Friends, our country has been the birthplace and abode of numerous virtuous individuals for centuries – sages, poets, writers, musicians, and many more. The thousands of creations composed by these great personalities are invaluable. Today's youth, in this digital age, seems to be losing touch with their heritage and these precious treasures. subkuz.com consistently strives to bring you these invaluable treasures alongside entertaining stories, news, and information from India and around the world. Presented here is one such invaluable and inspiring story by Munshi Premchand.
The Orphan Girl
Seth Purushottamdass, after inspecting the Saraswati Pathshala in Poona, was leaving when a girl ran and caught hold of his garment. Sethji stopped and, looking at her affectionately, asked, "What is your name?"
The girl replied, "Rohini."
Sethji lifted her into his arms and said, "Did you receive any prize?"
The girl looked at him with a childlike seriousness and said, "When you leave, I feel like crying. Take me with you."
Sethji laughed and said, "I have to go a long way, how will you manage?"
Rohini lovingly put her arms around his neck and said, "Wherever you go, I will go too. I will be your daughter."
The madrasa official stepped forward and said, "Her father passed away a year ago. Her mother sews clothes and barely makes ends meet."
Sethji had a very compassionate nature. Hearing this, his eyes welled up. In that innocent plea was a pain that could melt even the hardest heart. The desperation and orphanhood couldn't have been expressed more poignantly. He thought, "What aspirations will this little heart have? Other girls show off their toys, saying, 'My father gave this to me.' They come to the madrasa with their fathers, go to fairs with them, and talk about their interesting experiences. Hearing all this, this innocent girl must also wish she had a father. A mother's love has depth and spirituality that children cannot fully grasp; a father's love brings joy and excitement, which children readily understand."
Sethji lovingly hugged Rohini and said, "Alright, I will adopt you as my daughter. But you must study diligently. It's dismissal time now; come with me, I will take you home."
Saying this, he seated Rohini in his motorcar. Rohini looked at her friends with great confidence and pride. Her large eyes sparkled with joy, and her face bloomed like a moonlit night.
Sethji took Rohini for a long tour of the market and bought her many things, some to her liking, some to his – until Rohini grew tired of talking and fell silent. She had seen and heard so much that she was overwhelmed. By evening, they reached Rohini's home. Alighting from the motorcar, Rohini felt some relief. The door was closed; her mother had gone to deliver clothes to a customer. Rohini began to unpack her gifts – beautiful rubber toys, sugar dolls that chimed when gently pressed, and Rohini was overjoyed with this sweet music. There were bundles of silk clothes and colorful sarees, but the velvet-embroidered flowers particularly captivated her. She was as happy to receive these gifts as she was anxious to show them to her friends. The beautiful shoes were nice, but where were the flowers like those on her dolls? She had never seen such dolls before. These thoughts filled her heart with excitement, and she began to sing a song in her sweet voice. Sethji, standing at the door, was deeply moved by this pure scene. At that moment, Rohini's mother, Rukmini, appeared carrying a bundle of clothes. Rohini, overwhelmed with joy, leaped and clung to her mother's legs. Rukmini's face was pale, her eyes held longing and desperation, a vivid picture of silent worry, with no support in life.
But when she lifted Rohini into her arms and kissed her lovingly, a glimmer of hope and life appeared in her eyes for a moment. The wilted flower bloomed. She said, "Where were you for so long? I went to the school looking for you."
Rohini exclaimed, "I went to the market in a motorcar. I brought many nice things from there. Look who's standing there!"
Her mother glanced at Sethji and shyly lowered her head.
Reaching the veranda, Rohini got down from her mother's lap and went to Sethji, innocently asking for reassurance, "Are you my father?"
Sethji lovingly said, "Yes, you are my dear daughter."
Rohini looked at him with pleading eyes, "Will you stay here every day?"
Sethji stroked her hair and replied, "If I stay here, who will do my work? I will come to see you sometimes, but I will send you nice things from there."
Rohini looked a little sad. Meanwhile, her mother opened the house door and quickly tucked away the dirty bedding and torn clothes in a corner so that Sethji wouldn't see them. This is a special characteristic of women with self-respect.
Rukmini was now wondering how she could show hospitality. She had heard Sethji's name; her husband always praised him. She had heard many stories of his kindness and generosity. She considered him a deity in her mind. She never expected that her house would one day be graced by his presence. But now, when this auspicious day had arrived by chance, she was not even able to offer him a seat. There was no betel leaf or cardamom in the house. She could not hold back her tears.
