Premchand's Moteram Shastriji story - 5

Premchand's Moteram Shastriji Series

 Premchand’s Moteram Tetralogy

Premchand wrote four stories in which a character named Moteramji Shastri, a Brahmin,  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)


A Correction and an apology

I have been saying here that Premchand wrote four stories in which a character named Moteramji Shastri appears in different avatars, a group which I called a Premchand tetralogy.

I am sorry to say I was mistaken in this. After a scan of the monumental six-volume collection of 300 stories of Premchand  collected and edited by Dr Kamal Kishore Goyanka and published by Sahitya Akademi under the title Premchand Kahani Rachnavali in 2010, I found that Premchand in fact wrote not four but eight stories featuring Moteram Shastri as the main character. So it is an octalogy, if I may use this rarely used word. I deeply regret this misinformation.

Here are the other four stories.

1.       मनष्य का परम धर्म (Manushya Ka Param Dharama) (Swadesh, March 1920)

         

2.      सत्याग्रह (Satyagraha) (Madhuri, December 1923)

3.      निमंत्रण  (Nimantran)  (Saraswati, November 1926)

4.      गुरुमंत्र  (Gurumantra) (Prem-Pratima,1926)  

(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) 

 As can be seen, Premchand introduced Moteram Shastri as a character for the first time in 1920 along with his friend and rival Chintamani in the story Manushya Ka Param Dharama (Man's Foremost Duty). His wife, Sona, also features in this story though she is not mentioned here by name. In this group of four stories, full of humour and caricature, Moteram can be seen predominantly as a gormandizing brahmin always hankering for feasts but not always succeeding. He can be called a food maniac, or even a food voluptuary, who would cheat or deceive any one, use any stratagem to entice people to satisfy his insatiable desire and capacity for sweets. And in the stories listed in my tetralogy Moteram appears in various roles as a disreputable character, dishonest in his dealings.

One is struck by the fact that Moteram is a brahmin, which seems not incidental but deliberate, and this group of eight stories can be together read as a study of a brahmin’s mind and brahminism as seen by Premchand. Since there are many brahmin characters in Premchand’s oeuvre, not all of them disreputable as Moteram though a few even worse. Scholars of Premchand  could  find it fruitful to study the image of brahmins and the brahmanical mind as portrayed in Premchand’s fiction, unless of course this subject has already been explored by someone.  

Of the four stories outside my tetralogy the story Satyagraha is a very fine story and, in my opinion, deserves to be placed among his very readable stories. I hope to put it on my blog sometime. 

As promised in my last post 'Pandit Moteram's Diary' please find the story Satyagraha  featuring Moteram Shastri as the main character. Readers may find it interesting and relevant to the post-independence and contemporary politics of fasting.

SATYAGRAHA

1

His Excellency, the Viceroy was visiting Benaras. The government officials, big and small, were busy readying the city to welcome him. On the other hand the Congress had called for hartal. This had rattled the officials. Yet the roads were being decorated with buntings, the city spruced up, huge gates erected, offices decorated, a huge pandal was being built; and at the same time the policemen, with bayonets mounted on their rifles, were patrolling the streets. The officials were desperate to foil the hartal, but the congressmen were determined to make it a success. If the officials had brute force with them, the congressmen were confident of their moral strength. This was an occasion to test who was going to carry the day.

   Riding a horse, the magistrate was, from morning to evening, threatening the shopkeepers ⎼ that he would send them to jail, have their shops looted, and  this and that. The shopkeepers were pleading with folded hands, ‘Hazoor, you are the king and master of our destiny. You can do anything you like, but we are helpless. The Congressmen won’t let us live. They would sit on dharnas at our shops, jump into a well, go on a fast. Who knows a few might die, which would blacken our faces for ever. Hazoor, you would do us a great favour if you persuade the congressmen. We aren’t going to lose anything if we don’t go on hartal.  Many big people would be coming and if our shops remain open we shall double our prices and sell dear. But we’re helpless against these shaitans.

   Rai Sahib Harnandan, Raja Lalchand, and Khan Bahadur Maulvi Mahmood Ali were far more restless than the officials. Together with the magistrate, and also individually, they were trying very hard.  They were calling the shopkeepers to their residences, persuading them, requesting them, browbeating them, threatening the ekka and bagghi drivers, pleading with the labourers. But these people were so cowed by a handful of congressmen that they would not listen to any of them. So much so that the woman vegetable-seller in the neighbourhood also said, ‘Hazoor, you may kill me.I won’t open my shop. I won’t have my nose cut.’ Their worst fear was lest the labourers, carpenters and blacksmiths engaged in erecting the pandal should refuse to work. That would be disastrous. Rai Sahib said to the magistrate, ‘Hazoor, it is better to call shopkeepers from other cities and ask them to set up a bazaar.’

