Premchand scholarship is very much a work in progress. Textual research on him has remained bogged down by the lack of availability of original manuscripts. Scholars have tried to gather works from journals and magazines in Urdu and Hindi, and in the process committed errors because of logistical or linguistic inadequacy.26 These journals and magazines often operated on a shaky and tight budget and had very little or no editing rigour. Mistakes of the calligrapher, compositor or proofreader often went unchecked and undetected, and thus became part of the text. All this makes it difficult to arrive at a definitive version of the text. On our part, too, there is no claim to finality, only an assertion that all efforts have been made to collate texts from different sources to arrive at the final version. We request discerning scholars and readers to bring any errors and inadequacies in our versions to our notice, however grave or trivial they may be, so that they can be corrected in later editions.
New Delhi
November 2017
M. Asaduddin
Works cited
Asaduddin, M. (ed). Premchand in World Languages: Translation, Reception and Cinematic Representations. New Delhi: Routledge, 2016.
Gopal, Madan. Munshi Premchand: A Literary Biography. Bombay: Asia Publishing House, 1964.
Hansen, Kathryn and David Lelyveld (eds). A Wilderness of Possibilities: Urdu Studies in Transnational Perspective. New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2005.
Orsini, Francesca (ed). The Oxford India Premchand. New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2003.
Rabassa, Gregory. If This Be Treason: Translation and Its Dyscontents, a Memoir. New York: New Directions, 2005.
Rai, Alok and Mushtaq Ali (eds). Samaksh: Premchand ki Bees Urdu–Hindi Kahaniyon ka Samantar Paath. Allahabad: Hans Prakashan, 2002.
Rai, Amrit. Premchand: A Life. Translated from the Hindi by Harish Trivedi. Bombay: People’s Publishing House, 1982.
Rai, Amrit (ed). Vividh Prasang, Allahabad, 1978.
Roadarmel, Gordon C. The Gift of a Cow: A Translation of the Classic Novel Godaan. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002.
Venuti, Lawrence (ed). The Translation Studies Reader. Second edition, New York & London: Routledge, 2002.
Premonition
It was a moonlit night. A pleasant breeze blew in the beautiful garden. Lying in his large terrace, Kunwar Amarnath told Manorama, ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll come back soon.’
Looking at him helplessly, Manorama said, ‘Why don’t you take me along?’
‘You’ll have a tough time there. I’ll be all over the place all day long. It’s a hilly region, all jungle and wilderness, there’s no village for miles together. To top it all, there’s the fear of ferocious beasts. You won’t be able to bear it.’
‘You aren’t used to these hardships either.’
‘I’m a man! When the need arises I can face anything.’
‘I too am a woman, when the need arises I can also jump into the fire. To think of women as delicate is a figment of men’s poetic imagination. They may not be strong but they are so patient and brave that even the most trying of times cannot overpower them.’
Amarnath looked at Manorama adoringly and said, ‘I agree, but something which we’ve believed for so long cannot be erased in a moment. I can never see you in pain, I’ll feel very bad. Look at the splendour of the moon!’
‘Don’t try to distract me. I’m not being stubborn, but my life here will become unbearable. I am in a strange state of mind. When you are not with me, all kinds of doubts creep into my mind. When you go hunting I fear for you lest your horse play the mischief. I wonder whether you’ve got hurt. When it comes to you, I’m always haunted by strange fears.’
‘But I am a hedonist, a pleasure seeker. You do injustice to yourself by wasting so much affection on me.’
Manorama’s eyes said that she understood him better than she understood herself.
Then famine struck Bundelkhand.1 People survived on the bark of trees. Hunger erased the difference between the edible and the inedible. When children were being sold for a pittance, what could be said about animals? It was a busy time for Christian missionaries—their orphanages filled with children who were continuously herded in like sheep. Maternal love was sacrificed for a handful of grain. Amarnath was the manager of the Kashi Seva Samiti. When he read about this in the newspapers, he was deeply anguished. He organized a band of young people of the Samiti and arrived in Bundelkhand. He promised Manorama that he would write a letter to her every day and return as soon as he could.
For a week he kept his word but gradually his letters became rarer. Often the places he visited were very far from post offices. From such places it was impossible to send a daily letter. Manorama became restless with the pangs of separation. She would sit distracted in abject misery, sometimes downstairs, sometimes upstairs, and at other times in the garden. Till she received a letter she would remain fretful. When she received one it was as if rain fell on parched fields.
But when the letters thinned even further, her already wretched heart grew
