story of thakur's well by premchand
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Jhokhu brought the lota to his mouth but the water smelled foul. He said to Gangi, 'What kind of water is this? It stinks so much I can't drink it! My throat's burning and you give me water that's turned bad.' Every evening Gangi filled the water jugs. The well was a long way off and it was hard for her to make several trips. She'd brought this water yesterday and there'd been no bad smell at all. How could it be there now? She lifted the lota to her nostrils and it certainly smelt foul. Surely some animal must have fallen into the well and died. But she didn't know where else she could get any water.
No one would let her walk up to the Thakur's well. Even while she was far off, people would start yelling at her. At the other end of the village, the shopkeeper had a well but even there they wouldn't let her draw water. For people like herself there wasn't any well in the village.
Jhokhu, who'd been sick for several days, held back his thirst for a little while. Then he said, 'I'm so thirsty I can't stand it. Bring me the water, I'll hold my nose and drink a little.
Gangi did not give it to him. His sickness would get worse from drinking bad water-that much she knew. But she didn't know that by boiling the water it would be made safe. She said, ‘How can you drink it? Who knows what kind of beast has died in it! I'll go and get you some water from the well.'
Surprised, Jokhu stared at her. 'Where can you get more water?'
'The Thakur and the shopkeeper both have wells. Won't they let me fill just one lota!'
'You'll come back with your arms and legs broken, that's all. You'd better just sit down and keep quiet. The Brahman will give a curse, the Thakur will beat you with a stick, and that money-lending shopkeeper takes five for every one he gives. Do you think people like that are going to let you draw water from their wells.’ Harsh truth was in these words and Gangi could not deny it. But she wouldn't let him drink that stinking water.
By nine at night the dead-tired field hands were fast asleep. Gangi reached the Thakur's property to get water from his well.
The dim glow of a small oil lamp lit up the well. Gangi sat hidden behind the wall and began to wait for the right moment. Everybody in the village drank the water from his well. It was closed to nobody; only those unlucky ones like herself could not use their buckets here.
Gangi [suddenly felt very angry.] Why was she so low and those others so high! Because they wore a thread around their necks? There wasn't one of them in the village who wasn't rotten. They stole, they cheated, they lied in court, [then how were they so high and mighty?]
She heard people approaching the well and her heart began to pound. If anybody saw her, she'd get an awful kicking out of it. She grabbed her bucket and rope and crept away to hide in the dark shadows of a tree.
Two women had come to draw water and they were talking. One said: ‘There they were eating and they order us to get more water.' 'The men folk get jealous if they think they see us sitting around taking it easy.'
'That's right, and you'll never see them pick up the pitcher and fetch it themselves.’
They just order us to get it as though we were slaves.'
After they had filled their buckets and left, Gangi came out from the shadow of the tree and drew close to the well platform. The idlers had left, the Thakur had shut his door and gone inside to the courtyard to sleep. Gangi took a moment to sigh with relief. On every side, the field was clear. Gangi tiptoed up on to the well platform. Never before had she felt such a sense of triumph.
She looped the rope around the bucket. Like some soldier stealing into the enemy's fortress at night she peered cautiously on every side. If she were caught now, the slightest hope of mercy or leniency won't be there. Finally, with a prayer to the gods, she mustered her courage and cast the bucket into the well.
Slowly, slowly it sank in the water. There was not the slightest sound. Gangi yanked it back up with all her might to the rim of the well. No strong-armed athlete could have dragged it up more swiftly.
She had just stooped to catch it and set it on the wall when suddenly the Thakur's door opened. The jaws of a tiger could not have terrified her more.
The rope escaped from her hand. With a crash the bucket fell into the water, the rope after it, and for a few seconds there were sounds of splashing.
Yelling 'Who's there' Who's there?' the Thakur came toward the well and Gangi jumped from the platform and ran way as fast as she could. When she reached home, Jokhu, with the lota at his mouth, was drinking that filthy, stinking water.
Premchand's story "The Thakur's Well' informs us concerning those occasions when primitive traditions of station orders are seen in our towns. He expounds on brutal landowners and cutthroat cash banks.
This is a story of social bad form and savagery.
- Gangi and Jokhu carry on with a town. The couple has a place with an unapproachable standing. The town has just three wells. The water of the well from which they ordinarily draw water is polluted.
- The well is far away. They are not permitted to draw water from the other two wells, Thakur's well and the Sahuji's well a result of their station. Gangi, like other lower rank individuals, is a survivor of social treachery and remorselessness.
- While hanging tight for a chance to draw water at the well, she pays attention to a discussion between two ladies. The ladies talk about the men. The men have come in to eat and they request the ladies to bring water.
- They dislike the ladies to rest in any event, for a little while. They don't have the respectability to draw water themselves. They provide orders as though the ladies are slaves.
- The discussion mirrors the general public of those days. Ladies are dealt with like slaves and men took advantage of the ladies. Ladies have no privileges then, at that point.