Rajhath: A Powerful Story by Munshi Premchand

Interesting story of Munshi Premchand: Rajhath

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Presented before you is a treasured story by Munshi Premchand, titled:

Rajhath

It was the day of Dussehra, and Achलगढ़ was buzzing with festive preparations. In the public court, apsaras graced the place of royal ministers. Horses neighed in the dharmshalas and sarais. The royal servants, both high and low, gathered in the public court, ostensibly to deliver provisions, but in reality, to simply be there. Pundits, priests, and mahants sat in the private court, engaged in their recitations. No royal officials were present. Due to a lack of ghee and puja materials, morning prayers were performed in the evening. The lack of supplies meant that pundits used what little ghee and fruits they had in the sacrificial fire for the puja offerings.

King Devmal was a spirited and wealthy ruler. He lavishly spent his resources on this annual festival. A famine had struck, and half the kingdom's population had perished from hunger. Fever, cholera, and plague claimed thousands of lives yearly. The kingdom was impoverished; hence there were no schools, hospitals, or proper roads. During the rainy season, the royal residence became a swamp, and in the dark nights, homes were shut tight against the night. Walking on the dark roads was dangerous. These hardships, and many more, were accepted, yet the annual celebration of Durga Devi was deemed an absolute necessity. The kingdom’s prestige was at stake. The kingdom could collapse, the palace could be destroyed, but this festival must continue. Kings and nobles from surrounding regions were invited, their tents creating a city of marble for miles, bustling with activity for weeks.

However, Prince Indermal harbored no enthusiasm for the king's extravagant ways. He was a remarkably serious and straightforward young man. A courageous warrior, he would face death with a smile, yet his bravery was unsullied by bloodlust. He would not harm defenseless birds or animals; his sword would not be drawn against the weak. He took great joy in advocating for the poor, protecting the orphaned, and helping the destitute. His two years of higher education at the Indore College had ignited an exceptional zeal within him, pushing him beyond conventional boundaries. At twenty-four years of age, the tall, handsome prince, raised amidst opulence, untouched by worry, seemed to find joy in laughter.

It was unusual for such a virtuous individual, with a manly face free from the yellowing and wrinkles of worry, to exist. The auspicious day of the festival was approaching, with only four days remaining. The festival preparations were complete, needing only minor adjustments here and there. It was the afternoon watch, and the king was in his residence listening to a group of chosen apsaras sing. The king found a sense of joy not only in their sweet voices but in the notion that these songs might incite the political agent. He would close his eyes and revel in this imagined joy.

This profound happiness would surpass even the melodious tunes of Tansen. Unintentionally, the king's voice uttered, "Wah-wah!" Astonishingly, he would probably get up, shake hands with the prince, and praise his selection. Prince Indermal, dressed in simple attire, then appeared before the king, bowing his head respectfully. The king's eyes lowered in shame, but the prince's arrival at this juncture was inopportune. The king motioned for the singers to leave.

Prince Indermal spoke, "Your Majesty, will my plea be entirely disregarded?"

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