Friends, our country has, for centuries, been a birthplace and a land of action for great individuals—rishis, munis, poets, writers, musicians, and others, brimming with virtues. The countless creations of these great figures are invaluable. Today's youth, in this digital age, seem lost, and we are drifting further away from our heritage and invaluable treasures. subkuz.com consistently strives to bring you these priceless treasures, along with entertaining stories, news, and information from around the world. Presented before you is one such invaluable and inspiring story by the renowned writer, Munshi Premchand.
Swaimini
Shivdas, throwing the key to the store-room in front of his daughter-in-law, Rampyari, and filling his old eyes with tears, said, "Daughter-in-law, from today, the responsibility for managing the household rests on you. My happiness hasn't been granted by the gods, or else they would have taken away my young son. Someone has to take care of his responsibilities now. If I were to break a plow, our livelihood will be gone. It is my own misdeeds that have brought this wrath of the gods upon us, and I shall bear it on my head. I will now handle Birju's plow. Who else will look after this house, arranging and rearranging things, other than you? Don't cry, dear child, God's will has happened, and whatever he wills will happen. What can we, you and I, do? As long as I live, no one will look at you with ill intent. Don't worry about anything. Birju is gone, but I'm still here."
Rampyari and Ramdulari were two sisters. Both were married to Mathura and Birju, two brothers. The two sisters lived in their in-laws' home with the same love and joy as they had in their natal home. Shivdas received a pension. They spent their days gossiping at the doorstep. He was happy to see their large, complete family and mostly engaged in religious discussions; but, unfortunately, their eldest son, Birju, fell ill, and fifteen days have passed since his death. Now that the rituals are over, Shivdas, like a true warrior, braced himself for the battle of life. However much sorrow he carried within, no one saw him weeping. Today, seeing his daughter-in-law, his eyes welled up for a moment; but he composed himself and began to comfort her, his voice choked with emotion. Perhaps, he thought, by becoming the mistress of the house, I can dry her widow's tears, and she would not have to work so hard. Therefore, he had thrown the key to the store-room in front of her. He wanted to suppress the sorrow of widowhood with the pride of ownership.
Rampyari said with a voice full of emotion, "How can it be, Father-in-law, that you should toil and I should sit as the mistress? I will keep myself busy with work, so that my mind does not dwell on sadness. Sitting idle will only lead to more tears."
Shivdas explained, "Child, there is no control over fate. What good will crying do? There are dozens of tasks at home. If a saint or guest arrives, someone will have to take care of them."
The daughter-in-law tried many approaches, but Shivdas was unmoved.
After Shivdas left, Rampyari picked up the key. A feeling of unprecedented pride and responsibility welled up within her. For a while, the pain of losing her husband faded. Her younger sister and brother-in-law were both out working. Shivdas was away. The house was completely empty. At this moment, she was certain she could open the store-room. Her mind was filled with anticipation to see the treasures and supplies within. She had never been inside this room before. Whenever something needed to be given or taken, Shivdas would open this room. He would then lock it and keep the key on his person.
Rampyari sometimes peeked inside through the cracks in the door, but nothing was visible in the darkness. The room was like a mystery or magic to the entire house, with endless imaginations about its contents. Today, Rampyari had the chance to unravel this secret. She closed the outer door to ensure no one would see her opening the storeroom, and, with trembling hands, opened the lock. Her chest throbbed as she feared anyone might knock. Stepping inside, she found a joy even greater than opening her jewelry box. Jars of sugar, molasses, wheat, barley, and other things were stacked inside. Large utensils, used for weddings and other celebrations or to be given as gifts, stood on one side. Account receipts and financial documents were tied together on a shelf. There was an aura of divinity, as if Lakshmi herself was invisibly present. Rampyari sat in that space for an hour, content and at peace. Gradually, a sense of devotion enveloped her heart. When she emerged from the storeroom, her outlook had changed completely, as though she had been enchanted.
``` (The remaining content will be too large for a single response. I'll provide the rest in subsequent sections, maintaining the original HTML structure.)
