The Biography of Famous Personalities of India will tell you about the controversies, the dark sides of a person that you may have never heard of.
Life at Bombay and Last Days of Munshi Premchand
Life at Bombay
If brothers don’t help each other in times of need, how do you think life will ever go on?
Premchand, who sincerely believed that there was no medium more potent than the film for the propagation of ideas in a country where the masses were illiterate, was offered ₹ 750 by the Mahalakshmi Cinetone for the film rights of his Seva Sadan; and even though he was warned that the film producers would “disgrace” his novel, his condition was so bad that he had jumped at it. As he said: “If in this grave situation I had not got this amount, God alone knows how difficult it would have been to face the problems.”
But Premchand’s financial position had showed no improvement, and, if anything, it had further deteriorated. He was, therefore, happy when the Ajanta Cinetone of Bombay invited him to go over to Bombay and write scenes for them. The basis of the offer was not salary, but a contract of ₹ 8,000 a year. The Cinetone sent him two telegrams. Premchand’s circumstances were so straitened that either he had to accept this offer, or sell his novel in the open market.
The film company did not insist on regular attendance and he thought he could write whatever he liked and write it anywhere he liked. All that would be required of him was to produce three or four scenes for them, he thought, after a year’s work with the Ajanta Cinetone, he could arrive at an arrangement under which he could write three or four stories for them every year (from Benares) and get about four to five thousand rupees which would help him tide over the financial difficulties of Hans and Jagaran.
Premchand conferred with his wife: “My needs tell me I must go to Bombay. This may be a new experience in life.” Her first reaction to the proposal was adverse, “Your digestion is weak,” she said, “and Bombay’s climate won’t suit you.”
Ultimately, on 31 May 1934, Premchand arrived in Bombay to try his luck in the Hindi film industry. He had accepted a script writing job for the production house Ajanta Cinetone, hoping that the yearly salary of ₹ 8000 would help him overcome his financial troubles. He stayed at Dadar, and wrote the script for the film Mazdoor (The Labourer).
The film, directed by Mohan Bhawnani, depicted the poor conditions on the labour class. Premchand himself did a cameo as the leader of labourers in the film. Some influential businessmen managed to get a stay on its release in Bombay. The film was released in Lahore and Delhi, but was banned again after it inspired the mill workers to stand up against the mill owners.
The film, ironically, inspired the workers of his own loss-making press in Benares to launch a strike, after they were not paid their salaries. Premchand’s Saraswati Press, by 1934-35, was under a heavy debt, and Premchand was forced to discontinue the publication of Jagaran. On the other hand, Premchand was beginning to dislike the non-literary commercial environment of the Bombay film industry, and wanted to return to Benares. However, he had signed a one- year contract with the production house. But he ultimately left Bombay on 4 April 1935, before the completion of one year. The founder of Bombay Talkies, Himanshu Roy, tried to convince Premchand to stay back, but did not succeed.
While in Bombay, Premchand attended the Rashtrabhasha Sammelan held on October 27, 1934. In fact, he delivered the welcome address as the Chairman of the Reception Committee, in which he dwelt on “some problems of national language.”
As these form a part of Premchand’s credo, it is important to mention a few points made by him. Owing to the vastness of the country, he said, India needed a language which could be understood and spoken all over the country in the same manner as German was in Germany and French in France. National language provides a cementing force. Without it the cameo as the leader of labourers in the film. Some influential ‘ businessmen managed to get a stay on its release in Bombay. The film was released in Lahore and Delhi, but was banned again after it inspired the mill workers to stand up against the mill owners.
The film, ironically, inspired the workers of his own loss-making press in Benares to launch a strike, after they were not paid their salaries. Premchand’s Saraswati Press, by 1934-35, was under a heavy debt, and Premchand was forced to discontinue the publication of Jagaran. On the other hand, Premchand was beginning to dislike the non-literary commercial environment of the Bombay film industry, and wanted to return to Benares. However, he had signed a one- year contract with the production house. But he ultimately left Bombay on 4 April 1935, before the completion of one year. The founder of Bombay Talkies, Himanshu Roy, tried to convince Premchand to stay back, but did not succeed.
While in Bombay, Premchand attended the Rashtrabhasha Sammelan held on October 27,1934. In fact, he delivered the welcome address as the Chairman of the Reception Committee, in which he dwelt on “some problems of national language.”
As these form a part of Premchand’s credo, it is important to mention a few points made by him. Owing to the vastness of the country, he said, India needed a language which could be understood and spoken all over the country in the same manner as German was in Germany and French in France. National language provides a cementing force. Without it the country would break up, provincialism become stronger and throttle nationalism, and we would revert to the position which prevailed before the British appeared on the scene in India. It was a matter of deep regret that, except for Gandhiji, none in this country had appreciated and emphasised the need for a national language. He said :
“Those who wish to make India a nation will have to evolve a national language also. The task is so stupendous in magnitude that it is necessary to have all-India organisation which should recognise its importance and think out ways and means to propagate it.”
