1. “A Handful of Dates” by Tayab Salih
2. “The Gambling Match” by Marjorie Sykes
3. “An Afternoon with Shakuntala” by Vaidehi
4. “The Freedom Within” by Amaresh Nugadoni
1. “A Handful of Dates” by Tayab Salih
Introduction to Tayab Salih
Tayeb Salih (Arabic: الطيب صالح; 12 July 1929 – 18 February
2009) was one of Sudan's greatest authors of the twentieth century. Born
in Karmakol, a village on the Nile near Al Dabbah,
Sudan, in the Northern Province of Sudan, he
graduated from University of Khartoum with a Bachelor of Science, before
leaving for the University of London in the United Kingdom.
Coming from a background of small farmers and religious teachers, his
original intention was to work in agriculture. However, excluding a brief spell
as a schoolmaster before moving to England, he worked in journalism and the
promotion of international cultural exchange.
For more than ten years, Salih wrote a weekly column for the
London-based Arabic language newspaper al Majalla, in which he explored
various literary themes. He worked for the BBC's
Arabic Service and later became director general of the Ministry of Information
in Doha, Qatar.
The last ten years of his working career, he spent at UNESCO headquarters
in Paris, where he held various posts and was UNESCO's representative for
the Arab states of the Persian
Gulf.
UNESCO - The United
Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization
A Handful of Dates Theme
The short story was published, originally in Arabic in 1964, in a
collection of stories “The Wedding of Zein.” In A Handful of Dates by Tayeb
Salih we have the theme of connection, control, greed, selfishness,
rejection, injustice, conflict and coming of age. “Money changes people”. The
grandson loses respect for his grandfather because of his greediness. In the
beginning, the grandson would praise the grandfather.
The story highlights the age-old truth that appearances can be deceptive
and actions speak louder than the words.
The grandfather from his physical appearance appears to be a deeply
religious and pious soul but in reality, proves to be a devil filled with
elfish and opportunistic designs. His greed knows no bounds and he leaves no
stone unturned to grab Masood’s land without feeling any pity on him. Thus in
the words of Shakespeare, “One may smile and smile and still be a villain”.
A Handful of Dates Character
List
The Narrator
The unnamed narrator is the story's protagonist. Narrating from the present
day, the narrator looks back to a time when he was a young boy. Initially proud
to be at his grandfather's side and to memorize the Koran at mosque, the
narrator's opinion of his grandfather changes when he realizes his grandfather
has been hoping for their neighbor Masood's financial and social ruin so that
he may buy up all of Masood's land.
The Grandfather
The grandfather is the primary authority figure in the narrator's life
and chief antagonist. As a boy, the narrator loves his grandfather and believes
he is his grandfather's favorite grandchild. The grandfather is very tall and
has a soft white beard. But the narrator's high opinion of the grandfather is
shaken when he learns that the grandfather has been steadily buying up their
neighbor's land, exploiting Masood's propensity to accrue debt.
Masood
Masood is the grandfather's neighbor. Although he had inherited most of
the land in the village from his father, Masood steadily lost most of the land
by selling it off to the grandfather. The grandfather considers Masood to be
indolent and judges him for marrying many times. At the end of the story, it is
clear Masood is in debt to the men who come to take away sacks of dates from
Masood's harvest.
Hussein
Hussein is a merchant. At Masood's harvest, Hussein takes ten sacks of
dates. His assistants load the sacks onto donkeys and camels, who strain under
the weight.
Mousa
Mousa is the man who owns a field next to the grandfather's property.
Mousa is present at Masood's date harvest and takes away five sacks of dates.
A Handful of Dates Summary
"A Handful of Dates"
opens with the narrator recalling that he must have been very young at the time
the story takes place. As a boy growing up in a Sudanese village, the narrator
spends almost all of his time with his grandfather, apart from the time he
spends learning to recite the Koran at the mosque or swimming in the river. The
narrator loves his grandfather and is eager to please him by reciting the Koran
and helping his grandfather by fetching his prayer rug. He believes he is his
grandfather's favorite grandchild.
One day, the narrator asks his grandfather why he dislikes their
neighbor, Masood.
The grandfather says Masood is indolent, and that he had once owned all the
land the grandfather now owns. Masood had inherited the land from his father,
but after years of living a lifestyle that involved marrying many times,
Masood's wealth steadily winnowed, with the grandfather buying more and more of
Masood's land when he was desperate to sell. The grandfather says he has
two-thirds of Masood's original land, and plans to buy the final third before Masood
dies.
