STORIES FOR THE INNOCENT Read online

  BHAVAN'S BOOK UNIVERSITY

  STORIES FOR THE INNOCENT

  BY

  C. RAJAGOPALACHARI

  2022

  BHARATIYA VIDYA BHAVAN

  Kulapati Munshi Marg

  Mumbai – 400007

  © All Rights reserved

  Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan

  Kulapati Munshi Marg

  Mumbai – 400007

  First Published 1964

  Revised New Edition 1967

  Third Edition 1976

  Fourth Edition 1982

  Fifth Edition 1988

  Sixth Edition 1996

  Seventh Edition 2002

  Eighth Edition 2009

  Ninth Edition 2017

  First Digital Edition 2022

  PRINTED IN INDIA

  By Atul Goradia at Siddhi Printers, 13/14, Bhabha Building,

  13th Khetwadi Lane, Mumbai - 400004, and Published by

  P. V. Sankarankutty, Director, for the Bharatiya

  Vidya Bhavan, Kulapati Munshi Marg, Mumbai - 400007.

  E-Mail: [email protected] Web-site: www.bhavans.info

  BOOKS BY

  C. RAJAGOPALACHARI

  PUBLISHED BY THE BHAVAN

  Ramayana

  Mahabharata

  Rajaji's Speeches Vol. I

  Rajaji's Speeches Vol. II

  Hinduism: Doctrine and Way of Life

  Bhagavad Gita

  Stories for the Innocent

  Kural — The Great Book of Tiru-Valluvar

  Upanishads

  Our Culture

  Bhaja Govindam

  Gandhiji's Teachings & Philosophy

  Avvaiar (The Great Tamil Poet)

  Kathopanishad (Tamil)

  Rescue Democracy from Money Power

  Bhagavad Gita (Hindi)

  Upanishads (Hindi-cum-English Edition)

  Bhajagovind (Kannada)

  KULAPATI’S PREFACE

  The BHARATIYA VIDYA BHAVAN - that Institute of Indian Culture in Bombay – needed a Book University, a series of books which, if read, would serve the purpose of providing higher education. Particular emphasis, however, was to be put on such literature as revealed the deeper impulsions of India. As a first step, it was decided to bring out in English 100 books, 50 of which were to be taken in hand almost at once. Each book was to contain from 200 to 250 pages.

  It is our intention to publish the books we select, not only in English, but also in the following Indian languages: Hindi, Bengali, Gujarati, Marathi, Tamil, Telugu, Kannada and Malayalam.

  This is scheme, involving the publication of 900 volumes, requires ample funds and an All- India organization. The Bhavan is exerting its utmost to supply them.

  The objectives for which the Bhavan stands are the reintegration of the Indian culture in the light of modern knowledge and to suit our present –day needs and the resuscitation of its fundamental values in their pristine vigour.

  Let me make our goal more explicit:

  We seek the dignity of man, which necessarily implies the creation of social conditions which would allow him freedom to evolve along the lines of his own temperament and capacities; we seek the harmony of individual efforts and social relations, not in any makeshift way, but within the frame-work of the Moral Order; we seek the creative art of life, by the alchemy of which human limitations are progressively transmuted, so that man may become the instrument of God, and is able to see Him in all and all in Him.

  The world, we feel is too much with us. Nothing would uplift or inspire us so much as the beauty and aspiration which such books can teach.

  In this series, therefore, the literature of India, ancient and modern, will be published in a form easily accessible to all. Books in other literatures of the world, if they illustrate the principles we stand for, will also be included.

  This common pool of literature, it is hoped, will enable the reader, eastern or western to understand and appreciate currents of world thought, as also the movements of the mind in India, which, though they flow through different linguistic channels, have a common urge and aspiration.

  Fittingly, the Book University’s first venture is the Mahabharata, summarized by one of the greatest Indians, C. Rajagopalachari; the second work is on a section of it, the Gita, by H.V. Divatia, an eminent jurist and a student of philosophy. Centuries ago, it was proclaimed of the Mahabharata: “What is not in it, is nowhere.” After twenty-five centuries, we can use the same words about it. He who knows it not, knows not the heights and depths of the soul; he misses the trials and tragedy and the beauty and grandeur of life.