   Khan Sahib said, ‘Time is so short, it’s not possible to set up another bazaar. Hazoor, arrest these congressmen and confiscate their property. Then see how they don’t come to heel.’

   Rai Sahib said, ‘People would be still more displeased if they are arrested. Hazoor, tell the congressmen that if they call off the hartal they would be given jobs. Majority of them are unemployed and would happily take the bait.’

   But the magistrate did not like any of the proposals. And only three days were left for the Viceroy to arrive.

2

Al last Raja Sahib thought of a stratagem: ‘Why shouldn’t we too employ moral force? After all, the congressmen too make mountains of mole hills in the name of dharma and policy. We should copy them and beard the lion in his den. We should look for a person who should publicly vow that he would give up his life if the shops were not kept open. But he must be a brahmin, and one who is well-known and respected in the city.’ The others so liked the idea they jumped at it. Rai Sahib said, ‘Yes, now we have won the battle. Well, which pandit would do? Pandit Gadadhar Sharma?’ 

   Raja Sahib said, ‘Oh no. Who cares for him? He only writes for newspapers. No one in the city knows him.’

   Rai Sahib said, ‘Isn’t Damdi Ojha  of this type?’

   Raja Sahib retorted, ‘Oh no. Who knows him, except the college students?’

   Rai Sahib said, ‘Pandit Moteram Shastri?’

  Raja Sahib said, ‘Yes, yes. Well thought of. He is the man we need. We should call him. He’s a scholar. He lives by the rituals. And he is clever too. If we can catch him the game is ours.’

Rai Sahib immediately sent a messenger to Moteram’s house. Shastriji was at his puja then. As soon as he heard the message he terminated the puja and got ready to go. Raja Sahib had sent for him. It was a blessed opportunity. He said to his wife, ‘Today the moon seems auspicious. Give me my clothes. Let me see why he has called me.’

   His wife said, ‘Food is ready. Eat and then go. Who knows how long it would take for you to return?’

   But Shastriji did not think it proper to keep the messenger waiting. It was winter. He put on his green achkan edged with red lace; wrapped a zari scarf round his neck; tied a banarasi turban on his head; wore a red broad-bordered silk dhoti, put on his wooden sandals and moved out. His face radiated brahmanical effulgence. From a distance one could see that a mahatma was on the move. Whosoever met him on way bowed his head. Many shopkeepers touched his feet. Kashi’s fame rested on his shoulders, otherwise who else was there. He is so gentle in his behavior! He greets children with a smiling face. Donned in such magnificence he reached Raja Sahib’s house. The three friends stood up to welcome him. Khan Bahadur said, ‘How are you, panditji? Wallah! You deserve to be put in as showpiece in an exhibition. You can’t be weighing less than ten maunds?’

   Rai Sahib said, ‘For one maund of learning you need ten maunds of intelligence. By the same rule, for one maund of intelligence a ten-maund body is essential. Otherwise who would be able to carry that much weight?’  

   Raja Sahib interjected, ‘You people don’t understand. Intelligence is a kind of nasal fluid.  When the brain can’t retain it, it descends into the body.’

   Khan Sahib said, ‘I have heard from elders that fat people are enemies of intelligence.’

   Rai Sahib retorted, ‘You were weak in arithmetic, otherwise you would have understood that if intelligence and body are 1 to 10 in proportion, the fatter a man the heavier his intelligence would be.’

   Raja Sahib concluded, ‘From this it is proved that fatter a man, the duller he would be.’

   Moteram said, ‘If with a fat head I can be invited by the state officials, where is the need for a light head?’

After these light-hearted exchanges Raja Sahib presented before Panditji their problem and also the solution they had in their minds. He said, ‘Please understand that this year your future is entirely in your hands. Perhaps no one would have gotten such a great opportunity to make his future. If the hartal is stalled then, at the least, you won’t have to go and beg at any door for your life time. Think of such a vow that the city should shudder with fear. The congressmen have enhanced their power under the pretext of dharma. Think of a stratagem that should provoke the religious sentiments of people.’ 

