Friends, our country has been a birthplace and a land of action for great individuals, filled with virtues like sages, poets, writers, musicians, and more. The thousands of creations crafted by these great people are invaluable.
Today's youth, in this digital age, seem lost, and we are drifting farther from our heritage and precious treasures. subkuz.com strives to bring you these invaluable treasures, along with entertaining stories, news, and information about the world.
Presented before you here is a precious story by Munshi Premchand, titled:
* The Daughter of a Large House
Benimadhav Singh was the landlord and numberdar of the village Gauripur. His forefathers were once wealthy and prosperous. The village's well-maintained pond and temple, now needing repair, were testaments to their glory. They say an elephant used to kneel at this doorway, now replaced by an old buffalo, its body reduced to mere bones, yet it apparently yielded copious milk, as a man with a pot would regularly be seen perched upon its back. Benimadhav Singh had already given away much of his property to lawyers. His current annual income was no more than one thousand rupees. Thakur Sahib had two sons. The elder's name was Shrikant Singh. After much hard work and effort, he earned a B.A. degree and now held a position in an office.
The younger son, Lalbihari Singh, was a handsome, robust young man. He had a full face and broad chest. Every morning, he would drink two seers of fresh buffalo milk. Shrikant Singh's situation was quite the opposite. These appealing qualities he had squandered on a B.A. — these two letters had weakened his body and dulled his complexion. He had a particular fondness for medical texts and placed significant trust in Ayurvedic remedies. A pleasant, rhythmic sound of a mortar often emanated from his room morning and evening, alongside correspondence with doctors from Lahore and Calcutta.
Though Shrikant was a graduate of an English degree, he was not a fervent devotee of English social customs. Instead, he frequently and loudly criticised and condemned them. This earned him great respect in the village. During the Dasahara festivities, he enthusiastically participated in the Ramlila, often playing a role. He was the very heart of the Ramlila in Gauripur. A reverence for ancient Hindu civilisation was a cornerstone of his religious beliefs. He was the sole follower of the joint family system. He considered the growing disinclination among women to live harmoniously within families harmful to both caste and nation. This was the reason why the village maidens were his critics; some even considered him an enemy! Even his own wife disagreed with him on this matter. Not because she bore any dislike for her in-laws, brother-in-law, or sister-in-law; but she reasoned that rather than allowing daily squabbles to destroy their lives, it would be better to cook their own khichdi separately.
Aanandhi was a woman of noble birth. Her father was a taluqdar of a small princely state. A grand house, an elephant, three dogs, a hawk, hunting gear, decorative lamps, the position of honorary magistrate, and debts—all the trappings of a prestigious taluqdar were present. His name was Bhup Singh. He was a generous and talented man, yet unfortunately, he had no sons. There were seven daughters, and by providence, all survived. In his initial enthusiasm, he had performed three marriages; but once the fifteen to twenty thousand rupees of debt became pressing, his eyes opened, and he withdrew his hands. Aanandhi was the fourth daughter. She was more beautiful and virtuous than her sisters. Consequently, Thakur Bhup Singh loved her dearly. Parents often cherish their beautiful children perhaps more than others.
Thakur Sahib was in a great dilemma about where to marry her. He did not want to add to the debt load, and equally, he was unwilling to accept that she was unfortunate. One day, Shrikant came to him seeking money for a charitable cause—perhaps a collection for the promotion of the vernacular language. Bhup Singh was won over by his character and the marriage of Shrikant Singh and Aanandhi was arranged with great pomp and circumstance.
Aanandhi came to her new home, and found the atmosphere quite different. The grandeur she was accustomed to from her childhood was absent. Forget elephants and horses, even a single decorated palanquin was not present. She had brought with her silk slippers, but where was the garden? The house had no windows, no floor, no pictures. It was a simple, rustic home, but Aanandhi quickly adjusted, as if she had never known opulence.
One afternoon, Lalbihari Singh entered with two birds and said to his sister-in-law, “Prepare quickly, I'm hungry.” Aanandhi, having prepared the meal, waited for him. Now, she was about to prepare a new dish. When she examined the pot, she found the ghee to be less than a quarter of a cup. The daughter of a large household, how could she understand frugality? She used up all the ghee to cook the meat. When Lalbihari sat down to eat, there was no ghee in the dal, and he asked, "Why was there no ghee in the dal?"
Aanandhi replied, "All the ghee went into the meat."
``` **(Note:** The remaining content exceeds the token limit and would need to be split into multiple sections to be completely rewritten. Please let me know if you would like me to proceed with the rest of the article.)
