Friends, our nation has long been a birthplace and a land of action for great individuals, brimming with qualities like sages, poets, writers, musicians, and more. The thousands of creations crafted by these great figures are invaluable. Today's youth, in this digital age, seem lost, and we are drifting further from our heritage and priceless treasures. Subkuz.com consistently strives to bring you not only these invaluable treasures but also entertaining stories, news, and information about the world. Presented here for you is a truly inspiring story by the renowned writer, Munshi Premchand.
New Neighbors' Acquaintance
Munshi Sanjeevanlal, who had rented Suvama's house, was a man of deep thought. Previously, he held a prestigious position, but due to his independent spirit, he couldn't maintain the necessary relationships with officials. Even compelled by their displeasure, he resigned. Having accumulated some capital during his employment, he turned to contracting upon leaving his job, and through hard work, he amassed considerable wealth in a short time. His income was no less than four or five hundred rupees monthly. He possessed such practical wisdom that any endeavor he undertook yielded profit, never loss.
Munshi Sanjeevanlal's family was not large. Though God had blessed them with many children, at this time, the only one who held the place of pride in their parents' eyes was their daughter. Her name was Vrjarani. She was the heart of the couple's world.
Pratapchand and Vrjarani developed a friendship from the very first day. Within half an hour, they were chattering like birds. Virjan showed her dolls, toys, and musical instruments, while Pratapchand showcased his books, pens, and drawings. Virjan's mother, Sushila, embraced Pratapchand and showered him with affection. From that day onwards, he visited every evening, and they played together. It seemed as if they were siblings. Sushila would hold both children in her arms and lavish them with affection, spending hours gazing at them, often with Virjan visiting Pratap's home as well. Suvama, weary with troubles, found solace in seeing her, embracing her, and finding amusement in her innocent chatter.
One day, Munshi Sanjeevanlal returned home to find Pratap and Virjan seated on chairs in his office. Pratap was engrossed in a book, while Virjan was attentively listening. As soon as they saw him, they stood up. Virjan ran into her father's arms, and Pratap stood with his head bowed to one side. What a remarkable child he was! Though his age was barely more than eight years, his future brilliance was evident in his character. His face was radiant, his lips were crimson, his gaze intense, and his hair the color of deep ink. He was dressed impeccably. Munshiji said, "Come here, Pratap."
Pratap approached cautiously, hesitantly. Munshiji embraced him as a father would, and asked, "What book were you reading?"
Pratap was about to speak when Virjan interrupted, "Papa, there were wonderful stories. Why, Papa? Did birds used to speak like us before?"
Munshiji smiled and replied, "Yes, they did. They spoke a lot."
Before he could elaborate, Pratap, now free of his shyness, spoke, "No, Virjan, these stories are made up to make you forget about them."
Munshiji laughed heartily at this bold contradiction.
Now, Pratap began chattering like a parrot: "The school is so big, it could hold everyone in the city! The walls are so tall, like palm trees! Baldev Prasad hit the ball so hard that it went up into the sky! The big teacher's table has green cloth spread on it, with glasses full of flowers. The Ganges is blue. It flows so powerfully that even mountains would be swept away by it. There's a holy man there. The train runs, swoosh! The engine goes click-clack! Steam powers the engine, and that's what makes the train go. You can even see the trees running with the train."
In this way, Pratap shared many things, in his innocent words, while Virjan sat quietly, like a picture. She had been on a train a few times, but she had never known how it was created or why it moved. She had even asked her teachers about it, but they had just replied, "Child, God is a great, b horse that pulls so many trains swoosh!" When Pratap fell silent, Virjan put her hands around her father's neck and said, "Papa, we will read Pratap's book too."
Munshiji- "My dear, you read Sanskrit, it's a language."
Virjan-"Then I will also learn a language. There are so many wonderful stories in it. My book has no stories. Why Papa, what is learning?"
Munshiji began to think about what studying actually meant. It had never really crossed his mind before. Just then, Pratap spoke, "I see someone reading, that's what learning is."
Virjan-"Don't I study? Isn't my studying called learning?"
Virjan was studying Siddhanta Kaumudi, but Pratap said, "You are like a parrot, just memorizing."
And so ends this inspiring story by the great writer, Munshi Premchand. This story teaches us many new things. The entire team at Subkuz strives to provide our visitors with inspiring stories every day. Continue reading such inspiring and educational stories on Subkuz.com.
