Godaan - literally, the donation of a cow - seems, when this landmark novel of Premchand's first begins, an event unlikely to happen, because the story starts with a poor farmer's desire to somehow buy a cow. Hori, the 40-year old protagonist of the book, owns three meagre bighas of land, is in debt to various moneylenders in his village, and (along with his wife Dhaniya, their 17-year old son Gobardhan 'Gobar' and their two young daughters Sona and Rupa) is living pretty much a hand-to-mouth existence. Affording a cow, in these circumstances, seems a pipe dream. But when, by some give and take, coupled with some rather impulsive promises, Hori does acquire a cow, it appears as if all will be well... until Gobar, having left his beloved pregnant, runs off to Lucknow, and Hori sinks deeper into debt.
But Godaan is by no means only the story of Hori and his family. This is a far wider canvas, and many interwoven stories. There are, of course, Hori's own relatives and fellow villagers: his two estranged brothers and their families; other impoverished villagers, the members of the panchayat, and so on. There are also those who people a world far removed from poor Hori's: that of the local zamindar, Rai Sahib, and his friends: wealthy, urban, successful: Mirza Khurshid; Mr Mehta; Mr Khanna and his long-suffering wife; the frivolous doctor Miss Malti, who encourages the attentions not just of Mr Khanna but of every other man around. And many others.
It becomes obvious, fairly early on, where Premchand's sympathies lie: with the villagers, at the mercy of just about everyone, from the oppressive zamindari system to the moneylenders, the corrupt bureaucracy, the equally corrupt guardians of religion, to their own inability to break free of the shackles of superstition, tradition, and - at times - a misplaced optimism.
Godaan shows well why Premchand is so highly esteemed in Hindi literature: his skill as a storyteller is superb. The characterisations are excellent, all the way from the submissive and downtrodden Hori to the hot-tempered and impulsive (but deep down soft-hearted) Dhaniya, to the selfish Gobar. Of particular note is the characterisation of the women, most of whom are exceptionally strong-willed in their own individual ways, whether for good or bad.
The hypocrisy of the age (and of people, across time and ages), the divide between the poor and the rich, the urban and the rural, the many shades of grey in different characters: Premchand deftly sketches all of these into a story of hope and disappointment, of joy and despair, of ambition and greed and every other human emotion possible. And his language shows a deep understanding of human nature as well as literary brilliance: for example, this section talking about someone who has ignored the excellence of a loved one's character while in the throes of passion, and has only now - after the fire has died down - realised what had been overlooked earlier: "जब तक नदी बाढ़ पर थी, उसके गंदले, तेज़, फेनिल प्रवाह में प्रकाश की किरणें बिखरकर रह जाती थीं। अब प्रवाह स्थिर और शांत हो गया था और रश्मियाँ उसकी तह तक पहुँच रहीं थीं।" ("While the river was in spate, its dirty, fast-flowing, frothing water dispersed the rays of light. Now that the current had died down and gone silent, light was spreading across its surface").
Recommended. The only thing I wish was that there were fewer secondary characters floating around the book. About halfway through, the mini-stories of peripheral characters began to dominate the book, leaving behind the people I was most interested in:Hori and his immediate family. Had the author stuck to a smaller cast of characters and focused only on their stories, I might have liked Godaan even more.