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Presented here is one such invaluable story by Munshi Premchand:
Nag Puja (Snake Worship)
It was morning. The first ray of Ashadh had broken through. Insects crawled everywhere. Tilottama looked towards the garden; the trees and plants were rejuvenated, as if clean clothes after washing. A strange spiritual radiance enveloped them, as if yogis were immersed in bliss. The birds were unusually playful, chirping and flitting from branch to branch, leaf to leaf. Tilottama went into the garden. She too became as playful as these birds; sometimes observing a plant, sometimes shaking the water droplets on a flower, sprinkling its cool spray on her face. She saw some creepers; she started picking them and placing them on her palm. Suddenly, she saw a large, black snake slithering. She exclaimed, "Amma (Mother), the Nag (snake god) is going. Let me put some milk in a bowl for him."
Amma said, "Let him go, daughter, he must be out for some air."
Tilottama – "Where do they go in the summer? They are not seen."
Mother – "They don't go anywhere, daughter; they stay in their holes."
Tilottama – "And nowhere else?"
Mother – "Daughter, they are our deities; why would they go anywhere? They've been seen here since the year you were born. They don't speak to anyone. A child may pass close by, but they don't even look. They haven't even caught a single mouse to this day."
Tilottama – "Then what do they eat?"
Mother – "Daughter, they live on air. This makes their souls divine. They remember things from their past lives and know what is to come. When a great yogi becomes arrogant, he is punished by being reborn in this form. He remains in this form until his penance is complete. Some live for a hundred, even two hundred years."
Tilottama – "What if we don't worship it?"
Mother – "Daughter, what kind of childish talk is this? If they get angry, who knows what calamity might befall us! They first appeared the year before you were born. Since then, they appear five to ten times a year. Their influence is such that no one has even had a headache to this day."
Many years passed. Tilottama grew from a girl to a young woman. The auspicious occasion of her marriage arrived. The wedding party came, the marriage took place, and the time for Tilottama to leave for her husband's home arrived.
The new bride was being adorned. There was a bustle inside and outside, it seemed like a stampede. Waves of separation and sorrow were rising in Tilottama's heart. She wanted to sit alone and cry. Today, she would leave her parents, siblings, and friends. She didn't know when she would see them again. She didn't know what kind of people she would have to deal with, what their nature would be, or how they would treat her. Her mother's eyes would never stop weeping. Even if I went away for a single day, she would be distressed with tears. How would she bear this lifelong separation? Her head would ache unless I gently massaged it; she would never get any rest otherwise. Who would prepare betel leaves for her father? Nothing tasted good to him unless I prepared his food. Who would cook for them now? How could I bear to be away from them? Even a slight headache here would worry Amma and Babuji. They would immediately call a doctor. Who knows what the situation will be there.
How will I stay in a closed house? I don't know if there's an open terrace there or not. Even if there is, who will let me sleep? I will suffocate inside. If I wake up late, I'll get scolded. Here, someone would wake me up in the morning, and Amma would say, "Let her sleep. Waking from a light sleep will cause a headache." There, I'll hear taunts, "The daughter-in-law is lazy; she lies on the cot all day." He (her husband) seems very gentle. Yes, he is a little proud. What if his nature turns harsh…?
Suddenly, her mother came and said, "Daughter, I forgot to tell you something. Make sure you continue the Nag Puja there. Even if others in the house object, you must consider it your duty. My eyes were closed for a moment; Nag Baba appeared to me in a dream."
Tilottama – "Amma, I also had a vision of him, but he appeared to me in a terrible form. It was a very frightening dream."
Mother – "See that no one kills a snake in your house. Always keep this mantra with you."
Before Tilottama could reply, the sound of weeping came from the wedding party; in a moment, there was an uproar. A terrible tragedy had struck. The groom had been bitten by a snake. He was coming to take his bride home. A black snake was hidden under the palanquin's seat. As soon as the groom sat down, the snake bit him.
