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Unit 21: Premchand: Godan: Detailed Study of the Text


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          humanism does, exclude the possibility  that spirituality can play a constructive role.  Grand  Notes
          ideologies, such as nationalism, or forms of spirituality that are excessively ritualised or politicised,
          are shown to constrain the self from its full potential. The moments of awakening and self-
          awareness among many characters in the novel come precisely at the moment where they shed
          their ideological shells. Matadin, as we have seen, discovers the possibility of an authentic self by
          casting off the identity given to him from birth, an identity that required only external conformity,
          and creating an identity anew from his own personal, ethical, and spiritual choices. Malati has a
          similar moment of awakening when she unravels herself from the preconceived ideological grip
          of Feminism and nationalism and devotes herself—as an individual act of choice—to serving the
          people with her medical training. Dhaniya’s decision to provide refuge first to Jhuniya and then
          to Siliya is transformed from one motivated by shame and external pressure to one of individual
          conscientious choice.
          And then there is Hori. As we have already seen, Hori, too, has his own moment of individual
          enlightenment, but he also does something more than merely introspect. Perhaps more than any
          other character in the novel, Hori continually strives—even in the face of overwhelming adversity—
          to renovate the cultural, social, and political architecture of his world in ways that would render
          them simultaneously meaningful, relevant, and just. Hori is not interested in the language of
          revolutionary destruction, class conflict, or social levelling. Instead, he strives for the one thing he
          finds lacking nearly everywhere he looks: respect, both self and mutual. Hori seeks this respect
          not in the rhetoric of any grand ideology but rather in the face-to-face interactions of civil society.
          His search for meaning is an all-consuming project, and in the end it quite literally costs him his
          life. And yet we should not read Hori’s death as a pathetic example of futility, or of a life lived in
          vain; rather, Hori’s passing is itself a final act of rebellion. In Hori’s mind, anyone—regardless of
          ritual or social status—should be entitled to a dignified life and a dignified death. To fight for
          anything less would render existence meaningless. The moment of Hori’s passing thus becomes
          not a definitive ending but merely another milestone in an ongoing struggle for justice and meaning.
          Hori’s last  Godan  is not an act of failure but an act of open-ended  defiance against all that is
          corrupt and unjust. In many ways, Premchand’s own Godan was no different.







          41. In hindsight, many of Premchand’s earlier stories also emphasise the responsibility of the self and glimpses
             of the difficulties that self-awakening will necessarily create on the way to enlightened liberation. In ‘Sirf ek
             Avaz’ (Only One Voice) (1913), Prem. Rac. 11: 286–91, Thakur Darshan Singh decides to embark upon a life
             that embraces caste equality from untouchable to Brahmin, citing the exemplary resolve and suffering of the
             Christian missionaries who do not let caste stand in the way of their work and wondering why Indians are
             not doing the same. No one in the village joins him. In ‘Mantra’ (Mantra) (1926), Prem. Rac. 13: 261–72, the
             main character is a Brahmin who has a moment of self-awakening about what ‘true’ Hinduism teaches, and
             dedicates himself to working among untouchables to end caste oppression. Again, his struggle is an individual
             one; no one follows him. By contrast, the main character in ‘Donom Taraf Se’ (From Both Sides) (1911),
             Prem. Rac. 11: 134–44, Pandit Shyamsarup, a lawyer in Patna, is able to use his own example of working for
             the uplift of untouchables to inspire at least one other person to follow suit. In the story ‘Jurmana’ (The
             Penalty) (est. 1935), Prem. Rac. 15: 464–7, the Inspector of Sanitation is ‘awakened’ by the repulsiveness of
             his own actions—in this case, abusing his authority and withholding pay from Alarakkhi, a sweeper woman
             under his supervision, when she refuses his amorous advances. Alarakkhi thinks she will be fired, but the
             inspector, converted to a more humanistic sense of self, for the first time pays Alarakkhi her full wages. In
             the anti-communal story ‘Mandir aur Masjid’ (The Temple and the Mosque) (1925), Prem. Rac. 13: 171–9,
             Premchand shows individuals from both Islam and Hinduism distancing themselves from the group mentality
             of the crowd (arguably, the basis for communalism) and choosing instead to interact with and view others
             as individuals rather than faceless members of a group. For those who cling blindly to such group identities,
             these actions are unsettling and disconcerting.


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