Godan

Munshi Premchand

Description

'Godan' is an epic in Hindi prose. It is the most famous work of Munshi Premchand. 'Godan' gives a vivid picture of the condition of Indian farmers during the author's lifetime. The novel is relevant today because the rural folks' problems still exist. Farmers have generally been exploited by money-lenders, government officials and superstitious community members. Hori, a well-off cultivator, suffers for his dependence on these exploiters. He works very hard, grows various crops, yet starves with his family because almost all his crops are given away to clear the creditor' dues. His efforts to protect his family dignity but fails because he was continuously exploited.

Informations

• Publié par: Diamond Books
• Date de parution: 19 juin 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9789350837061
• Langue: English

Extrait

Godan

eISBN: 97-893-5083-706-1
© Publisher
Publisher: Diamond Pocket Books (P) Ltd.
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Website: www.diamondbook.in
Edition: 2011
Godan
By - Munshi Premchand
Chapter One
H oriram served fodder to his two cows and addressed his wife, Dhania - Send Gobar to plough the sugarcane fields. I may return late. Hand me my lathi quickly.
Dhania had both her hands soiled with cow-dung. She had just returned after making cakes out of cow-dung. She said - What is the hurry? Have some drink or light food.
Hori frowned and all the wrinkles of his forehead creased together when he retorted - Here you are bothered about eating and I am worried that if there is a delay, I will not be able to meet the Master. If he starts his schedule of bathing and daily oblations and prayers, I will have to wait for hours together.
- That is why I want you to take some food before you go. Besides, what loss will you incur if you don’t go today? It’s just the day before yesterday that you had been there.
- Why do you always meddle in affairs which you don’t understand? Give me my lathi and see to your chores. It is the fruit of these good relations that we are living in peace. Otherwise no one would have known where we have disappeared. There are so many people in the village who have faced Eviction Orders and Attachment. When our necks are shoved and throttled under someone else’s feet, it is rather better to tickle his heel.
Dhania was not all that diplomatic. She was of the opinion that since they had also tilled the fields of the zamindar, he could at the most claim taxes. Then why should they flatter him or be a toady to him? In these twenty years of her married life, she had realised one thing for sure, she may scrimp or scourge every penny, live a niggardly life without proper food or clothes, collect every elusive penny, it was impossible to square up the taxes of the zamindar. Yet she never conceded defeat and there was a debate between the husband and the wife every second day on this issue. Out of her six children only three survived. The eldest was the son, Gobar, who was eighteen years of age followed by Sona, who was twelve and the youngest was Rupa, who was eight years old. Her other three sons had died in their early childhood. Even today, she felt that had they received proper medical care, they would have survived but she had not been able to nurse them with medicines. And what would be her age of now? She was running her thirty-sixth year but her hair had started greying and her face looked matured with wrinkles. Her body had shrivelled and her once beautiful complexion had paled on the darker side and even her eyesight had gone weak. It was the worries of livelihood that she could never derive any pleasure out of life. This permanent and incessant struggle had made her dejected and a pessimist and diminished her self-esteem. The household which could not provide even two proper meals a day demanded so much effort! Her heart continuously revolted against these circumstances and it was only after a few reprimands from her husband that she would again associate with reality.
She sulked and dropped before him his lathi, quilt, shoes, turban and the small tobacco-bag.
Hori glared at her and said - Do you think that I am going to my in-laws’ place that you have brought all these embellishments? And there is no youthful sister- in-law there whom would I impress showing off my best.
A smile flashed across the dry, parched and dark face of Hori.
Dhania grimaced a little shyly-As if you are a seemly handsome man that the ladies at your in-laws should fall for you!
Hori carefully folded the torn quilt and kept in on the cot, saying-What do you think, have I grown old? I am yet to reach my forty. Men grow more charming and manly at sixty.
- Go and look at yourself in the mirror. Men like you don’t get dashing at sixty. You never have enough to consume ghee, milk or even apply kajal and you dream of becoming charming at sixty. I get more concerned whenever I cast a glance at you and wonder: Oh God! How will our old age pass? Where will we go begging?
The momentary frivolity of Hori vanished in the light of this stark reality. Taking his staff, he said - We will not reach sixty, Dhania! We will be gone much before that.
Dhania rebuked him -- Alright, stop all this! Don’t utter inauspicious words. You always use harsh words to all the good things I say.
