Premchand's "Reproach": A Tale of Betrayal and National Crisis

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Reproach

A fierce war raged between Iran and Greece. The Iranians were gaining ground daily, and Greece faced a grave crisis. All business was halted; farmers, once holding plough handles, now grasped sword handles; weighers used spears for weighing. The entire nation prepared for self-defense. Yet, the enemy's advance continued relentlessly. Iran, a nation Greece had conquered many times, now surged forward like a surge of anger. Men were falling in the battlefield, and women grew increasingly despondent with each disheartening report. How could they protect their honour? Fear of death wasn't there, nor was fear of property; the fear was of morality. The victorious Greeks, intoxicated with pride, would gaze at the Greek maidens, touch their delicate bodies, and take them captive! Just imagining this calamity sent shivers down their spines.

Finally, when the situation became dire, countless men and women went to the Delphi temple and asked, "Goddess, why this wrath of the gods upon us? What sin have we committed? Have we not obeyed the rules, offered sacrifices, and kept vows? Why have the gods withdrawn their protection?" The priestess replied, "Even the boundless grace of the gods cannot save a nation from a traitor. There must be a traitor within this land. Until that traitor is slain, this calamity will not cease."

"Goddess, who is this traitor?" "The one from whose house emanates the sound of songs at night, the fragrance of perfumes by day, and whose eyes gleam with the redness of intoxication, is the traitor of the nation." The people asked further questions to identify the traitor, but the goddess offered no answer.

The Greeks began searching for the traitor. Where did the nightly songs emanate from? Twilight enveloped the city in silence; where sounds arose, they were cries, not laughter or songs. Where did the aromatic flames emerge from by day? Who had the leisure to clean houses, to burn incense? Most labourers had gone to war; even laundry was neglected; who perfumed and decorated? Red eyes were seen; but these were not the redness of intoxication, but the redness of tears. Dust swirled around the wine shops. Amidst this life-and-death struggle, who could think of luxury?

Days passed. Horrific news arrived from the battlefield every moment, consuming the people's spirit. It was midnight. Darkness enveloped the city, resembling a graveyard. No figures were visible. Lionesses roared in the theatres where not even a grain of sand could fit. Owls hooted in the marketplaces where boisterous young men once displayed their weapons. Neither singing nor playing echoed in the temples; gloom descended on the palaces. An old Greek, whose only son was in the war, left his home and, driven by unknown thoughts, walked towards the temple of the Goddess. There was no light along the path, each step a stumble; yet he pressed on. He resolved to receive the goddess's blessing of victory, or to lay his life at her feet.

Suddenly, he stopped. There was the temple of the Goddess, and a sweet melody was echoing from a house behind it. He was amazed. Who was celebrating a festivity in this deserted place? Wings seemed to grow under his feet; he hurried to the temple's back. The sounds of songs were coming from the house where the temple priestess lived! The old man stood, bewildered, before the window. Darkness under the lamp! Darkness behind the temple of the Goddess! The old man peered through the door; inside, a brightly decorated room with candles burning in sconces, a spotless floor, and a man seated at a table, singing. A bottle and cups of wine sat on the table. Two slaves stood before the table, carrying trays of food, from which pleasant scents rose.

The old Greek cried out, "This is the traitor! This is the traitor!"

The temple walls echoed, "Traitor!"

A voice came from the garden, "Traitor!"

The temple priestess, emerging from the house, said, "Yes, traitor!"

This traitor was the priestess's son, Pasanius. He used to leak information about the strategies designed for the nation's defense, the plans to subdue the enemy, to the Iranians. Every move of the army reached the Iranians, allowing them to prepare in advance to thwart these efforts. This was the reason the Greeks, despite valiant fighting, never triumphed. Using this deceit, he amassed wealth and indulged in luxury. When the nation was facing a grave crisis, he betrayed his country for his desires. He cared about nothing but his pleasures. Whether the nation lived or died, or people lived or perished, was irrelevant to him. He was willing to enslave his country just to satisfy his wicked selfishness. The priestess was unaware of her son's treachery. She rarely left her dark chamber; she spent her time in prayers and austerities. Lost in her thoughts of the afterlife, she had no knowledge of the world; the deities had cut her off from worldly concerns. Even then, she was still praying in her chamber that her country would prosper. Suddenly, she heard a voice, "This is the traitor! This is the traitor!"

She immediately opened the door and looked outside. Lines of light radiated from Pasanius's room, and musical waves danced on these lines. The ground seemed to slip from beneath her feet, and her heart pounded. God! Is my son a traitor?

Driven by a sudden intuition, she cried, "Yes, this is the traitor!"

A throng of Greek men and women surged forward and stood at Pasanius's door, shouting, "This is the traitor!"

The light in Pasanius's room dimmed, the music ceased; but the crowd at the door grew larger, and again and again, thousands of voices cried out, "This is the traitor!"

... (continues)