Jainendra's 'Tyagpatra'

A novel of renunciation, redemption and salvation

Aug 24, 2022

In this post, we take a brief look at Tyagpatra by one of Hindi’s most celebrated novelists, Jainendra.

JAINENDRA (1905-1988)

Jainendra dominated the Hindi literary scene for most of the 20th century. He introduced the psychological in Hindi fiction and is known for his deep and sensitive exploration of the human mind. He is also celebrated for his crisp but luminous prose. He preferred to dictate rather than write down his novels, essays and short stories, and it is to this practice that some attribute “the extreme economy of words” that characterises his writing (Garg, 2012).

Jainendra made his first appearance in 1929, with a book of short stories, which was immediately followed by his first novel, Parakh. The novel, hailed by both critics and general readers, was awarded the Hindustani Academy Prize. Parakh was rapidly followed by the novels Sunita (1935) and Tyagpatra (1937), several volumes of short stories and a book of essays. From then on, Jainendra’s rise to fame was meteoric and he became “probably the most talked-of figure in Hindi literature, not only because of the high literary quality of his subsequent work, but also, and possibly more, on the disturbing originality of his creative output” (Agyeya, 1946).

At the beginning of the 20th century, Indian literature began to increasingly reflect the political dreams of the people. Writers across the country were inspired by Gandhi’s ideas of social justice and national identity. Additionally, the ideas of Karl Marx began to gain significance in Indian political thought, and to find expression in literature. Marxian thought and Gandhian idealism combined to give rise to an intellectual outlook that accommodated radical new left-leaning ideas without violent revolution. In Hindi writing, the works of Munshi Premchand came to embody this new spirit. His writings are characterized by his deep understanding of rural Indian society, his sensitive and empathetic portrayal of social concerns, and his vivid characterizations. Jainendra, rather than following the path laid down by Premchand, chose to strike out on his own exploring through his writings the inner conflicts and turmoil of the individual rather than the wider social issues that had been Premchand’s concern.

In the words of Agyeya,

His thought, his story material, his characters, even his language, was provokingly different, and each new novel seemed to define more clearly a philosophy that was in startling contrast with ideologies of aggressive nationalistic aspirations current at the time. (Agyeya, 1946)

Jainendra, as Mridula Garg says, was “a true exponent of the Jain philosophy, which preached that one could achieve nirvana or redemption, only through renunciation and self-laceration.” In all his novels, “a hankering for renunciation is felt with the same passionate desire that marks the pursuit of pleasure”. (Garg, 2006). Jainendra is intensely preoccupied with moral principles, a preoccupation that marks all his novels, and in particular Tyagpatra.

Perhaps Jainendra was ahead of his times, or perhaps the austere philosophy that underpins his writing, or the very moral world he seeks even as he seems to flout all morality — perhaps all this was too much for the “superficial skepticism” of his contemporaries, who subjected him to “the most sustained campaign of ridicule any Hindi writer has known” (Agyeya, 1946).

Nevertheless, he remains one of Hindi’s greatest writers and his contribution “perhaps the most significant contemporary contribution to Hindi literature” (Agyeya, 1946).

Jainendra passed away in 1988, “after 58 years of creative writing and 83 of reflective living” (Garg, 2012). He left behind a formidable body of work: thirteen novels, ten volumes of short stories and an equal number of volumes of philosophical essays. He was awarded the Sahitya Akademi award in 1966 for his novel Muktibodh, and the Akademi’s highest award, the Sahitya Akademi Fellowship, in 1979. In 1971, he was awarded the Padma Bhushan, India’s highest civilian award.

TYAGPATRA
BY JAINENDRA

Translated by Rohini Chowdhury; Afterword by Mridula Garg
(Published: Penguin Books India, 2012)

In Tyagpatra, Jainendra tells the story of Mrinal, a young woman “with an immensely strong sense of self-determination” (Snell and Chellini, 1995). Her uncompromising idealism and adherence to what she believes is her dharma, leads to her complete rejection by her family and her husband. Her story is told in the first person by her nephew Pramod, a successful lawyer and respected judge, who, in a series of flashbacks, tells us his aunt’s tragic story and, from his perspective, her equally tragic death.

Mrinal was Pramod’s bua, his father’s sister; several years younger than his father, she is only four or five years older than him. She lives with Pramod and his parents, under the strict and watchful eye of his mother. The two children share a deep affection for each other. Pramod thinks back to their childhood, and we see Mrinal as he saw her then, a lively, vivacious young girl, endowed with exceptional beauty.