  

   Moteram said in a serious tone, ‘This is not something difficult. I can perform feats that can bring down rain from the skies, subdue the fury of epidemics, reduce or increase the price of grains. Defeating the congressmen is no big thing. The English-educated gentlemen think they can do things which no one else can do, but they know nothing of the secret arts.’

   Khan Sahib responded, ‘Then, janab, we should say you are another God. We did not know you have such powers, otherwise we would not have waited so long.’

   Moteram said, ‘I can discover buried treasures, call the ancestral spirits. All I need is someone who values these powers. There is no dearth of adepts, but only those who recognize them.’

   Raja Sahib asked, ‘What shall we offer you for this service?’

   ‘Whatever you wish.’

   ‘Raja said. ‘Can you tell us what you would do?’

   ‘I would fast. And side by side with my fast there would be recitation of mantras. Don’t call me Moteram hereafter if I don’t throw the whole city into turmoil.’

   Raja sahib asked, ‘So when?’

   ‘It can begin today itself. But before that I would need some money to invoke the gods.’

There was no dearth of money. Panditji got the money and returned home quite pleased. He narrated the whole story to his wife. Worried, she said, ‘Why have you brought this trouble on your head? If you are not able to withstand the pangs of hunger you will be shamed and become the laughing stock of the city. Go and return the money.’

   Moteram assured her, ‘Why won’t I be able to withstand hunger? Do you think I am such a fool that I would sit on fast without any preparation? You first arrange food for me. Buy imratis, laddus and rasagullas. I shall first eat to the full. Then drink half a ser of cream. Then eat half a ser of almonds. And top it all with a helping of creamy curds. How can hunger come to trouble me? I won’t be able to even breathe for three days, forget hunger. By that time the whole city would be in turbulence. The sun of our fortune has risen. We would regret if we hold back now. If I am able to prevent the hartal we shall roll in wealth. Even otherwise, what do we lose? We have already pocketed one hundred rupees.’ 

   Here the eatables were arranged. And there Pandit Moteram had the announcement made through the crier that in the evening in the Town Hall ground Pandit Moteram was going to speak on the political problems of the country and all were invited. People became curious. Panditji always remained aloof from political matters. Today he would speak on these issues. We should go and listen. Panditji was a respected figure in the city. At the appointed time a few thousand people crowded the ground. Panditji went there well prepared. His stomach was so full that it was difficult for him to walk. As soon as he arrived the spectators stood up and greeted him.

   Moteram started, ‘Citizens, tradesmen, seths, and mahajans, I have heard that on an appeal from the congressmen you have decided to go on hartal during the Laat Sahib’s auspicious visit. Isn’t this the height of ungratefulness? If they wanted they could have you blown up by a cannon fire, or have the whole city dug up. They are the rulers, no jokers. They give you so much leeway, take pity on your wretchedness, and you are behaving like the cow that goes on despoiling a field because no one dare touch her. If the Laat Sahib wanted they could stop the train service, the postal service and block the movement of goods. What would you do then? If they wished they could send the whole city to jail. What would you? Where can you run away from them? Do you have a place to hide? So if you have to live in this country and under their rule why do you become such a nuisance? Remember your lives are in their fists. If they let out infectious worms there would be utter chaos in the city. You are trying to stop a storm with a broom. Beware! If you shut your shops I shall stop eating and give up my life right here...’

   One of the spectators expressed his doubt, ‘Maharaj, it would not take less than a month for your breath to go out. Nothing would happen in three days.’ 

   Moteram thundered, ‘Breath does not reside in the body, it resides in the universe. If I wished I could give up my life at this very moment using my yogic powers. I have warned you. Now it is up to you to decide. If you listen to me, you will prosper. If you don’t, you will be guilty of murder and won’t be able to show your face anywhere in the world. Now see, I am going to sit right here.’

3

When this news spread in the city, people were stupefied. This new move by the officials dumbfounded them. The congress workers said: ‘This is nothing but imposture. The agents of the government have bribed the pandit to stage this hoax. When all their strategies failed – the army, the police, the law – they have invented this fraud. This is nothing but the bankruptcy of politics. Otherwise, panditji is not such a patriot that he should sit on fast unto death anguished at the state of the country. Let him die of hunger. He would break down in two days. We must destroy this new move root and branch. If this strategy succeeds, then, let us be clear, the authorities would get a new weapon which they would use again and again. Janata is very naïve and would be taken in by this jackal-howl.’