Hori started off from his house putting his lathi on his shoulders and Dhania kept looking at him for a long time from the threshold of their home. His depressing remarks had shuddered Dhania’s wounded heart and sent tremors of terror in her. As if through her entire feminine powers and penance she was enfolding her husband in a shield of protection. A deluge of blessings spurted out from the innermost core which enveloped Hori in its secured folds. It was this relationship which was the only reprieve to her in this ocean of difficulties and struggles and she was trying to cross this ocean holding onto this salvaging course. These horrific words stunned her beyond imagination as if they had presented the reality in all its stark form and tried to snatch even this straw of hope from her hands. The cruel words bore a ring of truth and this multiplied her agony.
Hori was walking fast. Lost in the surrounding nature, he observed that the sugarcane crop swaying luxuriously on both sides of his path and if by the grace of God it rained well this year, he would buy a cow. Not a cow of native, though! They were useless, for neither did they give enough milk nor were their calves of any use. At the most they could be yoked to expel oil. He would buy a cow of foreign pedigree. He would serve it well. It would give four to five seers of milk in the least. How Gobar pines for milk! And this was his age to have good diet. If he gets enough milk for a year together, his personality would become more attractive. The calves too would turn out to be good oxen. The pair of bullocks of this pedigree would be worth rupees two hundred. Then it is the cow tied at the threshold of the house which adds to the glory of the house. How pious it would be, just like visiting a temple if you are able to have a view of the holy cow. Alas! When would this auspicious day come! When his desire would be fulfilled!
Hori too had been cherishing the aspiration to own a cow like any other householder. This was the greatest dream of his life, his highest ambition. How could large dreams like living to relax on bank interest, or buying a plot of land or constructing a palatial building have nestled in his tiny heart!
It was the month of Jaitth and the bright sun had by now risen ascending from behind the cluster of mango trees spreading its radiance over the sublime redness of the morning sky and gradually it was getting hot. The peasants working in the fields on both sides of his path were greeting him and invited him to have a chillum as a token of respect. But Hori hardly had the time for leisure. His gaunt face would beam with pride whenever he got such respect, for it satiated his inner longing for respect. It was the result of his cordial relations with the Masters that people treated him with so much respect. Else what is the worth and standing of a man who owns a meagre five bighas of land? It was no mean achievement that farmers who had three to four pairs of ploughs bowed their heads before him deferentially.
Now he had left the narrow lane running across the fields and reached open space. The place was generally damp and slippery in rainy season as water accumulated there and during summers it had numerous green spots. Cows from the neighbouring villages turned to these pastures for grazing. Even at the peak of summers, this place was cool and fresh. Hori took a few deep breaths. He felt like resting here for a while. As it is, he would be out all the time facing the blasts of heat wave called loo. Many farmers were eager to hire this land but God bless Rai Sahib who took a firm stand that this meadow had been left aloof for grazing animals and would not be sold out in any condition. Had it been a greedy zamindar in our Master’s place, would he have bothered about the cows and left the income that flowed into his way? But Rai Sahib religiously upholds old traditions, even today, in treating his subjects. The Master who does not look after his subjects well, can he be called a proper human?
Suddenly, he noticed Bhola approaching him shepherding his cows. Bhola was a milkman who lived in a settlement attached to this village. He sold milk and butter. At times, he sold cows to peasants if he got a good price. Hori could not hold his heart at the sight of his cows. Only if Bhola would give him the cow which was in the front line, how wonderful it would have been for him! He would pay him by and by. He knew that there was no money in the household. Moreover, he had yet to pay the taxes and he also owed Bishesar Shah the interest on which was mounting at the rate of a quarter per rupee; but yet he feels tempted by the very imprudence which lies obstinately dormant in poverty, the very shamelessness which would not be scared of repeated reminders for return of loan, and abuses for its failure, or of beatings. The wish which was harnessing in his heart for years together, today overpowered him. He went near Bhola and said -- Ram, Ram Bhola bhai! How are you? I heard you have brought new cows from the last fair?
Bhola had made out what was running in Hori’s mind, he replied drily - Yes, two cows and two calves I bought. All my earlier cows had gone dry. How would you survive if you are not able to supply milk to the daily consumers?
Hori stroked the flank of the first cow - It appears to be a good milch cow. How much did you buy it for?
Bhola boasted - The market was qu