The narrator feels pity for Masood and wishes his grandfather won't do
as he says. He thinks of how his grandfather never laughs, while Masood has a
beautiful singing voice and powerful laugh.
Masood approaches the narrator and his grandfather to ask if they would
like to attend the date harvest. The narrator senses that Masood doesn't
actually want the grandfather to attend, but the grandfather jumps up eagerly.
Watching from the side, the grandfather sits on a stool while the narrator stands.
He watches Masood and is the only one who seems to hear Masood when he tells
one of the boys cutting down the date clusters to be sure not to cut into the
palm heart.
After various people collect the dates and sort them into thirty sacks,
everyone moves aside and allows four landowning men to evaluate the quality of
the dates. The grandfather wakes up and joins them, handing the narrator a
handful of dates to eat. The men divide up the sacks, allocating ten for Hussein the
merchant and five sacks each to the other men, leaving nothing for Masood.
The grandfather tells Masood that Masood is still fifty pounds in debt
to him.
As the sacks are loaded onto Hussein's camels and donkeys, the narrator
feels the desire to reach out and touch Masood's garment hem. Masood makes a
rasping sound in his throat, like a slaughtered lamb, and the narrator
experiences a painful sensation in his chest.
The narrator runs into the distance, disregarding his grandfather
calling after him. He feels hatred for his grandfather. He speeds up, feeling
that he wants to rid himself of a secret.
He reaches the river bank. Without knowing why he does it, the narrator
puts his finger in his throat and vomits up the dates he had eaten.
Meanings
Indolent
Prone to avoiding activity or strain; lazy; avoiding pain
Ewer
Wide-mouth jug used for carrying water to wash oneself
Sheikh
An Arab leader, usually the chief or head of a tribe, village, or
family; a leader in a Muslim organization or community
Koran
(Qur'an or Quran)
The sacred book of Islam, considered to be the word of God dictated by
the archangel Gabriel to the Prophet Muhammad
Mosque
A Muslim place of worship and prayer
Ablution (usually ablutions)
The ceremonial act of washing parts of oneself, in some cases before
prayer
Feddan
a unit for measuring area (land) in Egypt, Syria, Sudan, and Oman,
equivalent to 1.037 acres or 4200 square meters
Prayer-rug
Small carpet used by Muslims for kneeling on during prayers
Date
A dark brown oval fruit containing a hard pit and high natural sugar
content
Date palm
A tall palm tree bearing clusters of date fruits, native to North Africa
and western Asia
Nile
The longest river in the world, located in eastern Africa and flowing
through Uganda, Sudan, and Egypt
Rasping
A harsh, grating noise, as though something is being scraped
Spew
Informal term for vomit; expel something forcibly
Frond
Leafy extension of plants such as palms and ferns
Visceral
Relating to deeply felt bodily emotions and sensations
A Handful of Dates
Explanation
Short story published, originally in Arabic in 1964, in a collection of
stories "The Wedding of Zein".
The action of this story, as with many of the stories written by Al
Tayeb Salih, occurs in the fictional setting of the village of Wad Hamid, which
is in Central Sudan. This short story is told through the eyes of a young boy
as he experiences an epiphany, a critical moment of awareness that perhaps
marks his passage from a child to an adult. The boy's love and admiration for
his grandfather is diminished as the boy listens to his grandfather describe
Masood and observes the treatment of the man, for whom the young boy feels a
likeness.
I must have been very young at the time. While I don't remember exactly
how old I was, I do remember that when people saw me with my grandfather they
would pat me on the head and give my cheek a pinch - things they didn't do to
my grandfather. The strange thing was that I never used to go out with my father;
rather it was my grandfather who would take me with him wherever he went,
except for the mornings, when I would go to the mosque to learn the Koran.
The mosque, the river, and the fields - these were the landmarks in our
life. While most of the children of my age grumbled at having to go to the
mosque to learn the Koran, I used to love it. The reason was, no doubt, that I
was quick at learning by heart and the Sheik always asked me to stand up and
recite the Chapter of the Merciful whenever we had visitors, who would pat me
on my head and cheek just as people did when they saw me with my grandfather.
Yes, I used to love the mosque, and I loved the river, too. Directly we
finished our Koran reading in the morning I would throw down my wooden slate
and dart off, quick as a genie, to my mother, hurriedly swallow down my
breakfast, and run off for a plunge in the river. When tired of swimming about,
I would sit on the bank and gaze at the strip of water that wound away
eastwards, and hid behind a thick wood of acacia trees.
I loved to give rein to my imagination and picture myself a tribe of
giants living behind that wood, a people tall and thin with white beards and
sharp noses, like my grandfather.