   But the city’s traders, who generally live in dread of religion, were so rattled that these words had no effect on them whatever. ‘Sahib, we earned the government’s ire because of you, were ready to suffer losses, gave up our living, many of us became bankrupt, became shame-faced before officials. In the past wherever we went we were treated with courtesy by the authorities. Now we are pulled and pushed in the trains and no one listens to us. Whatever might be our earnings, the tax is imposed by the weight of our account books. We have faced all that and will continue to do that. But we cannot accept your leadership in matters of religion. When a learned, highborn, dharma-abiding brahmin is giving up food and water, how can we eat and sleep peacefully. If he dies, how shall we face God?’

   In brief, the congressmen failed to convince them. A deputation of the traders presented itself before panditji at nine o’clock in the evening. Panditji had eaten to his fill but eating like that was not something unusual for him. Ordinarily twenty days in a month he was invited to a feast and eating beyond one’s capacity is something normal. In competition with other invitees, their taunts, also pressed by the hosts, and, above all, tempted by the delicious dishes one has a tendency to overeat. Panditji’s appetite had always been passing such tests again and again. So now, as the time for the meal drew near his conscience was beginning to wobble. It is not that he was troubled by hunger, but when it was meal time his heart began to long for food if his stomach wasn’t on the point of bursting and close to indigestion. That is what troubled shastriji now.  He wanted to call out for some hawker and eat something but the officials had deputed many policemen there for his personal security. None of them was ready to move away. At this moment panditji’s huge brain was trying to figure out how to get rid of these devils. They had deputed these people for no reason. He wasn’t a prisoner who would run away.

   The authorities had perhaps made this arrangement to prevent the congressmen from attempting to drive away panditji. Who knows the tricks they would play? They might let loose a dog upon him, or start throwing stones at him. It was their duty to protect panditji  from such unfair and insulting acts.

   Panditji was caught in this dilemma when a deputation of the traders came to meet him. Panditji, lying on his elbows, straightened up. The leaders touched his feet and said, ‘Maharaj, why have you brought this trouble on us? We are ready to submit to your orders. Please rise, and break your fast. We did not know you were going to sit on this fast, or we would have appealed to you earlier. Now please be kind to us. It is 10 o’clock now.  We won’t go against your wishes.’ 

   Moteram replied, ‘The congressmen would ruin you altogether. They would themselves sink and take you along. You would be the losers if the bazaar is shut. How does it matter to the Sarkar? If you give up your job, you would die of hunger. How does it matter to the Sarkar? You would go to the jail and be made to do hard labour.  How does it matter to the Sarkar? I wonder why these people are bent upon cutting their own noses to hurt others. Don’t be misled by these false leaders. Why, wouldn’t you keep your shops open?’

   The seth leading the deputation said, ‘Maharaj, how can we assure you until we have consulted all the people in the city? If the congressmen begin to loot who would come to our aid?  Please get up and eat. We shall let you know our decision tomorrow after consultations with all.’

   Moterram said, ‘All right, then come after your meeting.’

   When the deputation was about to go back in disappointment panditji asked, ‘Has any one got snuff?’

   Someone handed him over a box.

4

Once all the people had departed, Moteram asked the constables, ‘Why do you stand here?’

   They said, ‘Under orders from the sahib. What can we do?’

   Moteram said, ‘You go away.’

   They replied, ‘If we go away, we would lose our jobs. Would you feed us then?’

   Moteram retorted, ‘I say go away. Otherwise I too would go away. I’m not a prisoner that you should stand on guard like this.’

   ‘Go away? How dare you?’

   ‘Why not? Have I committed a crime?’

   ‘All right. Just you try.’

Panditji rose in his brahmanical rage and pushed one of the constables with such force the fellow fell down far away. The other constables lost heart. They had imagined panditji to be a fatty pulp. But when they saw how strong he was they slunk away.

   Now Moteram looked around to find some hawker so that he could buy something to eat. Then he realized if the hawker opened his mouth, people would ridicule him. No, he should do it so cleverly that he is not found out. One’s intelligence is tested on such occasions. In no time he found out the solution to this problem.

   By chance at this very moment he saw a hawker passing by. It was past eleven. Silence reigned all around. Panditji summoned the hawker.

   The hawker said, ‘Tell me what you want. Sure, you’re hungry. Fasting is properly the work of sadhus. It is not for us.’

   Moteram said angrily, ‘Don’t bark. I’m no less than a sadhu. I can, if I wish, remain without food and water for months. I have called you to borrow your lamp. Let me see. I can see something crawling there. I am afraid it might be a snake.’