Finally, when darkness fell and the sounds of bells and drums from the nearby Thakurdwara began, he said in a slightly louder voice, "Baiji, I am leaving now. I have much work to do here. Make sure Rohini is comfortable. I will come to see her whenever I get a chance. I am responsible for her upbringing, and I will do it with great pleasure. Don't worry about her anymore. I have arranged for her allowance, and this is the first installment."
Saying this, he took out his beautiful wallet and placed it before Rukmini. Tears streamed down the poor woman's face. She felt compelled to grab his feet and cry. Today, after many days, the voice of a true sympathizer had reached her heart.
When Sethji left, she bowed her head in respect. A prayer arose from the depths of her heart: "You have shown mercy on a helpless person; may God reward you for it."
The next day, when Rohini went to school, her bright, adorned eyes shone with happiness. The teachers showered her with affection, and her friends looked at each of her things with wonder and longing. Fine clothes brought a sense of self-respect. Today, Rohini was no longer the poor girl who used to look at others with wistful eyes. Now, every action of hers exuded childish pride and playfulness, and her tongue never stopped for a moment. Sometimes she talked about the speed of the motorcar, sometimes about the excitement of the market, sometimes about the well-being of her dolls, and sometimes about her father's love. Her heart was full of joy.
A month later, Seth Purushottamdass again sent gifts and money for Rohini. The poor widow was relieved of her worries about livelihood thanks to his kindness. She also came to school with Rohini, and both mother and daughter studied in the same class, but Rohini always scored higher than her mother. When Sethji came to Poona, he always came to see Rohini, and his arrival brought enough joy and entertainment to last for months.
Several years passed, and Rohini entered the beautiful green fields of youth, while her innocent childish ways began to show signs of purpose and intention.
Rohini was now the pride of her school, both internally and externally beautiful. There was an attractive seriousness in her demeanor, a musical flow and spiritual essence in her words. Her clothes were colorfully simple, her eyes modest, her thoughts pure. She was youthful, yet free from arrogance, artifice, and frivolity. She possessed a focus born of high ideals. She steadily progressed towards the heights of feminine excellence.
Sethji's eldest son, Narottamdas, after years of studying at universities in America and Germany, returned after achieving great success in the engineering department. He had received an honorary position at the most prestigious college in America. American newspapers were amazed by the spectacular success of this young Indian. A grand celebration was held in Bombay to welcome him. People came from far and wide to attend this festival. Saraswati Pathshala also received an invitation, and Rohini was specially invited by Sethani Ji. Preparations lasted for weeks at the school. Rohini had no peace for a moment. This was the first time she had fine clothes made for herself. There was sweetness in her choice of colors, and a perfect fit in the tailoring that made her beauty shine. Sethani Kaushalya Devi was present at the railway station to receive her. As soon as Rohini got off the train, she bowed at her feet, but she embraced her and showered her with affection as if she were her own daughter. She kept looking at her, her eyes overflowing with pride and love.
For this celebration, a large shamiana was erected in a beautiful green field by the sea. On one side was a sea of men; on the other, the waves of the sea were surging, as if participating in the joy.
When the people present heard the news of Rohini Bai's arrival, thousands of people stood up to see her. "This is the girl who passed the Shastri examination this time. We must see her. Such gems still exist among the women of this country." Such conversations started among the simple-hearted patriots. Many prominent women of the city came and hugged Rohini, discussing her beauty and clothes amongst themselves.
Finally, Mr. Purushottamdass arrived. Although it was a grand and serious celebration, the eagerness to see her reached the point of frenzy. A stampede ensued. Rows of chairs were disrupted. Some stood on chairs, some on the arms. Some mischievous people grabbed the ropes of the shamiana and hung on them. This chaos continued for several minutes. Chairs broke, chairs overturned, some fell on top of others, some fell down. There was a lot of pushing and shoving among the more enthusiastic people.
Then came the sweet sounds of the been. Rohini, along with her group, began a patriotic song. All those present were completely silent, and at that moment, that melodious raga, its softness and purity, its impactful sweetness, its enthusiastic voice, was creating a kind of intoxication in their hearts that raised waves of love, which erased evil from the heart and created unforgettable memories of life. When the song ended, not a single word of praise was heard. Only the notes echoed in their ears.
After the song, felicitations were offered by various organizations, and then Narottamdas stood up to thank the people. But the audience was slightly disappointed by his speech. In the company of friends, his eloquence knew no bounds, but as soon as he stood before a public gathering, both words and thoughts seemed to desert him. He managed to utter a few words of thanks with great difficulty and then, with a self-deprecating acknowledgment of his inadequacy, returned to his seat. Many people shook their heads wisely at his incompetence.
