Not until my mate Abhishek gave me this book did I learn anything about Munshi Premchand. In all honesty, I haven’t explored much of Indian literature to recognise the juggernauts that Indians themselves recognise. So I’m glad that he got me this book because as good books often do, it allows me to learn a fair heap about culture.
The short stories written by Premchand touch a fair bit of scope of Indian life — superstitions, religions, marriage, poverty, politics, working in menial jobs, having children. Some of these are issues are common even in this day and age, where I live in Malaysia. The stories are applicable and echo the migrant workers who come from the subcontinent.
Out of all the stories, Kafan is perhaps the most impactful as it frustrates you the most — for the poverty that the father and son experienced, and their propensity to alcoholism regardless of the consequences. It is perhaps nobody’s fault that things are the way they are — that society isn’t really able to help poor homeless men of lower castes, and in their own manner, that those whose lives are tied to alcohol and poverty cannot escape from it.
The other story that stuck out for me was “The Two Sisters” about a couple of sisters who try to outdo each other in their domestic lives. One sister seem to be worse off than the other, and the other while doing well isn’t exactly as it seemed. From my personal experience with observing subcontinental culture, there should be a great sense of pride to have made it in life, though this may be something simple as to have a functional family, but there is always the push to flaunt this — and anything you are doing well in. I think this story carves into that aspect of Indian mentality really well.
Another one that is fresh on my mind is “Fine”, where a struggling mother was constantly fined for making small mistakes as a cleaner. One day she had to take her child to work which caused an awkward interaction with her mostly belligerent boss. It is the small struggles of holding to a job and earning meagre salary, that each cent counts towards your family. Though it is a simple story (like most of the stories here), it shows that a little bit of compassion goes a long way. We don’t know the struggle of the lady who’s cleaning the hallway floors in our office after all.
The edition I was given was by the Maple Press, and I couldn’t make out whether it is targeted for those unfamiliar with Indian culture, as there are footnotes to Indian words. I do appreciate this, as I wouldn’t have any clue what phag or thakur could be. However, this book is perhaps the worst edited book that I’ve ever read with tons of misspellings which often interrupts the flow of the story as they are jarring.
The stories are translated from Urdu, but was first published in 1936, way before Indian independence and the time when British presence was still strong. Although there are stories which relate to the interaction with British residents, such as in “Intoxications”, the colonial element isn’t strong in most of the stories. The book is a good avenue to Indian literature and criminally overlooked.
