Pandit Ghasiram (from Premchand’s short story Deliverance) is a man of God.
He is
devout, strait-laced and knowledgeable. He is also bigoted. In other words, he is the
average Brahmin of rural India.
Ghasiram is the antagonist of the story, but he is not, by definition, cruel. He just
has been raised in an oppressive system in which he, by sheer fortune, belongs to
the apex community (that is, the oppressor). Disregarding the rights - and in
extreme cases, such as that of the protagonist, Dukhi, who is an Untouchable, the
humanity - of those lower than him on the social ladder is not just acceptable, it is
encouraged in the society Ghasiram lives in. Had he been raised in an atmosphere
of less bigotry, he would likely have been a different man.
This does not, however, justify his attitude as shown in the story; it merely explains
it. Comparable, perhaps, to legendary Indian physicist Sir C. V. Raman, who, for all
his skill and exposure, was for the greater part of his life an unabashed sexist, as can
be understood from the account of a certain Kamala Sohonie. She was refused
admission into IISc Bangalore, where Raman was director, on no grounds besides
that she was a woman. Sohonie later became the first Indian woman to be awarded
a doctorate in a scientific discipline. Sohonie’s story is highly interesting, but seeing
as it is irrelevant to the current subject matter, it will be dropped here (if you do
wish to read further on it, click here). In fact, as earlier mentioned, it is Sir Raman’s
role here that ties into the context of this assignment. Similar to Ghasiram’s
casteism, Raman’s sexism was a product of the society he had been born into.
Again, this does not justify either’s attitude; it merely explains it.
There are few characters in Premchand’s tale, which means that each one is
fleshed out a great deal, mostly through interactions with one another. In
Ghasiram’s case, his conversations with Dukhi, as well as Dukhi’s attitude towards
him, reveal almost everything there is to know about the man. For instance, early
on in the story, while Dukhi and his wife are readying themselves and their house
to receive Pandit Ghasiram, Dukhi is shown to be very nervous and jumpy, not just
because of their supposed ‘unworthiness’ to receive a Brahmin, but also because of
Ghasiram’s tendency to ‘[fly] off the handle very fast’, something that, apparently,
left the Pandit’s own son with a fractured hand. Anger issues are rather
unbecoming of a man of God. Another detail worth noticing is that when Dukhi
reaches Ghasiram’s house, the latter gives Dukhi a set of tasks with zero hesitation,
despite the fact that Dukhi is not even his servant or employed by him in any way.
That Dukhi obliges immediately makes the moment almost depressing, but the
point to be made here is that Ghasiram is entitled to the point where he just
assumes the right to assign the low-caste Dukhi with a handful of odd jobs in
return for almost nothing. The ‘almost’ refers to the fact that Ghasiram agrees to
pay Dukhi a visit later in the day, but that is for ritualistic purposes - in other words,
Ghasiram just agrees to do his job after saddling Dukhi with a number of tasks for
the sole reason that he happened to be around.
Exploitative and self-satisfied as he may be, however, Ghasiram is shown to be
comparatively more tolerant a little further on in the story, with the point of
reference being his wife, who chastises her husband for showing the bare
minimum of humanity and instead itches to fling coals at Dukhi’s face. A while after
doing so (and yes, she does in fact throw the coals in Dukhi’s face), she ‘pities’ him
(interesting choice of words here by Premchand; it isn’t pity if you are the
perpetrator of the other’s misfortune), but even that runs out with almost
laughable speed. In the meantime, Ghasiram’s patience takes a little longer to wear
thin, though his consideration (of sorts) is laced with condescension (“...make a
couple of pancakes. That’ll fill the bastard’s belly up. You can never fill up these low-
caste people with good bread.” - Ghasiram to his wife, discussing what to feed
Dukhi).
The ugliest side of the Pandit comes at the end of the story. He shows no pity for
the comatose Dukhi, instead yelling at him to get on with his work and grumbling
that Dukhi’s ‘audacity’ to lie on the ground instead of cutting wood was born of the
Pandit’s compassion in feeding him. On realising that Dukhi, is, in fact, dead (and
not exhibiting audacity of any kind), Ghasiram panics, but less out of concern for
Dukhi than out of worry and shame over the fact that an Untouchable is lying dead
in his yard. His hard-heartedness only grows as he tries to convince and then
threaten the tanners’ community (to which Dukhi belonged) to drag away the
corpse, to no avail. He only decides to dispose of the body himself when he gets
tired of the tanners’ wails, which are ‘bad luck’. His method for ridding his yard of
the corpse is as brutal as his reasoning; he drags Dukhi by a noose tied around his
neck and deposits him in a field outside the village, after which he cleanses himself
and the house and prays to Durga for purification. A holy man indeed.
Made by his circumstances he may be, but it is at the end of the tale that we get to
see the extent to which Ghasiram is willing to bend, break or plainly ignore his
basic humanity for the sake of societal norms and so-called divine doctrines. Pandit
Ghasiram is a classic example of how a man who is considered God’s human
interpreter is often farthest from Him. His character arc throughout the story does
fluctuate a tad, what with him showing some unexpected flashes of sympathy at
times, but it ends on a note sour enough that one would ignore everything that
occurred earlier on in the story.