Before my grandfather ever replied to my many questions, he would rub
the tip of his nose with his forefinger; as for his beard, it was soft and
luxuriant and as white as cotton wool - never in my life have I seen anything
of a purer whiteness or greater beauty.
My grandfather must also have been extremely tall, for I never saw
anyone in the whole area address him without having him look up at him, nor did
I see him enter a house without having to bend so low that I was put in mind of
the way the river wound round behind the wood of acacia trees. I loved him and
would imagine myself, when I grew to be a man, tall and slender like him,
walking along with great strides.
I believe I was his favorite grandchild: no wonder, for my cousins were
a stupid bunch and I - so they say - was an intelligent child. I used to know
when my grandfather wanted me to laugh, when to be silent; also I would
remember the times for his prayers and would bring him his prayer rug and fill
the ewer for his ablutions without his having to ask me. When he had nothing
else to do he enjoyed listening to me reciting to him from the Koran in a
lilting voice, and I could tell from his face that he was moved.
One day I asked him about our neighbor Masood. I said to my grandfather:
I fancy you don't like our neighbor Masood?
To which he answered, having rubbed the tip of his nose: He's an
indolent man and I don't like such people.
I said to him: What's an indolent man?
My grandfather lowered his head for a moment; then, looking across the
wide expanse of field, he said: Do you see it stretching out from the edge of
the desert up to the Nile bank? A hundred feddans. Do you see all those date
palms? And those trees - sant, acacia, and sayal? All this fell into Masood's
lap, was inherited by him from his father.
Taking advantage of the silence that had descended on my grandfather, I
turned my gaze from him to the vast area defined by words. I don't care, I told
myself, who owns those date palms, those trees or this black, cracked earth -
all I know is that it's the arena for my dreams and my playground.
My grandfather then continued: Yes, my boy, forty years ago all this
belonged to Masood - two-thirds of it is now mine.
This was news for me, for I had imagined that the land had belonged to
my grandfather ever since God's Creation.
I didn't own a single feddan when I first set foot in this village.
Masood was then the owner of all these riches. The position had changed now,
though, and I think that before Allah calls me to Him I shall have bought the
remaining third as well."
I do not know why it was I felt fear at my grandfather's words - and
pity for our neighbor Masood. How I wished my grandfather wouldn't do what he'd
said! I remembered Masood's singing, his beautiful voice and powerful laugh
that resembled the gurgling of water. My grandfather never laughed.
I asked my grandfather why Masood had sold his land.
Women, and from the way my grandfather pronounced the word I felt that
women was something terrible. Masood, my boy, was a much-married man. Each time
he married he sold me a feddan or two. I made the quick calculation that Masood
must have married some ninety women. Then I remembered his three wives, his
shabby appearance, his lame donkey and its dilapidated saddle, his galabia with
the torn sleeves. I had all but rid my mind of the thoughts that jostled in it
when I saw the man approaching us, and my grandfather and I exchanged glances.
We'll be harvesting the dates today, said Masood. Don't you want to be
there?
I felt, though, that he did not really want my grandfat
her to attend. My grandfather, however, jumped to his feet and I saw
that his eyes sparkled momentarily with an intense brightness. He pulled me by
the hand and we went off to the harvesting of Masood's dates.
Someone brought my grandfather a stool covered with an oxhide, while I
remained standing.
There was a vast number of people there, but though I knew them all, I
found myself for some reason watching Masood: aloof from that great gathering
of people he stood as though it were no concern of his, despite the fact that
the date palms to be harvested were his own.
Sometimes his attention would be caught by the sound of a huge clump of
dates crashing down from on high. Once he shouted up at the boy perched on the
very summit of the date palm who had begun hacking at a clump with his long,
sharp sickle: Be careful you don't cut the heart of the palm.
No one paid any attention to what he said and the boy seated at the very
summit of the date palm continued, quickly and energetically, to work away at
the branch with his sickle till the clump of dates began to drop like something
descending from the heavens.
I however, had begun to think about Masood's phrase, the heart of the
palm. I pictured the palm tree as something with feeling, something possessed
of a heart that throbbed. I remembered Masood's remark to me when he had once
seen me playing with the branch of a young palm tree: Palm trees, my boy, like
humans, experience joy and suffering. And I had felt an inward and unreasoned
embarrassment.
When I again looked at the expanse of ground stretching before me I saw
my young companions swarming like ants around the trunks of the palm trees,
gathering up dates and eating most of them. The dates were collected into high
mounds. I saw people coming along and weighing them into measuring bins and
pouring them into sacks, of which I counted thirty. The crowd of people broke
up, except for Hussein the merchant, Mousa the owner of the field next to ours
on the east, and two men I'd never seen before.