  The Mahabharata is not a mere epic; it is a romance, telling the tale of heroic men and women and of some who were divine; it is a whole literature in itself, containing a code of life, a philosophy of social and ethical relations, and speculative thought on human problems that is hard to rival; but, above all, it has for its core, the Gita, which is, as the world is beginning to find out, the noblest of scriptures and the grandest of sagas in which the climax is reached in the wondrous Apocalypse in the Eleventh Canto.

  Through such books alone the harmonics underlying true culture, I am convinced, will one day reconcile the disorders of modern life.

  I thank all those who have helped to make this new branch of the Bhavan’s activity successful.

  K. M. MUNSHI

  FOREWORD

  Most of these stories were written by Rajaji in Tamil at various times between 1925 and now and appeared in leading Tamil journals. Some of these were translated and published in 1945 by the Hindustan Times under the title ‘The Fatal Cart and Other Stories.’

  The first sixteen stories published in this volume were translated into English by Rajaji’s son, C. R. Ramaswami, who died eighteen years ago, and the rest by Prof. P. Sankaranarayan, excepting Nos.29, 35, 36 and 37, which were written in English by the distinguished author himself. To them all I tender my thanks.

  Translation is a difficult and delicate task and generally the transmutation is from gold into lead. However, I believe, there is enough gold left in this volume, because of the innate excellence of the original. Rajaji is indeed a born and inimitable story-teller.

  K. M. MUNSHI

  PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION

  These pieces, most of them, were written long ago in Tamil for Tamil readers, not for sophisticated critics who have learnt to admire English fiction. When I read them in English, I do not feel sorry I wrote them (the originals.) Most of these stories were written not by an author aspiring to be an author but for furthering the public causes in which he was involved. Some highbrows maintain that stories should be stories and not propaganda. These pieces, most of them, had a purpose but I claim that purpose is inevitable and good. I wrote them for the causes I held dear but I held fast to the skirts of Mother Truth even when writing stories. I have heard it said that one can’t write good fiction unless one sticks to truth. On the whole I believe these stories will do no harm and may do some good.

  Readers going through the many pieces in this collection relating to “untouchables” should remember that these were written at the commencement of the movement for removal of untouchability and uplift of Harijans vigorously started thirty years ago. The position is greatly altered now; only older people may understand what is told in this book about untouchability in those days. Others may take it all as exaggeration for making up a story.

  C. RAJAGOPALACHARI

  CONTENTS

  KULAPATI’S PREFACE

  FOREWORD

  PREFACE TO THE NEW EDITION

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER – 1: ARDHANARI

  CHAPTER – 2: HUNCHBACK SUNDARI

  CHAPTER – 3: THE FATAL CART

  CH
APTER – 4: THE JASMINE FLOWERS

  CHAPTER – 5: SABESAN’S COFFEE

  CHAPTER – 6: A STORY AROUND ASTROLOGY

  CHAPTER – 7: REPENTANCE

  CHAPTER – 8: ROYAPPAN

  CHAPTER – 9: SHANTI

  CHAPTER – 10: DEVAYANI

  CHAPTER – 11: AN ELECTION STORY

  CHAPTER – 12: THE GODS ARRIVE

  CHAPTER – 13: THE INNOCENT CHILD

  CHAPTER – 14: SITARAM

  CHAPTER – 15: CRACKERS

  CHAPTER – 16: JAGADISA SASTRI’S DREAM

  CHAPTER – 17: THE MANGALA-SUTRA

  CHAPTER – 18: THE AWAKENING OF RAJULU CHETTIAR

  CHAPTER – 19: THE WISH OF THE COCONUT TREE

  CHAPTER – 20: INTER –MARRIAGE – OLD STYLE

  CHAPTER – 21: NATESA AIYAR’S FOLLY

  CHAPTER – 22: I WANT CASH

  CHAPTER – 23: RESEARCH ON ADVAITA

  CHAPTER – 24: JUDGE JAYARAMA AIYAR’S PENANCE

  CHAPTER – 25: COOK MUTTANDI

  CHAPTER – 26: THE DEVOTEE WITH THE SPADE

  CHAPTER – 27: THE CONVERSION OF MINISTER SITARAMAIYAR

  CHAPTER – 28: SWAMIYAR NALLI

  CHAPTER – 29: UTTARA KANDA – REVISED

  CHAPTER – 30: A DROP OF POISON

  CHAPTER – 31: THE KILLING OF VALI

  CHAPTER – 32: GUILT WIPED OFF

  CHAPTER – 33: THE “MILK OCEAN”

