Munshi Premchand's Moving Story: The Death of Sushila
For centuries, our nation has been a cradle of great men and women—rishis, munis, poets, writers, musicians, and countless others who have enriched our heritage. Their creations, numbering in the thousands, remain invaluable treasures.
Today's youth, caught in the digital age, seem to be losing touch with these invaluable legacies. Subkuz.com strives to connect you with these treasures, along with engaging stories, news, and insights into the world.
Presented here is a poignant story by Munshi Premchand, titled:
* Sushila's Death
Three more days passed, and Sushila's chances of survival dwindled. Munshi Sanjivanalal sat by her side throughout, offering comfort. Whenever he left for even a short errand, she would become distraught, weeping and crying out, "You've left me!" Even seeing him close by couldn't soothe her. She would grasp his hand anxiously, questioning with despair, "Have you gone away and left me?" Despite his b character, Munshiji's eyes would well up at her pleas. Fainting spells would frequently overtake Sushila. When she'd regain consciousness, she would look around confusedly, "Where did they go? Did they leave me?" Sometimes, the fainting fits were severe, and Munshiji would repeatedly reassure her, "I'm here, don't worry." But she wouldn't be convinced. She would gaze at him, asking, "Where is he? He's not here! Where did they go?" Later, when she'd recover, she would fall silent and weep. She paid no heed to Virajan, Suama, or Pratap. They were by her side constantly, yet she seemed to recognize only Munshiji. When Virajan would become distraught, placing her hand on Sushila's chest and weeping, Sushila would open her eyes briefly and ask, "Who is it, Virajan?" She asked nothing more. As a dying person focused solely on worldly possessions, a Hindu wife similarly focused only on her husband during her last moments.
Sometimes, Sushila would startle, looking around in wonder, "Who is that standing here? Why are they taking him away? I won't let them! No!" she'd exclaim, grasping Munshiji's hands tightly. In those moments of clarity, she would say gently, "...I was dreaming that someone was taking you away. Look, you are ours, you won't go anywhere. Where will they take you, and how will I see you again?" Munshiji's heart ached. With eyes filled with compassion and affection, he'd respond, "No, I won't leave you. Where would I go without you?" Suama would watch her condition with sorrow, weeping, "Her lamp is about to extinguish." The passage of time had removed any shyness, and she would sit silently before Munshiji for hours. On the fourth day, Sushila's condition improved. Munshiji realized this was her final hour.
Just before a flame flickers out, it often flares up. When Munshiji entered the house after washing his face, Sushila signaled for him and asked, "Give me some water from your hand." She was lucid. She recognised Virajan, Pratap, and Suama. She held Virajan close and wept for a long time. Having drunk the water, she said to Suama, "Sister, lift me up a little so I can touch my husband's feet. When will I be able to see his feet again?" Suama, weeping, supported her. Pratap and Virajan stood nearby. Sushila asked Munshiji to come closer. Overcome with love and compassion, Munshiji embraced her and said softly, "Don't worry. God willing, you will be alright." Sushila replied with resignation, "Yes, I will be alright today. Please bring your foot closer so I can touch it." Munshiji hesitated. Suama cried out, "Bring your foot closer; fulfill her wish." Munshiji complied. Sushila held his feet, kissed them repeatedly, placed her hands on them, and wept. Soon, her tears fell on his feet. The devoted wife bestowed her love upon her husband. After a while, she took Virajan's hand and placed it in Munshiji's, and in a faint voice said, "My husband. I've been with you for a long time and experienced the greatest happiness of my life. Now, our connection is ending. I am now just a fleeting guest. I entrust my dear Virajan to you. This is my last gift. Please always look after her with compassion. My fate did not include the joy of a daughter. I have never spoken unkindly to her or looked at her harshly. This is the fruit of my life. For God's sake, don't lose yourself in grief for her. She choked up on her words. She fainted briefly.
(...continuation of the story in subsequent sections...)
... (rest of the article continues in the same manner... )
