Amazing Stories of Munshi Premchand: Thakur Ka Kuan
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Here is a captivating story by Munshi Premchand, titled:
* Thakur Ka Kuan
Jhokhu brought the lota to his mouth, and the water had a foul odor. He said to Gangi, "What kind of water is this? It's unbearable! My throat is parched, and you've given me rotten water!"
Gangi routinely collected water in the evening. The well was far away, and frequent trips were difficult. Yesterday, the water had no odor, but today it was foul. He brought the lota to his nose, and indeed, the water reeked. Surely, some animal had died in the well, but where else could he find water?
Who would allow anyone to draw water from Thakur's well? Villagers would scold them from afar. The Sahu's well was at the other end of the village, but who would let someone draw water there? There wasn't another well in the village.
Jhokhu had been unwell for several days. For a while, he endured the thirst, but eventually, he said, "I can't take this thirst any longer. Let me drink some water, even if I have to close my nose."
Gangi refused to give him the water. She knew that drinking contaminated water would worsen his illness, but she did not know that boiling the water would remove the impurities. She said, "How can you drink this? I don't know what animal has died. I'll fetch you clean water from elsewhere."
Jhokhu looked at her in astonishment, "Where will you get more water?"
Thakur and Sahu had wells. Why couldn't they let her collect water from one of them?
"They'll break your arms and legs, and it won't be worth it. Just stay quiet. The Brahmins will bless you, Thakur might beat you, and Sahu will take five rupees. Who understands the pain of poverty? Even if we die, no one even looks at us, let alone offer a shoulder. Would such people allow us to draw water from their wells?"
These words held a bitter truth. What answer could Gangi give? However, she would not give him the foul water.
It was nine o'clock at night. Exhausted laborers were asleep, and ten or fifteen idlers gathered outside Thakur's door. It was neither the time nor the place for courage. They discussed legal matters. How cleverly Thakur had obtained a copy of a specific court case. The registrar and the bailiff stated that the copy couldn't be obtained. Some demanded fifty rupees, others a hundred. Yet, here, without money, the copy was obtained. Things require a proper approach.
At that moment, Gangi arrived at the well to fetch water.
The dim light of the oil lamp illuminated the well. Gangi waited, hidden among others, aware that the entire village depended on this well. No one was allowed to draw water for them, only these unfortunate people.
Gangi's rebellious spirit began challenging the conventions and constraints—Why are we considered inferior, and why are they superior? Is it because they wear sacred threads? Here, each and every one of them is a disgrace. They commit theft, fraud, and file false cases. This very Thakur stole and killed the shepherd's sheep the other day. Gambling goes on at the very homes of the pandits for months on end. Sahu adulterates ghee with oil and sells it. They take the work, but pay us nothing even if our grandmother is dying. In what way are they superior to us? We wouldn't shout from the rooftops, saying 'We are superior'. We are merely looked down upon by everyone when we visit the village. As if vipers were crawling on everyone's chests, yet they are arrogant about being superior!
A sound indicated someone approaching the well. Gangi's heart pounded. If they caught her, it would be disastrous. She couldn't take the risk. She lifted the pitcher and rope, moved quietly, and stood beneath the shade of a tree. When will these people have compassion for anyone? The unfortunate Mahgu was beaten so severely that he spat blood for months. Why was he punished, for refusing forced labour? Is that how they become superior?
Women had come to the well to fetch water. They were conversing.
"They went to the feast and ordered fresh water, but there was no money for the pitchers."
"It's as if the men resent seeing us relax."
"Yes, it was not that they themselves filled the pitchers. They simply ordered fresh water, as if we were mere women."
"What else are you, if not women? You don't get food or clothing. Even if you seize and grab ten or fifteen rupees, you are still women."
"Don't shame us, sister! We are left with only a sliver of a rest. If we did someone else's work elsewhere, we could rest more comfortably. Yet, they'd feel entitled. Here, you can work yourself to death, but nobody looks at you with respect."
After fetching the water and leaving, Gangi emerged from the tree's shade and approached the well's opening. The idlers were gone. Thakur was also about to retire to his courtyard. Gangi took a moment of relief. The scene had cleared up somehow. Even the prince who went on a quest to acquire the nectar of immortality might not have been so careful and prudent.
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