A commotion erupted. It was as if lightning had struck Tilottama. Her mother started wailing, beating her head. Her father, Babuji Jagdishchandra, fainted and fell to the ground. He already suffered from a heart condition. People who performed exorcisms were called, doctors were summoned, but the venom was fatal. In a short time, the groom's lips turned blue, his nails black, and he began to faint. In moments, his body turned cold. Just as the dawn painted the sky, the flickering lamp of his life extinguished.
Like a man sitting on a boat laden with sacks, fretting why it doesn't move faster, complaining about the lack of a comfortable place to sit, and annoyed by the rocking of the boat, thinking he’s wasting his time, suddenly sees the boat caught in a whirlpool and clings to the mast, so it was with Tilottama. Until now, she was immersed in the sorrow of separation, worried about the hardships and disorder of her marital home. But now she realized that I am also sinking with this boat. The man she was perhaps annoyed with a moment ago, whom she considered a robber and a thief, how dear he was now. Without him, her life was a lamp; extinguished. A tree; barren of fruits and flowers. A moment ago, she was the object of others' envy; now, of pity and compassion.
Within a few days, she realized that she had been deprived of all the joys of the world, becoming a widow.
A year passed. Jagdishchandra was a devout man, but he couldn't bear Tilottama's widowhood. He decided to remarry her. Those who mocked clapped, but Babuji Jagdish acted from the heart. The whole family cherished Tilottama. Nothing happened against her wishes; she was made the mistress of the house. Everyone ensured that her grief didn’t resurface. Yet, a sadness remained on her face, causing sorrow to those who saw it. Initially, even her mother didn't agree with this social injustice; but as the opposition from the community intensified, her resistance weakened.
In principle, almost no one objected, but no one had the courage to put it into practice. After months of persistent effort, a well-bred, intellectual, and suitable groom was found. His family also agreed. Tilottama felt pain seeing her name being sold in society. She resented that her father was making a fool of himself for her sake. If a happy life had been written in my destiny, why would this calamity have struck? She sometimes worried that she would become a widow again. When the marriage was finalized and the groom's picture was placed before her, tears welled up in her eyes. How much gentleness, firmness, and thoughtfulness emanated from the portrait. She went to her mother with the picture, bowed her head in shame, and said, "Amma, I shouldn't speak, but the situation is such that I can't remain silent. Please persuade Babuji. I am content with my present state. I fear that the same tragedy will strike again…."
Her mother looked at her with apprehensive eyes and said, "Daughter, what inauspicious words are you uttering? Fear has filled your mind; that's why you have these delusions. What was destined has happened. Will God continue to persecute you?"
Tilottama – "Yes, that's how I feel."
Mother – "Why? Why do you have such doubts?"
Tilottama – "I don't know why. Someone in my mind keeps saying that misfortune will strike again. I often have frightening dreams. At night, I feel that a creature whose appearance greatly resembles a snake is circling my bed. I remain silent in fear; I don't tell anyone anything."
Her mother explained that it was all a delusion. The wedding date was fixed. This was not just Tilottama's remarriage but a practical example of social reform. Social reformers began to arrive from afar to attend the wedding; the wedding took place according to Vedic rites. The guests delivered many lectures. The newspapers published numerous critiques. Babuji Jagdishchandra's moral courage began to be appreciated. On the third day, it was time for the bride's departure.
Every possible precaution was taken in the house. Electric lights made the whole house bright as day. Even an ant crawling on the ground would be visible. There were no wrinkles, creases, or folds in the clothes. Screens were erected around the pavilion. There was no possibility of insects entering from any side; yet, fear prevailed. It was 4 am. The stars were the wedding party's escort as the bride was being sent off. Preparations for the bride's farewell were underway. On one side, shehnais (a type of wind instrument) were playing; on the other, wails were rising. But Tilottama had no tears in her eyes; the time was critical. She wanted to somehow get out of the house. A sword hung over her head. There was no joy in crying and embracing her friends. If a person with a festering wound finds a surgeon's house more appealing than a garden stroll, then what wonder is there?