One day, she returns from school, strangely restless. Later we realise that she is in love with her best friend Sheela’s brother, a fact that Pramod understands only dimly as a child. Her awakening sexuality, tender and intense and finding an echo in Pramod, is beaten out of her by Pramod’s mother; Mrinal is then hurriedly married off to a rough and boorish man much older than her. She is deeply unhappy, and returns home. But her brother admonishes her, explaining that a woman’s only refuge is her husband’s home, and a husband her life, her duty, even her salvation.

Mrinal returns to her husband. Determined now to be a virtuous wife, she tells him about her love for Sheela’s brother. Furious, he throws her out, leaving her to fend for herself in a hovel. Disowned by her husband and her family, she begins to live with a coal-seller, an uncouth and violent man. Pramod, who is now in college, still thinks of her from time to time and tries to locate her. He finally finds her living with the coal-seller, and pregnant with his child. Pramod is angry, shocked, and repulsed by Mrinal’s condition. He wants to take her back home with him, but Mrinal refuses…

There were many questions in my mind. I could not fully accept that Bua herself was not responsible for the situation she was in today. Even so, even in these circumstances, there was such a naturalness about Bua that I could not, in my arrogance feel pity for her. Then what should I feel? Helplessly, I said, ‘Bua.’
She said, ‘Go on, why have you stopped?’
Hesitantly, I said, ‘I can’t understand anything. To me this place seems bad, unpleasant.’
‘Who says the place is good? But it is a place. Sometimes it becomes important to just have a place. Pramod, why don’t you say clearly what is bothering you?’ She looked at me strangely with a look I did not like.
I said, ‘You will stay here? In this place? How long will you stay here?’
‘For the moment, I am here. If I don’t stay in this hovel, someone else will. These hovels will remain occupied, there are many who are right for these. I don’t know what my situation will be in the future. Yes, I understand that I won’t be able to live here very long.’
‘Where will you go?’
‘Who knows!’
She continued with a small laugh, ‘Do you think that this man with whom I am living will be able to support me for very long? I know that one day he will leave me and go away. That is when it will also be time for me to leave this hovel.’
The calm and natural manner in which she was saying all this was suffocating me. I asked. ‘What will you do then?’
‘What I will do then, do I know that right now? Can I know, even if I try to find out?’
Afraid, I asked again, ‘What?’
‘I won’t become a prostitute, rest assured.’
I became flustered.
She continued, ‘How can one take money from someone to whom one has given one’s body? I can’t understand that. I can understand the necessity of giving one’s body. I will be able to give my body, perhaps that will be necessary. But to take in return? A woman’s duty is to give, nothing else. Isn’t that the ideal held up in front of a virtuous woman? She will be asked for her heart, she will also be asked for her body. But to sell that — no, no, that cannot be. If I think that…’
It did not feel as though she was addressing me; rather, it seemed that she wanted to silence her own imaginings with her answer. I said, ‘Bua, don’t get angry. But I want to know — why did you become this way? Why did you leave your husband?’
Bua looked at me steadily, ‘Do you think it possible that I could ever be angry with you? I did not leave my husband. He left me. I believe in a woman’s duty. I do not believe in her independence. Why should a woman devoted to her husband wish to burden him with her presence when he doesn’t want her? When I understood that he did not even wish to look at me, I removed myself from his sight. He said, “I am not your husband” — after that what right had I to load him with me? This is not the dharma of a woman who is truly devoted to her husband.’
‘Bua, Bua! What are you saying? Why did all this happen?’
‘Why it happened, that is exactly what I shall tell you. After I was married I thought a lot. After much reflection I reached the conclusion that I cannot deceive; deception is a sin. Whatever had happened was over; a married woman must behave towards her husband in the appropriate manner. And for that the first requisite was that she be true to him. Only then could she surrender herself completely to him. Pramod, you know Sheela’s brother?’
I stared at her, taken aback at the question.
‘I received a letter from him. He had written nothing special in the letter, just that he was a civil surgeon now, that he hadn’t married and wouldn’t; that I was married, and so he wished me happiness; and that if there was anything he could do for me, then I should write. It was that letter which had set me thinking and reflecting. I wrote in reply that I was grateful for his letter, but henceforth he should not write to me and that I was trying to be happy. Before I sent my answer, I felt it necessary to mention both these letters to your Uncle. Upon hearing about the letters, he replied that there had been no need to tell him, that if this other man existed, why had I married him? A little later he said I was wicked and evil. I did not protest. From that day onwards, your Uncle began to shun me. I no longer had the right to be angry. He