  CHAPTER – 34: THE PICTURE IN THE PUJA ROOM

  CHAPTER – 35: THE TREE SPEAKS

  CHAPTER – 36: HATS AND SAREES

  CHAPTER – 37: A PAIR OF SANDALS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER – 1: ARDHANARI

  ARDHANARI was a Harijan boy from the village of Kokkalai in Salem district. He went to Delhi with Sri Malkani, Secretary of the Society for the Service of the Untouchables. When Sri Malkani was in South India, he was very pleased with this boy, whom he met at Salem, and immediately decided to take him to Delhi with him. There he put him in a school and looked after him. He spoke to a well – known firm of traders in Delhi and got him a job in their office on sixty rupees a month. As Ardhanari was honest, diligent and had personality, he got on well. He was getting Rs. 150 per month before he was twenty-four, and when, sometime later, a place in a big mill belonging to the same firm fell vacant in Bangalore, they sent Ardhanari there on a salary of Rs.200 a month.

  He spent two happy years in Bangalore. His immediate senior, Govinda Rao, had training in Manchester for two years. He and Ardhanari were of about the same age, and as he liked Ardhanari’s disposition and manners, they become close friends.

  Govinda Rao had a sister called Pankaja. Brother and sister loved each other very much. Their parents had died when the girl was just ten years old, and she was now twenty and unmarried. She and Ardhanari often met as she accompanied her brother when he visited Ardhanari and when the latter came to see her brother. When Govinda Rao found that his sister and Ardhanari seemed to like each other, he was glad. He often asked himself: “Why should not these two marry and settle down here”

  One day Govinda Rao asked his sister, “Pankaja, have you ever thought about your marriage?” “I have no strong feelings on the matter,” she replied. “Then, what about marrying our Ardhanari?” Pankaja showed no objection to being thus questioned, but she evaded the question by talking about something else. Some weeks later, the same matter was broached again, incidentally.

  “Why, Gopu, are you tired of me already? Am I a burden to you?” she said at first and then laughed. Then she began to cry. Girls, especially those who have lost their mothers, are very sensitive.

  “Stupid, don’t talk of being a burden or of my getting tired of you. Just tell me if you care for the idea of marriage. If you say no, that will please me, because then I can always have you with me,” he said and wiped her eyes. Then he said again, “Mother is dead. Who else is there but me to enquire and learn from you what you feel about it?”

  “If it comes about, I shall go through it. But what is the point in discussing it now?” asked Pankaja.

  “You two seem to like each other. And as we have left off caring about caste or family, why should you not marry him” he asked.

  “What indeed have we do with caste? But we do not yet know what he feels about it,” said Pankaja.

  “Don’t worry about that. He must think himself very lucky if he gets someone like you for his wife,” said Govinda Rao. He was sure there was no one to compare with his sister in the whole world.

  When Ardhanari was told about this, his joy knew no bounds. But a minute later his face fell. “But how can that be, Govinda Rao?” he said.

  “Why? What is the trouble?” asked Govinda Rao.

  “What is my caste and what is yours?” said Ardhanari.

  “Oh! The question of caste! Nonsense!” Govinda Rao exclaimed and laughed. “What is a Brahmin? What is a non –Brahmin? We stopped thinking about such things long ago. If you like each other and finally decide to marry, we need not worry about caste.”

  “I belong to the Coimbatore district. I am a Saiva Mudaliar.” That was what Ardhanari had told them. A Saiva Mudaliar is a vegetarian high caste non –Brahmin. Having said this on some occasion out of snobbish fear, he was unable to withdraw it afterwards. He was ashamed to own the truth about his caste. At Delhi, a few knew, but in Bangalore nobody knew his antecedents.