Now the time came for the function to end. The silk garland sent by Saraswati Pathshala was lying on the table. Who would place it around the hero's neck? The president looked towards the row of women. His choosing gaze fell on Rohini and rested there. Her heart began to beat fast. But it was necessary to obey the order of the chairman of the celebration. With a bowed head, she came to the table and, with trembling hands, picked up the garland. For a moment, their eyes met, and Rohini placed the garland around Narottamdas's neck.
The next day, the guests of Saraswati Pathshala departed, but Kaushalya Devi did not let Rohini go. She said, "I'm not tired of looking at you yet; you must stay here for a week. After all, I am your mother too. So much love from one mother and so much separation from another!"
Rohini couldn't answer.
Kaushalya Devi spent the entire week preparing for her departure. On the seventh day, she came to the station to see her off. As she left, they embraced, and even with much effort, Kaushalya could not hold back her tears. Narottamdas had also come. His face was sad. Kaushalya looked at him with sympathetic eyes and said, "I didn't even think about it – will Rohini go alone from here to Poona? What harm is there? You go; come back on the evening train."
A wave of joy ran across Narottamdas's face, which could not be hidden in these words: "Okay, I will go." He was worried whether he would even get a chance to talk to her about her departure. Now he would fully express his heartfelt feelings and, if possible, dispel the shyness hidden behind her indifference.
Rukmini was now worried about Rohini's marriage. Discussions about it were taking place among the neighborhood women. "The girl has become so sensible; will she get married in her old age?" Proposals came from several places, some from prominent families. But when Rukmini sent those proposals to Sethji, he would reply, "I am also concerned." Rukmini found his procrastination upsetting.
A month had passed since Rohini returned from Bombay. One day, when she returned from school, she found a letter on her mother's cot. Rohini began to read: "Sister, since I saw your daughter in Bombay, I have fallen for her. Now I have no peace without her. Will I be so fortunate that she can become my daughter-in-law? I am poor, but I have convinced Sethji. You also accept my request. I may not be able to put your daughter on a bed of flowers, but every member of this family will treat her as the apple of their eye. Now, about the boy. A mother doesn't usually speak highly of her son. But I can say that God has created this pair with his own hands. In appearance, nature, knowledge, in every aspect, he is worthy of Rohini. You can take your time deciding. Reply soon. What more should I write?" Below, in a few words, Sethji had recommended the proposal.
Rohini put her hands on her cheeks and began to think. The image of Narottamdas appeared before her eyes. Their love, which had not broken off from Bombay to Poona, echoed in her ears. She took a deep breath and lay down on the cot sadly.
Once again, scenes of decoration and cleaning were visible in Saraswati Pathshala. Today was Rohini's wedding day. Evening time, the pleasant season of spring. The walls of the school were smiling, and the lush garden was overflowing with flowers.
The moon came out from the east with its wedding party. At that very moment, the sweet raga of Mangalacharan began to ripple in that silvery moonlight and gentle breeze. The groom arrived, and everyone was astonished upon seeing him. It was Narottamdas.
The groom went under the mandap. Rohini's mother couldn't control herself; she immediately fell at Sethji's feet. Tears of love and joy flowed from Rohini's eyes.
A sacrificial fire was lit under the mandap. The havan began, the fragrant smoke rose into the air, and the entire field became fragrant. A sense of freshness and excitement filled the hearts and minds of the people.
Then came the rituals. The bride and groom exchanged sacred words of sympathy, responsibility, and loyalty. The blessed chain of marriage was placed around their necks. It had weight, strength, and restrictions, but with the weight came happiness and with the restrictions, trust. At that moment, a new, powerful, spiritual energy was felt in both hearts.
When the wedding ceremonies were over, the time for dancing and singing arrived. Captivating songs echoed. Sethji was exhausted. To take a breather, he went into the garden and sat on a bench. A cool breeze was blowing. A tranquil peace, creating a kind of intoxication, enveloped everything. At that moment, Rohini came to him and clung to his feet. Sethji lifted her up, hugged her, and laughed, "So, now you have become my own daughter?"
This was an inspiring story by the great writer Munshi Premchand. We learn many new things from this story. The entire subkuz team constantly strives to bring inspiring stories to our visitors daily. Keep reading such inspiring and enlightening stories on subkuz.com.