I heard a low whistling sound and saw that my grandfather had fallen
asleep. Then I noticed that Masood had not changed his stance, except that he
had placed a stalk in his mouth and was munching at it like someone sated with
food who doesn't know what to do with the mouthful he still has.
Suddenly my grandfather woke up, jumped to his feet, and walked toward
the sacks of dates. He was followed by Hussein the merchant, Mousa the owner of
the field next to ours and two strangers. I glanced at Masood and saw that he
was making his way toward us with extreme slowness, like a man who wants to
retreat but whose feet insist on going forward.
They formed a circle around the
sacks of dates and began examining them, some taking a date or two to eat. My
grandfather gave me a fistful, which I began munching. I saw Masood filling the
palms of both hands with dates and bringing them up close to his nose, then
returning them.
Then I saw them dividing up the sacks between them. Hussein the merchant took
ten; each of the strangers took five.
Mousa the owner of the field next to ours on the eastern side took five,
and my grandfather took five. Understanding nothing, I looked at Masood and saw
that his eyes were darting to left and right like two mice that have lost their
way home.
You're still fifty pounds in debt to me, said my grandfather to Masood.
We'll talk about it later.
Hussein called his assistants and they brought along the donkeys, the
two strangers produced camels, and the sacks of dates were loaded onto them.
One of the donkeys let out a braying which set the camels frothing at the mouth
and complaining noisily. I felt myself drawing close to Masood, felt my hand
stretch out toward him as though I wanted to touch the hem of his garment. I
heard him make a noise in his throat like the rasping of a sheep being
slaughtered. For some unknown reason, I experienced a sharp sensation of pain
in my chest.
I ran off into the distance. Hearing my grandfather call after me, I
hesitated a little, then continued on my way. I felt at that moment that I
hated him. Quickening my pace, it was as though I carried within me a secret I
wanted to rid myself of. I reached the riverbank near the bend it made behind
the wood of acacia trees. Then, without knowing why, I put my finger into my
throat and spewed up the dates I'd eaten.
2. “The Gambling Match” by
Marjorie Sykes (Chaupar)
Introduction to Marjorie
Sykes (Marjari)
Marjorie Sykes (Born on 11 May 1905 – and died on 17 August 1995)
was a British educator who went to live in India in the 1920s and joined the
Indian independence movement, spending most of the remainder of her life in
India. She wrote many books and became acquainted with many of the leading
figures in Indian politics and culture, including Rabindranath Tagore and Mahatma
Gandhi.
The daughter of a village schoolmaster, Marjorie Sykes was born in Mexborough, Yorkshire, England on
11 May 1905. Sykes was nine years old when the First
World War broke out, forcing a beloved teacher,
who happened to be German, to leave her position. Benefiting from a
scholarship, Sykes began college studies in 1923 at Newnham College, Cambridge.
There she heard of Mahatma
Gandhi from the many Indian students. She
graduated with first class honors in English in 1928.
The Gambling Match Theme
The gamblers do not hesitate to adopt unfair means to win the game
anyhow. A man with morality is likely to get defeated in gambling. The ultimate
result of the game of dice id the bloody battle between the Pandavas and
the Kauravas.
Yudhishthira gambled
away each of his four younger brothers and finally himself. The deceitful
Shakuni finally suggested he put at stake his spirited and beautiful wife
Draupadi and Yudhisthira fell for the ploy.
The main theme of the Mahabharata is the idea of sacred duty. Every
character in the epic is born into a particular social group, or caste, that
must follow the duty prescribed to it by sacred law. The characters that
perform their sacred duty are rewarded, while those who do not are punished.
Introduction to the Gambling
Match (The Mahabharata)
Why had Duryodhana and Sakuni decided to rouse Yudhisthira’s anger
during the gambling? Yudhishtira was the greatest of the Pandavas but he was
short-tempered. When he was under the effect of anger, Yudhishsthira was mad
and unwise. He lost his ability to choose right from wrong.
The Mahabharata (compiled between 300 BC and 300 AD) has the
honor of being the longest epic in world literature. It consists of 100,000
2-line stanzas (although the most recent critical edition edits this down to
about 88,000).. In other words, the Mahabharata resembles a long
journey with many side roads and detours (long route).
The name Mahabharata means “great [story of the] Bharatas.”