  “What is Pankaja’s wish?” asked Ardhanari.

  “Pankaja seems to like you. Her replies to my questions show that she is willing.”

  “Is it not proper that I should ask her and find out for myself?” said Ardhanari.

  “Yes,” said Govinda Rao.

  Thus the affair was put off. He resolved that he would tell Pankaja the truth, whatever might happen. But later his resolution failed.

  “Why should I go out of my way to tell her this? If I do, Govinda Rao and Pankaja will both hate me. They say that they do not mind caste distinctions. But yet if they come to know that I am a pariah, they will never give their consent. Besides, I shall be considered a liar,” Ardhanari thought within himself.

  Next day he thought the matter over again and went to Govinda Rao’s house intending to disclose the truth. But, again, on the way, he debated within himself, “When we two love each other, what reason is there to consider this caste question? Why should we give any quarter to this injustice? Who created caste? Is it not all a lie? Why should I make so much of it and speak to her about? Why should I speak to her about it and spoil the whole business? They have told me distinctly that they do not care about caste. Why then should I refer to it at all?” He made up his mind to suppress the truth.

  “Pankaja, do you really like me? Shall we get married and live together?” he asked.

  “But do you want to?” said Pankaja.

  Ardhanari’s father Muniappan, his brother Ranga and mother Kuppayee all lived in the Cheri or pariah quarters of the village Kokkalai. Both while at Delhi and at Bangalore, Ardhanari used to send them twenty rupees regularly every month. It was a princely allowance to them, and they lived on it very happily. They did not know what their son was earning, but twenty rupees a month seemed a great fortune to them. Unfortunately, Muniappan had the drink habit. When he began to get money regularly every month, his drinking became worse. Ranga did not like this, but could not prevent it. He was a teacher in a village school and was unmarried. When his mother pressed him to find a wife, he would say, “Not now, wait for some time more,” and always put off the matter.

  Ardhanari, after his transfer to Bangalore, used to visit his people twice a year. When he found his father addicted to drink, he felt ashamed beyond measure. He could not bear the dirt and untidiness of the house. He would stay there for only a day or two and then return as soon as possible.

  “We will go with you, Ardhanari,” his father would say whenever Ardhanari got ready to return to Bangalore.

  “No, indeed. If they see you with me, they will dismi
ss me,” Ardhanari would reply.

  “Yes, father, we people should not go there,’ Ranga would say.

  Because he sent them money regularly, they would not argue much more about it. Thus it went on for some time.

  Ardhanari thought it would be best for him to go somewhere far in the north again, once he was married.

  “Though they are very kind to me if they knew that I am a pariah, things would certainly go wrong. Even supposing they do not mind, yet when they see the life and habits of my father and people, Pankaja would certainly be disgusted. She would not even look at me afterwards.” Ardhanari would talk to himself in this strain again and again, and further strengthen his resolve to hide the truth. He decided to marry as soon as possible and go away to some place in the north. He wrote letters to the directors of the company he served and asked to be transferred to some other mill in North India.

  One day Pankaja quite unexpectedly said, “Ardhanari I want very much to see your mother. My brother and I have both decided that you should take leave for a week and we should all three go and visit Coimbatore, Ootacamund and other places. What do you say?”

  Govinda Rao also said, “There is not much work in the office now. The first week of next month will suit us all very well.”

  Ardhanari’s heart beat fast. “Oh yes, we can do that. But I have a letter today that there is a severe epidemic of cholera in our village,” he said.

  Pankaja was all anxiety on hearing this. “Cholera! Have you asked your people to move elsewhere? Why not ask them to come over here?” she said.

  “I was just thinking of doing so,” said Ardhanari.

  After three days Ardhanari got a letter from Ranga.

  “Blessings to little brother Ardhanari,

  “There is severe cholera here. There have been many deaths. We are afraid. Father continues as before. He does not listen to our advice. The money that you sent this month is all spent. If you can send us thirty rupees we think of locking up the house and going to Salem to stay there till this fear of cholera is over.