The groom was awakened. The music started. He was about to sit in the palanquin to take his bride away, but as he put his foot in his shoe, he screamed and pulled it back. It turned out that his foot had landed on embers. They saw a black snake slithering out of the shoe and disappearing in moments. The groom gasped and sat down. Darkness enveloped his eyes.
In a moment, the news spread throughout the house; people ran. Medicines had already been kept ready. Many people who knew the snake mantra were called. Everyone administered medicines. Exorcism began. Medicines were also given, but like death, no one could control it. Perhaps death had come in the guise of a snake. Tilottama heard this and beat her head. Frantically, she ran towards the house; she didn't even bother to cover herself. She wanted to make her life successful by touching her husband's feet to her forehead. The women of the house stopped her. Her mother also tried to console her, weeping. But Babuji Jagdishchandra said, "It's alright; let her go. Let her at least see her husband. Why should this desire remain unfulfilled?" In that sorrowful state, Tilottama reached the house, but there, only the dying man's shallow breaths offered solace; those half-open eyes reflected unbearable agony and terrible despair.
News of this extraordinary event spread far and wide. Materialists were astonished; what was this affair? Devotees of spiritualism nodded knowingly, as if they were seers. Jagdishchandra's fate was sealed. It was decided that the girl was destined to remain a widow. Snake worship began twice a year. A significant change became visible in Tilottama's character. Days of pleasure and enjoyment were spent in devotion and worship. This is the support of the despondent.
Three years passed when a professor from Dhaka University revived this story. He was a zoologist who had extensively studied the behavior of snakes. He wanted to unravel this mystery. He sent a message to Jagdishchandra about marriage. He evaded the matter. Dayaram insisted further. He wrote, "I have decided this for scientific exploration. I want to fight this venomous snake. Even if it comes with a hundred fangs, it cannot harm me; it will die itself after biting me. Even if it bites me, I have such mantras and medicines that I can neutralize its venom in a moment. Please don't worry about this. I am invulnerable to poison." Jagdishchandra could think of no excuse. However, he made a special effort to ensure the wedding took place in Dhaka. Therefore, he went there a week before the wedding with his family. While leaving, they took great care of their trunks, bedding, etc., so that no snake might hide in them. The wedding ceremony took place at the auspicious time. Tilottama was distraught; her expression kept changing, but there were no obstacles in the ceremony. Tilottama went to her husband's house weeping. Jagdishchandra returned home, but he was worried like a man who leaves his open trunk in an inn and goes to the market.
A strange transformation occurred in Tilottama's nature. She laughed and talked with others, ate and drank comfortably, went for walks, participated in theaters and other social gatherings. On these occasions, she treated Professor Dayaram with great affection, taking great care of his comfort. She did not do anything against his wishes. A stranger could say upon seeing her, "If there’s a perfect housewife, it's her." In the eyes of others, this couple's life was exemplary, but their internal state was quite different. As soon as she went to the bedroom with him, her face would contort, her eyebrows would furrow, her forehead would wrinkle, her body would burn like fire, her eyelids would remain open, flames would seem to emanate from her eyes, and a darkness would fall on her face. Although there was no significant outward change, she somehow seemed like a snake-woman. Sometimes, she would even hiss. In this state, Dayaram did not dare to approach her or speak to her. He was captivated by her beauty, but in this state, he felt disgusted by her. Leaving her in this state of frenzy, he would go outside. He consulted doctors, studied many books on this subject himself, but he couldn't understand the mystery; he had to admit his lack of knowledge in physics.
He now found his life unbearable; he regretted his audacity; he had needlessly trapped himself in this calamity. He began to suspect that it must be some supernatural phenomenon! He wasn't a believer in superstition, but where intellect and logic fail, man is forced to become superstitious.
Gradually, his condition became such that he always remained apprehensive of Tilottama. Her frenzy, distorted facial features, did not leave his mind. He feared that she might kill him; he didn’t know when the frenzy would return. This worry tormented his heart. Hypnotism, electricity, and many new therapies were tried. He had great faith in hypnotism, but when even this failed, he became disheartened.