Bharata was an early ancestor of both the Pandavas and Kauravas who fight each
other in a great war, but the word is also used generically for the Indian
race, so the Mahabharata sometimes is referred to as “the great story
of India.” The epic is divided into 18 books, concerning an 18-day war among 18
armies. The main narrative concerning the war is contained in the first ten
books.
The Gambling Match Characters:
Vyasa [Vee-YA-sha]: narrator of the story and father of Pandu and
Dhritarashtra
BHISH-ma: half-uncle by marriage of Pandu and Dhritarashtra
Dhri-ta-RASH-tra: blind king, father of Duryodhana and the Kauravas
GAN-dhari: wife of Dhritarashtra
KUN-ti: wife of Pandu and mother to the five Pandavas and Karna
Yu-DHISH-thira: leader of the Pandavas, rightful heir to the throne
BHI-ma: strongest of the Pandava brothers
AR-juna: mightiest of warriors
NA-kula and Saha-DE-va: Pandava twins
DRAU-pa-di: wife to the five Pandavas
Du-ry-ODH-ana: leader of the Kauravas
Duh-SA-sa-na: brother to Duryodhana
KRISH-na: supporter of the Pandavas and avatar of Vishnu
DRO-na: teacher of the Pandavas and Kauravas
KAR-na: warrior, secret son of Kunti, ally of the Kauravas
The Gambling Match Summary
The Pandavas soon
arrived at Hastinapura,
the Kuru capital, where
they were offered a superficial welcome by Dhritarastra and supplied rooms that
were beautifully furnished. They spent the night in those apartments, and the
next day they were taken by Dhritarastra to the new imperial court at Jayanta.
Following them were Duryodhana and
his one hundred brothers, Shakuni and
the other members of the Kuru race such as Bhishma, Somadatta and Bhurishravas.
The Pandavas were shown the assembly hall, and out of courtesy the Pandavas
expressed appreciation for the beauty of the royal assembly court. However, it
did not measure up to the beauty of the imperial court built by the demon Maya. Duryodhana and his
followers were indifferent to the assembly house; their minds were fixed on the
gambling match.
After the hall had been inspected, Shakuni suggested that they sit down
and play a game of dice. However, Yudhisthira advised,
"Gambling is deceitful, sinful, and there is no kshatriya prowess
in it.
When there is no morality in such action, why do you praise gambling in
this way? The wise do not advise playing with one who is expert in dice. O
Shakuni, do not try to subjugate us by deceitful means. Victory in battle
without deception and wickedness is the mark of a true warrior."
"It is from a desire to be victorious" Shakuni replied, "That
one person approaches another for gambling. But such a desire is not really
dishonest. One who is expert in gambling approaches another to defeat that
person. Similarly, one who is the expert in the use of weapons approaches a
weaker enemy with the idea of defeating him. This is the practice in every
contest. The motive is victory. If you think that my intentions are deceptive,
then you may desist from play."
"Since you have challenged me," Yudhisthira said, "I will
not withdraw. This is my established vow. We are all under the control of
destiny. Who in this assembly shall be my opponent? Who will match their skill
against mine? Let the play begin."
The scheming Duryodhana joyfully suggested, "O monarch, I shall
supply gems and jewels and every kind of wealth. However, my uncle Shakuni
shall roll the dice for me."
Not agreeing with the terms, Yudhisthira replied, "Gambling for
one's own sake is allowed, but a substitute is never sanctioned."
"I see nothing wrong in this arrangement," Shakuni spoke up.
"It is evident that you want to avoid playing by offering some excuse. If
you do not want to play, then tell us frankly." Yudhisthira could not
reply, and the game of dice began.
When the gambling match commenced, the hall filled up with princes and
kings. Bhishma, Drona, Kripa and Vidura took
their seats, but their hearts were not in this game.
It was unprincipled and started with a sinsiter intention. King
Dhritarastra also took his seat along with many others. They were anxious for
the game to begin.
"O King," Yudhisthira said, "here I have an excellent
wealth of pearls, originated from the churning of the milk ocean. They are set
in gold and radiant in beauty. What will you wager?"
"I have many jewels and own a great fortune," Duryodhana
replied, "but I am not proud of it. Throw the dice, and we will see who is
the winner." Then Shakuni, a past master in the art of gambling, took up
the dice and threw them exclaiming, "Look, I have won!"
Yudhisthira then wagered, "I have many dazzling jars of jewelry in
my treasury, inexhaustible gold, and a mountain of silver and other minerals.