The hawker handed over the lamp to panditji. Moteram began to move and look here and there on the ground. Then the lamp slipped from his hand and was extinguished and the oil spilled. Panditji kicked it so that any oil left in the lamp was also spilled.

   The hawker held the lamp and shook it and said, ‘Maharaj, there’s not a drop of oil left in this. I would have sold something during this time. Now you have added this problem.’

   ‘Bhaiya, what can I do? It just slipped. Shall I cut off my hands? Here is the money, go and get oil from somewhere.’

   The hawker took the money and said, ‘All right. I won’t come here after buying the oil’

   Panditji said, ‘Keep your box of sweets here. Hurry up and get some oil, otherwise I might be bitten by a snake and the blame will fall on you. There certainly is some animal here. There, see it is creeping. It has disappeared. Run, boy, bring the oil. In the meantime I shall take care of your box. If you suspect me, take your money with you.’

The hawker was caught in a dilemma. If he took out the money from his box, panditji would be offended thinking this man does not trust him. If he left it behind who knows the pandit might turn dishonest. No one remains steadfast in his conduct for ever. In the end, he decided to leave his box there leaving it to fate. As soon as he walked away towards the market, panditji surveyed the box and was disappointed. Not many sweets were left. Only five or six items and there was no chance of pilfering one or two out of these. He might be caught. Panditji thought this small amount would not help. It would only fuel his hunger. It would be like a lion tasting blood. This sin is tasteless. He came and resumed his seat. But after a while he felt the urge again. This would assuage his craving to some extent. However meagre food is after all food. He got up and had just swallowed the first laddu, when he saw the hawker coming swiftly holding the lighted lamp in his hand. It was important to finish off all the sweets before he reached. He quickly put two sweets in his mouth and was still munching them when the devil came very close. He put four items in his mouth and swallowed them whole. The hawker was still at a little distance. He picked up all the remaining sweets and swallowed them. Now he could neither munch them nor swallow them. The hawker was moving towards him like a motor car, holding the lamp. And when he came face to face with him, panditji gulped down all that was in his mouth. But after all he was human, and not a crocodile. His eyes began to water, his body became unsteady and he began to cough. The hawker extended his hand to hand over the lamp. Saying, ‘Take this and look around. You are out here to fast and yet afraid of death. Why worry? Even if you die, the Sarkar would take care of your family.’

   Panditji was so angered that he wanted to give a dressing down to this rogue but he was unable to speak. He took the lamp and pretended to look for something here and there.

   The hawker said, ‘Why did you want to take sides with the Sarkar? Tomorrow there would a day- long meeting and it would be night before something is decided. By then you will begin to see butterlies.’

   Saying this he walked away. And panditji went to sleep after a few bouts of coughing.

5

The next day the traders began their consultations. The congressmen too became active. Members of the peace committee also pricked up their ears. This looked a clever move to browbeat these harmless banias. The pandit-samaj held their own meeting and decided that pandit Moteram had no right to interfere in political matters. What had they to do with politics? With the result the whole day was spent in these debates and no one cared to think of panditji. People were openly alleging that panditji had accepted a bribe of one thousand rupees to sit on hunger strike. Poor panditji passed the night turning and twisting and when he woke up in the morning he felt as if his body had become a corpse. If he stood up he saw darkness in front and his head reeled. It was as if someone was scraping his stomach. His eyes were fixed on the road in the hope that someone would be coming to appeal to him to give up his fast. The time for evening prayer was spent waiting like this. He always ate something after the evening prayer. Today he did not have even a drink of water. Who knows when that propitious moment would arrive? Then he felt angry at the panditayan. She must have eaten her fill and slept. And even now she would be eating something. But she did not care to think of him, whether he was dead or alive. She could have brought some mohan-bhog on the pretext of meeting him. But who cares? She has pocketed the money and would do the same with whatever we get. She has fooled me.

   To sum it up, panditji waited the whole day and yet no one came to persuade him. People thought that panditji had conducted this imposture after receiving a bribe.  The idea that panditji had perpetrated this hoax was preventing them from asking him to give up his fast.

6

 It was nine o’clock at night. Seth Bhondumal, who was the leader of the trader community, said with great determination, ‘Agreed that panditji had taken this step out of a selfish motive, yet this does not reduce the suffering a human being undergoes without food and drink. It is against our dharma that we should sleep peacefully on a full stomach and a brahmin should fast because of us. If he has acted against dharma, he would get punished for that. Why should we turn our backs on our duty?’