stopped caring about me. I deserved that — I had no right to expect his caring. I would do the chores I had to, and would eat whatever I was given and stay content within that. Despite that, I felt my presence was still hateful to him, and I could understand why. So one day, rather than continue to offend him with my presence, I went to him and told him that if he wished, he could send me away from the house. He said, “Yes, go! Go back to your own family.” I said, “I have cut all ties to my family and come away from them. I can go to them when you are pleased with me, but I cannot return to them if you are angry with me — that is not my dharma.” He replied that in that case I could do whatever I liked, go wherever I wanted to. I asked, “Where should I go? What should I do?” He answered, “Don’t harangue me! Go away!” A few days passed. I was an impediment, an obstacle in his life. One day he suddenly cried, “Go on, get out of here!” I did not fight to disobey him. He took me to a place far away from the town and, providing me with a few necessities, left me there in a hovel. This is the whole story.’
I continued to gaze at Bua — there was no bitterness or anger in her expression. I was amazed — it was as though she had no complaint against what had happened. Thrown into great turmoil, I asked passionately, ‘Why didn’t you come home, Bua? Why did you come here instead with that man?’
She replied, ‘Pramod, how do I explain this to you? I couldn’t go home. I had gone home once and had understood then that it wasn’t right for me to go home in that fashion. A woman is accepted by her own family only as long as she is accepted by her husband. When my ties with my husband broke, my ties with my own family broke automatically.’
I looked at her, perplexed. I couldn’t make much sense of her words — that made me angry and irritable too.
I said, ‘What are you saying? You couldn’t come home! But you could come here and set up house with another man, a stranger? What kind of talk is this?’
‘Yes, true, I could not go home. But I don’t understand your objection to setting up house with “another” man. Besides, why is this man “another”, a stranger, an outsider?’
‘Why is he “another”?’
‘Yes. He isn’t “another”. Do I behave with him as I would with “another”?’
‘Is he your husband?’
‘Husband! I do not know. But my existence is not for me — and yes, undoubtedly at this moment I am engaged in serving him.’
‘Serving him?’
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‘Yes, serving him. Why not? When I was alone in that hole in which your Uncle had left me, I did not die — do you know why? I had expected and I had wanted to die — what was the point of living in that manner? But all at once I understood that He who gave me life, I could accept death on His terms as well. Who was I to choose my death according to the dictates of my own pride? If I had to die of hunger, I could, but how could I knowingly, voluntarily, kill myself? During this time of distress, three days after I had been left there, it was this man who, at considerable risk to himself, had taken the trouble of asking after me. What was so dreadful about that? Perhaps he had been attracted by my beauty, but what blame could I give him for that? He turned a blind eye to all obstacles and came to me. He had his own family, his own circle of friends and acquaintances. But he did not care — he suffered their taunts and their threats and helped me, first secretly, then openly. I had no part in his infidelity. He helped me no more than that, once in a while, he would fetch me a sack of coal, or some provisions, and say a few words of courage and support. I had already turned away from Death; and when, turning away, I resolved to look Life in the face again, this man appeared before me. Was it fair, was it just, that I should turn away from him? I accepted his help with gratitude…’
I stared at Bua; I was in complete turmoil, I did not know what I felt. This bold and resolute woman who sat there in front of me — did I despise her, or was I grateful to her? That woman was regarding me with a deep love that demanded nothing in return, and she was saying, ‘But I had not dreamt that it would be you who would search for me and find me. I had thought that when I would not be able to bear it, then I would, by my own efforts find you and look at you from a distance, and satisfy the longings of my heart. Pramod, you may hate me, but even so I am your Bua.’
I felt desperately helpless — if I could have run away I would have, but I sat there stiff and rigid, as though bound. My heart was heavy. I could not shout in anger, nor could I weep with love.

Mrinal is often written off by readers as masochistic, self-indulgent, or even plain stupid. Perhaps she is all these. But she also exemplifies Jainendra’s ascetic philosophy and struggles with questions of morality and dharma. If, as Mridula Garg suggests, we look at Mrinal from this perspective, “we have to concede that she is a woman of singular courage, who succeeds in discounting the mores practised by society.” Finally, she attains “complete freedom” and can, in the end, “sublimate her personal renunciation to identify with the poorest of the poor”, living with them and serving them “not from a sense of duty but as a fulfilling pursuit” (Garg, 2010). It is this Mrinal that I see.

What do you think of Mrinal? Tell us via the comments box below!