Friends, our country has for centuries been the birthplace and home of numerous great personalities brimming with virtues – sages, poets, writers, musicians, and many more. Thousands of creations composed by these great individuals are invaluable. Today's youth, in this digital age, seems to be losing touch with this rich heritage, drifting farther and farther from our precious treasure trove. subkuz.com consistently strives to bring you these invaluable treasures, along with entertaining stories, news, and information from India and 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 officer stepped forward and said, "Her father passed away a year ago. Her mother sews clothes and barely makes ends meet."
Sethji possessed a very compassionate nature. Hearing this, his eyes welled up. In that innocent plea was a pain capable of melting even the hardest heart. The anguish of helplessness and orphanhood could not have been expressed more poignantly. He thought, "What aspirations might reside in this tiny heart? 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 interests. Hearing all this, this innocent girl must also yearn for a father. A mother's love has depth and spirituality that children cannot fully grasp; a father's love has joy and excitement that children understand perfectly."
Sethji lovingly hugged Rohini and said, "All right, I will adopt you as my daughter. But you must study diligently. It's dismissal time now; come with me, I'll 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 the moonlit night.
Sethji took Rohini for a long stroll through the market and bought many things, some according to her choice and some according to his, until Rohini, becoming somewhat tired from all the talking, fell silent. She had seen and heard so much that her heart was full. By evening, they reached Rohini's home. Stepping out of the motorcar, Rohini felt some relief. The door was closed; her mother had gone to deliver clothes to a customer. Rohini began to examine her gifts – beautiful rubber toys, sugar dolls that chimed when gently squeezed, a sound that filled Rohini with delight. There were bundles of silken clothes and colorful sarees, but the velvet embroidered flowers captivated her most. She was as happy to receive these gifts as she was eager to show them to her friends. "The beautiful shoes are nice, but where are the flowers like those?" she thought. "She has never even seen dolls like these!" These thoughts filled her heart with excitement, and she began to sing a song in her enchanting voice. Sethji, standing at the door, silently enjoyed this touching scene. Just then, Rohini's mother, Rukmini, appeared carrying a bundle of clothes. Rohini, overcome with joy, leaped and clung to her mother's legs. Rukmini's face was pale, her eyes reflecting longing and helplessness, a vivid picture of silent anxiety, of a life without support.
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 withered flower bloomed. She said, "Where were you so long? I went to the school looking for you."
Rohini excitedly said, "I went to the market in a motorcar. I brought many nice things from there. Look who is standing there!"
Her mother glanced at Sethji and shyly lowered her head.
Reaching the veranda, Rohini got down from her mother's lap, went to Sethji, and innocently asked her mother for reassurance, "Are you my father?"
Sethji lovingly said, "Yes, you are my dear daughter."
Rohini looked at him with pleading eyes and asked, "Will you stay here every day?"
Sethji smoothed her hair and replied, "If I stay here, who will do the work? I will come to see you sometimes, but I will send you nice things from there."
Rohini became somewhat sad. Just then, her mother opened the door and quickly tucked away the worn bedding and torn clothes into a corner so that Sethji might not see them. This is a special trait of women with self-respect.
Rukmini was now wondering how she could possibly 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 god in her heart. She never imagined that her home would ever be graced by his presence. But now, on this auspicious day, she felt unworthy even to offer him a place to sit. There was no betel leaf or cardamom in the house. She could not hold back her tears.
Finally, as darkness fell and the sounds of bells and drums from the nearby temple began, he said in a slightly louder voice, "Baiji, I am leaving now. I have much work to do here. Let Rohini have no worries. When I get a chance, I will come to see her. I will take care of her upbringing, and I will do it with great joy. Don't worry about her anymore. I have arranged an allowance for her, 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. Her heart yearned to grasp his feet and weep. Today, after so many days, the voice of a true sympathizer had touched her soul.
When Sethji left, she offered a respectful namaste with both hands. A prayer arose from the depths of her heart: "You have shown mercy to a helpless woman; may God reward you for it."
The next day, when Rohini went to school, her sparkling eyes reflected her happiness. The teachers showered her with affection, and her friends looked at each of her possessions with wonder and longing. Fine clothes bring a sense of self-respect. Today, Rohini was no longer the poor girl who used to look at others with pleading eyes. Now, every action of hers exuded a childlike pride and playfulness; her tongue did not stop for a moment. Sometimes she talked about the speed of the motorcar, sometimes about the excitement of the market, sometimes about 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 outperformed her mother. When Sethji came from Poona, he would always come to see Rohini, and his arrival would bring months' worth of happiness and entertainment.
In this way, several years passed, and Rohini entered the beautiful meadow of youth, while her innocent childhood manners acquired a new meaning and purpose.
Rohini was now the pride of her school, both internally and externally beautiful. Her expressions had an attractive seriousness, her speech a lyrical flow and spiritual charm. Her clothes displayed colorful simplicity, her eyes modesty, and her thoughts purity. She possessed the grace of youth but was free from vanity, artifice, and frivolousness. She had a single-mindedness born of high ideals. She steadily pursued 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 field. He had received an honorary position at one of America's most prestigious colleges. American newspapers were amazed at the brilliant 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. The Saraswati Pathshala also received an invitation, and Rohini was specially invited by Sethani Ji. Preparations went on for weeks at the school. Rohini was restless. It was the first time she had fine clothes made for herself. There was sweetness in her choice of colors, elegance in the tailoring, which made her beauty shine. Sethani Kaushalya Devi was waiting 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 love as if she were her own daughter. She kept looking at her, her eyes overflowing with pride and affection.