    The congress minister said, ‘I have said whatever I had to. You are the community’s leader. We shall accept whatever you decide. All right, I shall accompany you. You would see some semblance of dharma in me too. But I have one request to make: You allow me to go to him all alone and talk to him for ten minutes. You can wait at the gate and come in when I return.’ No one objected and this request was accepted.

   The minister had worked in the police department for long. He had a good understanding of human failings. He straight away went to the bazaar and bought sweets worth five rupees. He had their flavours enhanced, and dressed them up with silver leaf and put in a leaf-bowl. Then he moved to propitiate the angry brahma-dev. He put some cool water in a small earthen pot and mixed it with kewra water. Both the leaf-bowl and the pot were sending out wafts of tantalizing smell. Who does not know the appetizing power of a delicious smell? This makes even a satiated person feel hungry, not to talk of one who is hungry.

   At this time panditji was lying nearly unconscious on the ground. He had not got anything to eat last night. Those small items of sweets pilfered from the hawker’s box didn’t count at all. He had nothing to eat in the afternoon and now too the time for eating was past. Hunger did not now make him restless out of hope but it made him listless out of hopelessness. His whole body had become limp. So much so that he was unable even to open his eyes. He was trying to open them again and again but they would close by themselves. His lips had become dry. The only sign of life was his soft sighs. He had never faced such a calamity. He would get indigestion two-to-four times in a month but he would bring it under control by swallowing hud-like powders. But even during bouts of indigestion he had never given up eating. He had already showered abuses on the citizens of the town, the peace committee, the Sarkar, God, the congressmen and his wife. He had no hope of help from any of them. And now he did not have the strength to stand up and walk to the bazaar. He was sure he was going to give up the ghost tonight. The life-string is not a rope that would not snap after many pulls.

   Mantriji called out, ‘Shastriji.’ Moteram opened his eyes even as he lay on the ground. His heart was so filled with pain as if a crow had snatched away a piece of sweet from a small boy.

   Mantriji placed the bowl of sweets in front of him along with the water pot. Then he said, ‘How long shall you lie like this?’

   The smell from the pot worked like elixir on panditji. He rose and sat down and said, ‘Let’s see how long it takes to decide.’

   Mantriji said, ‘There won’t be any decision. The meeting went on for the whole day and nothing came out. Laat Sahib would come sometime in the evening tomorrow. Who knows the state you would be in by that time? Your face has become altogether pale.’

   ‘What can one do if I have to die here? Is there any kalakand in the bowl?’

   ‘Yes. There are all varieties of sweets. I had them specially made to be sent as a gift to a relation.’

   ‘That’s why they smell so good. Just open the bowl.’

Mantrji smiled and opened the leaf-bowl. Panditji started eating the sweets with his eyes. Even a blind man, having found his sight, would not watch the world with such fascination. His mouth began to water. Mantrji said, ‘Had you not been on fast I would have let you taste a few. I have bought five sers of these.’

   ‘Then they must be very delicious. I haven’t eaten kalakand for many days.’

   ‘You have brought this trouble on you for no reason. If you die, what use would the money be?’

   ‘What to do? I’m caught in a net. I would have eaten these sweets as a snack.’ Feeling the sweets with his hands he added, ‘Must be from Bhola’s shop?’

   ‘Try a few.’

   ‘How can I? I am bound by my vow.’

   ‘Just try. The pleasure you get at this moment you won’t get even if you get one lakh rupees. No one is going to tell anyone.’

   ‘I’m not afraid of anyone. I’m dying here for food and no one cares. Then why should I worry? Come, give me the bowl. Go and tell them that shastriji has broken his fast. Let the bazaar and the trade be consigned to fire. I don’t care about anything. When no one is following their dharma  why should I be bound by it?’

Saying this panditji drew the bowl towards himself and began to eat with both hands. In no time the bowl was half empty. The seths were waiting at the gate. Mantriji went to them and said, ‘Go and see the fun. Our people would neither have to open the bazaar, nor supplicate before anyone. I have solved all the problems. This is the strength of the congress.’

   It was a moonlit night. People came here and saw that panditji was lost in eating the sweets with the same intensity as a mahatma is lost in his meditation.

   Bhondumal said, ‘Panditji, I touch your feet. We were on our way. Why did you do it in haste? We would have thought of a plan which would have served our purpose without your breaking your vow.’

   Moteram said, ‘My purpose has been served. This kind of joy cannot be obtained even with heaps of wealth. If you care, call for the same amount of sweets from the shop.’

                                                                               --- 

(Madhuri, Hindi, December 1923)