. He said. ‘Why, friend, you were taking
me for a ride. Shall I catch you by the neck just for this?’
Moteram said, ‘This woman is the product of my sins in the last birth,
that’s all. Now let it go. You have seen
all. Now my reputation is in your hands. Don’t reveal anything to anyone.’
Chintamani replied, ‘No. friend, I’m not such a fool. But I must ask for
one thing. You will have to put my name too on the patrika. We both would be
its editors. You may put your name on top, but put my name under it. Do you
agree?’
Motram said in a serious tone, ‘Yes, I agree.’
---
(Hindi, Madhuri,
August-September,1928)
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