Interesting Story of Munshi Premchand: Captain Sahib
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Here, we present to you a captivating story, penned by Munshi Premchand, titled:
* Mr. Captain
Jagat Singh found school, quinine, and cod-liver oil equally unpleasant. He was a wandering, restless youth, often venturing into mango groves and enjoying the mangoes and the gardener's scoldings with equal relish. Sometimes, he'd cruise the river, accompanying the boatmen to the villages across the river. He took pleasure in these seemingly trivial activities. He never missed an opportunity to steal a moment of fun—imitating a rider's horse, snatching a passing echo, mimicking the gait of the old men. Though not lazy, he was a captive to his vices, and vices, of course, required money. Whenever possible, Jagat Singh would pilfer money from home. If cash wasn't accessible, he wouldn't hesitate to steal utensils or clothes.
The house held glasses and bottles, all of which he meticulously delivered to the Guddi market. Not a single item from the past remained in the home. His dexterity and resourcefulness were remarkable. One time, he boldly scaled the cornice of his two-story house, reaching the roof, and then retrieved a large brass platter. The household was oblivious to his movements.
His father, Thakur Bhakt Singh, was the postmaster of his town. The officials had appointed him to the post after much effort; however, none of his aspirations were realized. Ironically, the benefits of the countryside—free vegetables, firewood, and provisions—disappeared. The established order in his new town was inflexible, allowing neither reprieve nor torment. This frustrating situation deeply irritated Jagat Singh's father. He punished him with great cruelty repeatedly. Despite Jagat Singh's large frame, he would endure these beatings in silence. If he had tried to hold his father's hands, he would likely have been overpowered. But Jagat Singh lacked the strength for such actions. However, beatings, threats, and scoldings had no effect on him.
Whenever Jagat Singh entered the house, a cacophony of complaints erupted, his mother would run in panic, his sisters would hurl insults—as if a wild bull had entered the house. The household's walls seemed to writhe with disapproval at his presence. These rebukes had hardened him, and the weight of experience had rendered him stoic. He would sleep wherever he found a place, eating whatever he could get his hands on.
As the family became increasingly aware of his clandestine thievery, they became more vigilant. There was a time when he went a full month without any food. The opium seller's debts mounted. The cannabis vendor's demands grew more insistent. The sweet shop owner began insulting him. Jagat Singh’s situation became unbearable. He lived in constant fear, but no trap was set.
Finally, one day, a household cat's broken howl announced an opportunity. Thakur Bhakt Singh left the post office in the afternoon, placing a life insurance policy in his pocket. He feared some prankster might steal it; however, upon reaching home, he couldn't remember placing the envelope in his pocket. Jagat Singh, ever watchful, was monitoring his every move. Driven by greed, he searched his pocket and found the envelope. It contained postage stamps. Jagat Singh had often stolen and sold stamps at a reduced rate. He quickly snatched the envelope and fled. Had he known the envelope contained money, he might have left it alone. But as he tore open the envelope and saw the banknotes spill out, he faced a crisis. He started blaming himself for his recklessness, much like a hunter who accidentally targets an innocent man while hunting birds.
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