For this celebration, a large marquee 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 ocean surged, as if participating in the joy.
When the attendees heard the news of Rohini Bai's arrival, thousands of people stood up to see her. "This is the girl who has just passed the Shastri exam. We must have a glimpse of her. Such jewels still exist among the women of this country." Such remarks were heard among the simple, patriotic people. Several prominent women of the city came and embraced Rohini, discussing her beauty and her clothes.
Finally, Mr. Purushottamdass arrived. Although it was a very polite and serious ceremony, the eagerness to see her reached a frenzied level. A stampede ensued. Rows of chairs were disrupted. Some stood on chairs, some on the arms. Some mischievous people grabbed the ropes of the marquee and hung onto them. This storm continued for several minutes. Some chairs broke, some overturned, some people fell on top of others, and some fell down. There was pushing and shoving among the more enthusiastic people.
Then came the sweet sounds of the veena. Rohini, along with her group, began a song steeped in patriotism. All those present were silent, and at that moment, the melodious tune, its softness and purity, its impressive sweetness, its enthusiastic voice, created a kind of intoxication in their hearts, evoking waves of love, erasing evil from the heart, and creating memories of a lifetime. When the song ended, not a single voice of praise was heard; only the notes lingered in their ears.
After the song, felicitations were offered by various organizations, and then Narottamdas stood up to thank the people. But his speech caused some disappointment. In the company of his friends, his eloquence knew no bounds, but as soon as he stood before a public gathering, both his words and thoughts betrayed him. With great difficulty, he uttered a few words of thanks and then, with a self-deprecating acknowledgement of his inadequacy, returned to his seat. Many people shook their heads knowingly, commenting on his ability.
Now it was time for the function to end. The silken garland sent by the Saraswati Pathshala lay on the table. Who would place it around the hero's neck? The president glanced at the row of women. His eyes fell on Rohini and rested there. Her heart pounded. But it was necessary to follow the instructions of the chairman of the ceremony. She came to the table with bowed head and picked up the garland with trembling hands. For a moment, their eyes met, and Rohini placed the garland around Narottamdas's neck.
The next day, the guests of the Saraswati Pathshala departed, but Kaushalya Devi did not let Rohini go. She said, "I am not tired of seeing 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 could not reply.
Kaushalya Devi spent the entire week preparing for her farewell. On the seventh day, she came to the station to see her off. While leaving, she embraced her and, despite trying hard, could not hold back her tears. Narottamdas also came. His face was sad. Kaushalya looked at him sympathetically and said, "I didn't even think about it – will Rohini go alone from here to Poona? What harm is there? You go, and return by the evening train."
A wave of joy swept over Narottamdas's face, which could not be hidden in these words: "All right, I will go." He was worried whether he would get a chance to talk about their farewell. Now, he would express his heart's feelings and, if possible, remove the shyness hidden behind the veil of indifference.
Rukmini was now worried about Rohini's marriage. The neighborhood women were discussing it. "The girl has become so wise; will she get married in her old age?" Proposals came from several places, some from very prominent families. But when Rukmini sent those proposals to Sethji, he would only reply, "I am myself worried." Rukmini found this delay 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, ever since I saw your daughter in Bombay, I have been charmed by her. I cannot rest without her. Will I be so fortunate that she can become my daughter-in-law? I am poor, but I have convinced Sethji. You too 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's description of her son never sounds good. But I can say that God has made this pair with his own hands. In appearance, nature, and knowledge – in every aspect, he is worthy of Rohini. You can take your time and decide. Send your reply soon. What more can I write? Below, in a few words, Sethji has recommended the proposal."
Rohini put her hands on her cheeks and started to think. The image of Narottamdas appeared before her eyes. Their loving conversations, which had not stopped from Bombay to Poona, echoed in her ears. She took a deep breath and lay down on the cot sadly.
Once again, the scenes of decoration and cleaning were visible in the Saraswati Pathshala. Today was Rohini's auspicious wedding day. Evening time, the pleasant weather of spring. The walls of the school were smiling, and the lush garden was brimming with joy.
The moon, with its retinue, emerged from the east. At that very moment, the auspicious raga of Mangalacharan began to ripple in that silvery moonlight and gentle breeze. The groom arrived; upon seeing him, people were astonished. It was Narottamdas.
The groom went to the mandap (wedding canopy). Rohini's mother could not control herself; she immediately fell at Sethji's feet. Tears of love and gratitude flowed from Rohini's eyes.
A havan-kund (sacrificial fire) was made under the mandap. The havan started, fragrant smoke rose into the air, and the whole field became fragrant. A feeling of freshness and excitement filled the hearts and minds of the people.
Then came the rites of marriage. The bride and groom exchanged sacred words of sympathy, responsibility, and fidelity. The blessed chain of marriage was placed around their necks; it had weight, firmness, and restrictions, but along with the weight, there was happiness, and along with the restrictions, there was trust. Both hearts felt a new, powerful, spiritual strength at that moment.
When the wedding ceremonies ended, it was time for the singing and dancing. Enchanting songs echoed. Sethji was exhausted. To rest for a while, he went into the garden and sat on a bench. A cool breeze was blowing. A peace that created intoxication prevailed everywhere. At that moment, Rohini came to him and clung to his feet. Sethji lifted her, hugged her, and laughed, "What, are you my own daughter now?"
So, this was an inspiring story by the great writer Munshi Premchand. We learn many new things from this story. The entire subkuz team strives to bring our visitors inspiring stories every day. Keep reading such inspiring and enlightening stories on subkuz.com.