This, O King, is the wealth that I will wager." Shakuni threw the
dice and exclaimed, "Look I have won!" Time after time Yudhisthira
would stake his wealth, and time after time Shakuni would win, and the only
sound that could be heard was, "Look I have won!" Yudhisthira lost
his jewels, his gold, his silver, his army, his chariots, his horses, his
slaves and his kingdom. Yudhisthira kept losing steadily watching everything
being devoured by the demon Shakuni.
During the course of the gambling, Vidura could see that the Pandavas
were about to lose everything. He, therefore, tried to advise Dhritarastra,
"Dear brother, listen to my words, even if they are not pleasing to your
ears. A sick man will not relish the medicine the doctor prescribes. Do you
remember the time when this son of yours was born and brayed like a jackal. A
jackal is living in your house in the form of Duryodhana. He will bring about
the destruction of the Bharata race.
At the time of his birth, I told you to cast him aside and save the Kuru
dynasty, but you did not take my advice, and now you will have to pay heavily.
This injustice in the form of a gambling match will not go unpunished.
You will suffer greatly in old age because of the deaths of your sons at the
hands of the Pandavas. Gambling is the foundation of all sin, and leads one to
hellish life. Your son does not have the strength to fight with the Pandavas in
a manly war. He is cheating them with the help of this prince of the cheaters.
Please do not allow gambling match to continue, or it will have gruesome
results. I urgently request you to stop this game." This advice was bitter
medicine the King did not want to take, and, therefore, he did not respond to
Vidura.
However, Duryodhana heard Vidura's advice and responded harshly, "O
Vidura, you are always glorifying the sons of Pandu and
neglecting us. You do not regard us as your children. Your tongue and mind are
reflecting what is in your heart. You have been maintained by us like a serpent
in our lap. The wise have said that there is no greater vice than to injure
one's master. Why do you not fear this sin? We are now prevailing over our
enemies, and we have now acquired great riches.
Therefore, O parasite, why do you try to obstruct us? Do not imagine
that you are our master. We did not ask you for your counsel, so why give it?
One should not give shelter to another who is the friend of foes."
Vidura then tried again to persuade his brother, "I have always
been a well wishing friend to you and your family, but this injustice will not
be tolerated. I am not partial to any section of the family-either the sons of
Pandu or your sons. However, I am partial to those who are honest and just, and
indifferent to those who are dishonest and crooked.
Your son, O King, is dishonest, and his actions are proving it. If you
allow impious actions to continue, you will have to reap the impious
repercussions that will come in the future. We have never seen in the history
of the world honest kings acting like your son.
On the contrary, only the most vindictive of wicked kings act in the way
Duryodhana is acting. He is an enemy in your own camp. Therefore, at your
command, O King, allow Arjuna to
kill this unscrupulous person." Again these words of wisdom fell on deaf
ears and the gambling match continued. By this time Shakuni had exploited
everything and inquired of Yudhisthira, "What now will you
wager?""Here is my brother Nakula"
Yudhisthira replied, "who is a powerful warrior. He is what I shall now
stake in this gambling match."
Saying this much Shakuni rolled the dice and said, "Look, I have
won. Now what will you bet?"
"Here is my brother Sahadeva,"
Yudhisthira replied, "who knows all the principles of morality. He is my
wager in this gambling match." Shakuni then rolled the dice exclaiming,
"Look Yudhisthira, I have won. Now what will be your wager? You still have
Arjuna and Bhimasena."
"O wretched person," Yudhisthira replied, "you are
cheating by playing a game of crooked dice. You are trying to create disunion
between us who are of one heart. However, I am not the controller of destiny,
and, therefore, I will wager this brother of mine Arjuna, who is the foremost
archer in the world."
Shakuni then rolled the dice and laughingly exclaimed, "Look, I
have won! Now what will you wager?" "I have Bhima,"
Yudhisthira replied, "who is capable of subduing all warriors on the field
of battle. I will wager this brother of mine.
" Shakuni then pitched the dice and said, "Look Yudhisthira, I
have won. Now what is there left to wager?" Yudhisthira then replied to
the sinful Shakuni, "I have myself who am the oldest of my brothers and
who is the King of Indraprastha. I
will wager myself."
After saying this much, Shakuni rolled the dice and exclaimed, "You
have permitted yourself to be won, O King. Is there anything left for you to
wager? I think you still have one thing left in your possession. Why don't you
stake Draupadi in
this gambling match. By her you can win yourself back. ""The
beautiful Draupadi" Yudhisthira replied, "is still in my possession.
Making her as my wager, I will play with you, O best of the charlatans."
