Friends, our country has been a land of birth and action for great people, brimming with qualities like sages, poets, writers, musicians, and more. 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 precious treasures. Subkuz.com constantly strives to bring you these priceless treasures alongside entertaining stories, news, and information about the world. Here, presented before you, is a remarkable and inspiring story by the renowned writer, Munshi Premchand.
The Trident
The night was dark, a torrential downpour lashing against the windows. The room's light, spilling out, created large, pointed, long, and thick drops of rain that fell like arrows. At this moment, even if a fire broke out, I might not have the courage to leave the house. But one such dark and frightening night, thirty years ago, I was on guard in the field, rifle in hand. Ah! How enjoyable those days of army life were. My life's sweetest and most cherished memories are linked to that time. Today, looking at me writing articles for the newspaper in this dim room, who would believe that this frail, hunched, worn-out man once had a spirit like a roaring river of courage and enthusiasm? What friends I had, their faces always adorned with smiles! The memories of the lion-hearted Ram Singh and the sweet-voiced Devidas, can they ever truly fade from the heart? That distant Aden, that Basra, that Egypt - now only dreams. Reality is this cramped room and the newspaper office.
Yes, it was such a dark, frightening, deserted night. I was standing guard over the magazine, drenched in the rain, in front of the barrack. A loaded rifle slung across my shoulder. The sounds of songs from a couple of soldiers near the barrack reached me; and when the lightning flashed, the high mountains, trees, and the lush green plains ahead appeared as if glimpses of joy were reflected in the large, innocent black eyes of a child.
Slowly, the rain intensified into a tempest. Darkness grew deeper, the thunder more terrifying, and lightning flashes more intense. It seemed as if nature was about to devastate the earth with all its might.
Suddenly, I felt a fleeting shadow pass before me. At first, I thought it was a wild animal, but a flash of lightning dispelled that notion. It was a person, a figure shrouded in the rain, disappearing into the darkness. I was surprised that anyone could venture out of the barrack in this deluge, and why? There was no doubt now that it was a human being. I raised my rifle and, in accordance with military procedure, shouted, "Halt! Who goes there?" No reply. Again, as per procedure, I shouted a third time, "Halt! Who goes there?" Still no response. The shadow now stood before me. I realized it was not a man, but a woman. Before I could ask a question, she said, "Sentinel, please be quiet. I am Louisa."
My surprise knew no bounds. I recognized her. It was Louisa, the commanding officer's daughter. But why was she venturing out into this deluge and in this dark, stormy night? A thousand soldiers were present in the barrack who could have carried out her orders. Why was this fragile woman out now, and where was she going? I asked, "Where are you going at this hour?"
Louisa pleaded, "Please forgive me, sentinel. I cannot tell you, and I beg you, do not reveal this to anyone. I will always be indebted to you."
Her voice trembled as if it came from a vessel filled with water.
I responded in a soldierly manner, "This is impossible. I am just a common soldier. I don't have such authority. I am obliged to take you to the sergeant according to regulations."
"But don't you know I am the commanding officer's daughter?"
I replied with a slight smile, "If I were to encounter the commanding officer himself in such a situation, I would have to proceed with the same strictness. The rules apply equally to everyone, and no soldier has the authority to break them."
Hearing this harsh reply, she asked in a sorrowful tone, "Then what can I do?"
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