The most important factor in the development of national language, according to Premchand, was its comprehensibility among the largest number of people, no matter in which province they lived.
Last Days
We all have to die some day. Not very many immortals have shown up in this world.
Premchand, after leaving Bombay, wanted to settle in Allahabad, where his sons Sripat Rai and Amrit Rai were studying. He also planned to publish Hans from there. However, owing to his financial situation and ill-health, he had to hand over Hans to the Indian Literary Council and move to Benares. In 1936, Premchand was elected as the first President of the Progressive Writers’ Association in Lucknow.
Godan (The Gift of a Cow, 1936), Premchand’s last completed work, is generally accepted as his best novel, and is considered as one of the finest Hindi novels. Godan is a well- structured and well-balanced novel which amply fulfills the literary requirements postulated by the Western literary standards. Unlike other contemporary renowned authors such as Rabindranath Tagore, Premchand was not appreciated much outside India.
The reason for this was absence of good translations of his work. Also, unlike Tagore and Iqbal, Premchand never travelled outside India, studied abroad or mingled with the renowned foreign literary figures.
Premchand, in 1936, also published Kafan (Shroud), in which a poor man collects money for the funeral rites of his dead wife, but spends it on food and drink.
Those days, the Book Market was slack. Hans still suffered losses. So did the Saraswati Press. On June 15, 1936, there was no printing paper in the press. In the hot sun and the scorching wind, therefore, Premchand went around the town to arrange for the supply of paper-on credit. When he returned home four hours later, in the evening, he felt exhausted and complained of stomachache. The pain did not subside. It aggravated. He felt uncomfortable and took no food. That night he vomited three times and was bedridden.
Almost all known homoeopathic and allopathic medicines were tried, but his condition continued to deteriorate. Within – a few days, he became so weak that it was difficult for him to stand on his legs. And it was in this condition that he heard the news of Maxim Gorky’s death. Such was the admiration in which he held the Russian writer, that, according to his wife, he could not sleep. At two o’clock in the morning she saw him scribbling with tears in his eyes.
“What are you writing at this hour?” she asked.
“Nothing in particular,” he replied.
“But you are writing something.”
“Yes, there is to be a meeting in the office of Aaj day after tomorrow to condole Maxim Gorky’s death and I must pay my tribute.”
“You are not well. And yet you are busy writing.”
“But I cannot sleep. This tribute must be written.”
“How can you write it when you are not well?”
“But this is very important. It must be done. When one is working at one’s own will, one is oblivious of discomforts. When you consider yourself duty bound to do a thing, there are no obstacles.” He continued to write.
Premchand’s literary work on his sick-bed and his worries about the future of Hans undoubtedly worsened his condition. The doctors had, obviously, given him up. On the morning of October 7, 1936 he had severe diarrhoea. By the time night came, he was already in shear agony and almost dehydrated. Jainendra Kumar was there with him.
“In this condition, Jainendra, people think of God,” said Premchand, uttering the words with difficulty. “I also have been advised to do likewise, but I haven’t yet been able to persuade myself to bother Him.”
He mentioned the burden on his mind—the future of his wife and children, and the future of Hans, its hopes and its aspirations to serve Indian literature. More expressive than his words were his gestures and his eyes. The principal problem worrying him clearly was how to keep Hans going and the vacuum to be left behind, should it close down. The thought that the journal might be closed down was unbearable. He was not prepared to bend and compromise. He wanted someone to assure him that Hans would live.
But Jainendra Kumar could hold out no such hope. Indeed, over this issue, he entered into an argument with Premchand. The latter watched listlessly.
“Press here,” said Premchand, stretching out his arm, at the dead of night, every-one else in the house having gone to sleep. Jainendra pre-ssed his arm.
“Jainendra …” said Premchand.
He did not complete the sentence.
A long pause … and then: “Ideals won’t do.”
“But ideals …” said Jainendra.
The sentence wasn’t completed. Jainendra felt remorseful and guilty for entering into an argument with a man about to die.
“Don’t argue,” said Premchand, turning on his side and closing his eyes once again.
“It’s warm,” he said a little later, “please fan me.”
Premchand was fanned, but he couldn’t sleep. He was in great agony. He did not cry; he only lay with his eyes closed. At three o’clock in the morning of October 8, he told Jainendra to go to sleep.
In a state of half- concisouness later in the morning, he asked for some tooth powder and water to cleanse his mouth. Before these could be brought to him, he could neither move nor speak.
“Won’t you cleanse your mouth?” asked his wife …
Her brother caught her hand and told her he was no more.
It was on October 8, 1936 when Premchand died after several days of sickness.
The bright light that had lit millions of hearts in all parts of India, had gone out. The life of the master storyteller who had given joy and happiness to countless people, who had carried on a ceaseless campaign for political freedom and social reform, who had given a voice to the dumb and mute dwellers of rural India, had become a story himself, and his name has remained a legend for ever.
Premchand’s last published story was Cricket Match, which appeared in Zamana in 1938, after his death.