When King Yudhisthira had made this last wager, there was a cry of
anguish among the elders present. Bhishma, Drona and Kripa were covered with
perspiration, and Vidura, holding his head between his hands, sat like one who
had lost all reason. He sat with his face downward and was breathing heavily
like a snake.
Dhritarastra was the only one of the elders who was elated at heart. He
repeatedly asked, "What has been won? What now has been won?" He
could not conceal his motions. Karna and Duhshasana were
laughing loudly, but others were crying in the assembly. Picking up the dice
that were loaded in his favor, Shakuni rolled them and exclaimed, "Look, I
have won everything!" With these words the entire assembly hall was
shocked into silence. Thus Ends the Mahabharata Summation
to the Ninth Chapter of the Sabha Parva,
Entitled, The Gambling Match.
3. “An Afternoon with
Shakuntala” by Vaidehi
Introduction to Vaidehi
Vaidehi, another name for the goddess Sita
Vaidehi (Kannada writer) (born
1945), Kannada language writer
Janaki Srinivasa Murthy (born as Vasanti on 12 February
1945), popularly known by her nickname Vaidehi is an Indian writer
and well-known writer of modern Kannada language fiction.
Vaidehi is one of the most successful women writers in the language and a
recipient of prestigious national and state-level literary awards. She has
won the Sahitya Akademi Award for
her collection of short stories, Krauncha Pakshigalu in 2009.
Vaidehi was born on 12 February 1945 to A. V. N. Hebbar (father) and
Mahalakshmi (mother) in Kundapura taluk
of Udupi
district, Karnataka. She grew up in a large
traditional Brahmin family. She graduated with a bachelor's degree in Commerce
from the Bhandarkar College in Kundapura. Her father is a lawyer and her mother
was a homemaker. At home, a dialect (language ) of Kannada called Kundapur Kannada is spoken and
she uses this dialect in her works as well. Vaidehi became her pen-name under
unusual circumstances. Early in her writing career, she had sent a story to the
Kannada weekly magazine Sudha for
publication but later requested the publisher not to go ahead with the print as
the story was non-fictional and included a real-life story. However, the editor
went ahead with the publication by changing the author's name to 'Vaidehi'.
This name stuck in her later writings as well as she gained popularity.
An Afternoon with Shakuntala
Theme
Shakuntala (Jayshree) is the daughter of sage Vishwamitra and Menaka,
but is brought up by the sage Kanva, and stays with him in a forest dwelling (a house). She meets King
Dushyanta (Chandra Mohan), when he comes there for a hunt. The two fall in
love and get married.
An Afternoon with Shakuntala
Summary
Shakuntala (Jayshree)
is the daughter of sage Vishwamitra and Menaka,
but is brought up by the sage Kanva,
and stays with him in a forest dwelling.
Shakuntala (Sanskrit: Śakuntalā)
is the wife of Dushyanta and
the mother of Emperor Bharata.
Her story is told in the ancient Indian epic Mahabharata and
dramatized by many writers, the most famous adaption being Kalidasa's
play Abhijñānaśākuntala (The
Sign of Shakuntala).
Once, Vishwamitra started
to meditate to earn the status of a Brahmarshi. The intensity of his penance
frightened Indra. He
feared that Vishwamitra might want his throne.
To end his penance, Indra sent Menaka, an apsara, to lure him and
bring him out of his penance. Menaka reached Vishwamitra's meditating spot and
started to seduce him. Vishwamitra could not control his lust and desire and
his penance was broken. Vishwamitra and Menaka lived together for a few years
and a daughter was born to them. Later, Vishwamitra realized that all those
things were Indra's tricks. He realized that he needed to control his emotions.
Vishwamitra left Menaka and Menaka left the baby near Rishi Kanva's
hermitage before returning to heaven.
Rishi Kanva found
that baby in his hermitage surrounded by Shakunta birds (Sanskrit: शकुन्त, śakunta).
Therefore, he named her Shakuntala (Sanskrit: शकुन्तला),
meaning Shakunta-protected.
In the Adi
Parva of Mahabharata, Kanva says:
She was surrounded in the solitude of the wilderness by śakuntas,
therefore, hath she been named by me Shakuntala (Shakunta-protected).
Marriage with Dushyanta
King Dushyanta first
encountered Shakuntala while travelling through the forest with his army. He
was pursuing a male deer wounded
by his weapon. Shakuntala and Dushyanta fell in love with each other and got
married as per Gandharva marriage system.
Before returning to his kingdom, Dushyanta gave his personal royal ring
to Shakuntala as a symbol of his promise to rahul and bring her to his palace.