One day, Professor Dayaram had gone to a scientific conference. When he returned, it was twelve o'clock. It was a rainy day. The servants were asleep. He went to Tilottama's bedroom to ask where his food was kept. As soon as he stepped inside, he saw a very large, black snake sitting near Tilottama's pillow. Professor Sahib quietly returned. Going to his room, he drank a dose of medicine and, taking a pistol and a stick, went back to Tilottama's room. He was convinced that this was his old enemy. It had been lurking around for so long and had finally come here. But why does it have such affection for Tilottama? It was sitting by her pillow as if it were a piece of rope. What is this mystery! He had read and heard many amazing stories about snakes, but he had never seen such a curious incident. When he went back into the room armed like this, the snake was gone. However, Tilottama was possessed. She was sitting, staring intensely; flames seemed to shoot from her eyes, their heat reaching two yards. The frenzy was extremely intense at this time. As soon as she saw Dayaram, she pounced on him like lightning, trying to bite him with her teeth instead of striking him with her hands. At the same time, she placed both her arms around his neck.
Dayaram tried his best, using all his strength to free his neck, but Tilottama's embrace became tighter and tighter every moment, like the coils of a snake. On the other hand, he doubted that if she bit him, he might lose his life. The medicine he had just taken was more potent than snake venom. In this situation, he had this sorrowful thought. This is no life; all responsibilities of a husband and wife are burdening him; there is no happiness, only constant fear of death. What is this illusion? Is that snake not a ghost that comes to her and causes this condition? They say that when a blow is struck on a possessed person, it falls on the ghost. There are examples of this in the lower castes. He was pondering this when he began to suffocate. Tilottama's hands were tightening around his neck like a rope. He looked around helplessly; no solution occurred to him. Breathing became difficult; his body weakened, his legs trembled. Suddenly, Tilottama moved her mouth towards his arm. Dayaram trembled; death began to dance before his eyes. He thought to himself – she is not my wife at this moment; she is a venomous, fearsome snake-woman; it is difficult to escape her poison. The confidence he had in his medicine vanished. If a rabid rat bites, life hangs by a thread. Oh God! What a terrifying form! She seems to be a snake-woman. Now, I must end this situation, whether it leads to my death or not. He felt that he was about to fall. Tilottama hissed repeatedly like a snake, sticking out her tongue, and lunged at him. Suddenly, in a harsh voice, she said, "Fool! You dare to embrace this beautiful woman." Saying this, she rushed to bite him.
Dayaram lost his patience. He raised his right hand and shot Tilottama in the chest. Tilottama showed no effect. Her arms became even tighter; sparks seemed to fly from her eyes. Dayaram fired another shot. This shot hit its mark. Tilottama's grip loosened; in a moment, her arms fell, her head drooped, and she fell to the ground.
Then he saw a sight that perhaps even Ali Baba and Chand Kanta could not match. Near the bed, on the ground, a large, black snake lay writhing; streams of blood flowed from its chest and mouth.
Dayaram couldn't believe his eyes. What an amazing supernatural phenomenon! What is the problem? Whom should I ask? Trying to solve this mystery has become a duty of my life. He struck the snake's body with a stick and then brought it into the courtyard, hanging it. No one would have ever seen such a huge snake.
Then he went to Tilottama. He didn't dare to step into the room out of fear. However, the thought that the snake-ghost was dead and her life was saved gave him some comfort. With this hope and fear, he went inside and found Tilottama standing in front of a mirror, combing her hair.
Dayaram felt as if he had found everything. Tilottama's face was radiant. He had never seen her so cheerful. As soon as she saw him, she lovingly went towards him and said, "Where were you so late tonight?"
Dayaram said, overjoyed, "I had gone to a gathering. How are you feeling? Do you have any pain?"
Tilottama looked at him in surprise and asked, "How did you know? I have such pain in my chest, as if it has been burnt."
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