Sage Durvasa curses Shakuntala, painting by B.P. Banerjee
Shakuntala spent much time dreaming of her new husband and was often
distracted by her daydreams. One day, a powerful rishi, Durvasa,
came to the ashrama but, lost in her thoughts about Dushyanta, Shakuntala
failed to greet him properly. Incensed by this slight, the rishi cursed Shakuntala,
saying that the person she was dreaming of would forget about her altogether.
As he departed in a rage, one of Shakuntala's friends quickly explained to him
the reason for her friend's distraction. The rishi, realizing that his extreme
wrath was not justified, modified his curse saying that the person who had
forgotten Shakuntala would remember everything again if she showed him a
personal token that had been given to her.
Journey to Hastinapura
Sakuntala leaving for her husband king Dushyanta's palace
Arriving at Dushyanta's court, Shakuntala was hurt and surprised when
her husband did not recognize her, nor recollected anything about her. She
tried to remind him that she was his wife but without the ring,
Dushyanta did not recognize her. Humiliated, she returned to the forests
and, collecting her son, settled in a wild part of the forest by herself. Here
she spent her days while Bharata,
her son, grew older. Surrounded only by wild animals, Bharata grew to be a
strong youth and made a sport of opening the mouths of tigers and lions and
counting their teeth.
Reunion with Dushyanta
Meanwhile, a fisherman was surprised to find a royal ring in the belly
of a fish he had caught. Recognizing the royal seal, he took the ring to the
palace and, upon seeing his ring, Dushyanta's memories of his lovely
bride came rushing back to him. He immediately set out to find her and,
arriving at her father's ashram, discovered that she was no longer there. He
continued deeper into the forest to find his wife and came upon a surprising
scene in the forest: a young boy had pried open the mouth of a lion and was
busy counting its teeth. The king greeted the boy, amazed by his boldness and
strength, and asked his name. He was surprised when the boy answered that he
was Bharata, the son of King Dushyanta. The boy took him to Shakuntala, and
thus the family was reunited.
4. “The Freedom Within” by
Amaresh Nugadoni
Introduction to Amaresh
Nugadoni
Amaresh Nugadoni born in 1960, in the Raichur district manvi near nugadoniyalli was
born.
Amaresh Nugadoni is a well-known short story writer in Kannada. He is
working as Associate Professor, Department of Kannada Literature Studies,
Kannada University, Hampi. Apart from collections of short stories, he
published many research works. One of his short stories was made into a
National Award-winning film by Girish Kasaravalli.
The Freedom within Theme
“Birds are born to fly free
and no one should steal their freedom from them”. In nature, birds engage in
social activities such as taking sand baths, playing hide-and-seek, dancing,
building nests with their mates and nurturing their young.
Birds are generally known to
symbolize freedom because they can walk on the earth and swim in the sea
like us humans, but they also have the ability to fly into the sky. A lot of
cultures believe that they symbolize eternal life and some would say that they
serve as the connection between heaven and earth.
The Freedom within Summary
He spent the whole of yesterday in spraying pesticides and watering
plants till his energy was exhausted. Normally every day before sunrise he
would go around the farm and then attend to his morning ablutions. But today
when he opened his eyes and rushed out of his hut, it was already dawn. The fog
was just disappearing. The distant hills were shining in sun’s golden rays. The
birds were swimming in the sky. The sparrows in the nearby acacia tree were
chirping in screechy voices. They must built nests in the tree. They chirped so
loudly only when some danger neared them.
So he looked around the tree. He peered inside the bushy tree. There
must be a snake, he wondered, and soon spotted one. The snake’s mouth was
nearing a nest.”Go to hell, you!” He threw a stone in the direction. The snake
become alert and began to crawl. Its guts seemed Swollen. So the snake must
have swallowed a few fledglings. He thought he should finish off the snake. The
chirping became noisy and louder. The snake would not crawl in good speed
because of its increased weight. He threw one more stone at it as it gliding
along the trunk of the tree.
The moment the stone hit it the snake fell. He picked a large stone to
crush it's good but the snake manage to disappear into a bush. He felt
disappointed because the snake was now out of his reach. But it was surely injure.
There was wound, and the ants were sure to gather. He felt quite relieved at
the thought that the snake might not survive. Heavy with the strange excitement
he continued to stand and stare.
The Sparrows soon returned to the nest but the noise had not subsided. One
nest had fallen from the tree. He picked it up and looked it to eat to see the
three little fledglings with open mouths. The little one were screaming. Their
bodies felt sticky with blood. Their pitiable condition touched his heart. He felt
guilty that the nest fell because of the stone he had thrown.
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