Complete English Translation: Bade Bhai Sahab
Part 1 — Bhai Sahab, Discipline, and Dread
My elder brother was five years older than me, but only three grades ahead.
My elder brother was five years older than me, but only three grades ahead. He had started his schooling at the very same age I did; but in a matter of such monumental importance as education, he thoroughly disliked taking hasty steps. He wished to lay a firm, unshakeable foundation for this edifice so that a magnificent palace might safely be erected upon it. He would spend two full years over one year's work; sometimes he even took three. If the foundation itself were not rock-solid, how could the house ever prove durable?
Age and Authority
I was young, and he was older. I was nine years old; he was fourteen. He possessed the complete, birthright authority to supervise and reprimand me, and my propriety lay strictly in regarding his every word as law.
A Studious Disposition
By nature, he was exceptionally studious. He would sit with an open book before him at all times; and perhaps to afford his overworked brain some rest, he would doodle pictures of birds, dogs, and cats on his notebooks and the margins of his textbooks. Sometimes he would write the exact same name, word, or sentence ten or twenty times over. At times, he would copy out a line of verse repeatedly in exquisite calligraphy. Now and then he composed bizarre strings of words that possessed neither rhyme nor reason!
Special, Ameena, brothers-brothers, in truth, brother-brother, Radheshyam, Shriyut Radheshyam, for one hour—
Beneath this was drawn the outline of a man's face.
I made several earnest attempts to decipher this riddle, but failed; and I lacked the courage to ask him. He was in the ninth grade, while I was in the fifth. To comprehend his literary creations was, for me, a case of a small mouth trying to speak big words.
My Nature — Flight from Studies
My heart was not in studies at all. Sitting with a book for even an hour felt like scaling a mountain. The moment an opportunity arose, I would slip out of the hostel onto the open sports ground. Sometimes I would toss pebbles; sometimes I would flutter paper butterflies; and if I chanced upon a companion, what more could one ask for? We would climb the boundary wall and leap down, or swing back and forth upon the iron gate, enjoying the imaginary thrill of driving a motorcar.
Entering the Room — The Moment of Terror
However, the instant I stepped back into the room, my heart would turn to water at the sight of Bhai Sahab's furious, terrifying countenance. His very first question would invariably be:
"Where were you?"
Always the exact same question, delivered in the exact same voice! And for an answer, I had only silence. I do not know why the simple words—"I was just playing outside for a little while"—never managed to pass my lips. My silence announced my confession of guilt, and for Bhai Sahab, no alternative remained except to welcome me with words steeped in fury.
The Dressing-Down and Lecture
"If you study English like this, you will keep studying your entire life and not learn a single letter! Mastering English is no child's play that anyone who pleases can pick it up; otherwise every Tom, Dick, and Harry would become an English scholar! Here one must strain one's eyes day and night and burn one's very blood before this learning is acquired. And even when it is acquired—well, it is only for name's sake! Even great scholars cannot write grammatically correct English, let alone speak it! And I ask you, what an absolute dunce are you that you do not take a lesson even from looking at me? You see with your own eyes how relentlessly I toil; and if you do not see it, the fault lies with your eyes and your intellect! Fairs and carnivals take place all the time—have you ever seen me going to watch them? Cricket and hockey matches are played every single day, yet I do not venture anywhere near them. I remain buried in my books at all times, and even then I remain stuck in the same grade for two or three years! How then do you expect to pass by squandering your time in play and games? It takes me only two or three years; you will rot in this same grade all your life! If you are so bent upon wasting your years like this, you had better pack up, go home, and play tip-cat to your heart's content! Why waste our father's hard-earned money?"
Listening to this scathing rebuke, tears would stream from my eyes. What answer could I possibly give? The offense was mine, so who else should bear the scolding? Bhai Sahab was an absolute virtuoso in the art of lecturing. He aimed such piercing barbs and shot such stinging arrows of wisdom that my spirit was shattered and my courage deserted me.
Despair and Resolution
I could not find within myself the capacity to work myself to death in that fashion, and in moments of despair I would briefly contemplate: Why not simply return home? Why ruin my life by putting my hands to a task that lies far beyond my strength? I was perfectly content to remain ignorant, but labor of that magnitude made my head spin with dizziness!
Yet within an hour or two, the dark clouds of despair would disperse, and I would firmly resolve that henceforth I would study with total, unwavering dedication.
The Timetable
Instantly, I would draft a comprehensive timetable! How could one embark upon work without preparing a blueprint beforehand, without fashioning an elaborate scheme? In this timetable, the provision for games and play was completely wiped out!
Wake up at dawn; at six o'clock wash hands and face, take breakfast, and sit down to study. From six to eight English, eight to nine Arithmetic, nine to nine-thirty History; then meals and off to school. Return from school at three-thirty, rest for half an hour. From four to five Geography, five to six Grammar, stroll for half an hour before the hostel. From six-thirty to seven English Composition, followed by dinner; then Translation from eight to nine, Hindi from nine to ten, miscellaneous subjects from ten to eleven, and thereafter rest.
Failure of the Scheme
Yet drawing up a timetable is one thing, and adhering to it is quite another! From the very first day, its violation commenced. The delightful emerald expanse of the playing fields, the gentle caress of the breezes, the bounding energy of football, the cunning dodges and lunges of kabaddi, the swiftness and agility of volleyball—all pulled me outward with an unseen, irresistible magnetism. The moment I arrived upon the ground, I forgot everything! That murderous timetable, those eye-straining books were completely banished from thought; and once again, Bhai Sahab was afforded the golden opportunity to admonish and chastise me.
I began fleeing from his very shadow, striving to remain out of his sight. I would creep into the room with steps so stealthy that he would not notice. But the moment his eyes turned toward me, the life drained from my limbs! It felt as though a naked sword hung suspended over my head at every waking instant. Yet, just as a human being remains hopelessly entangled in the bonds of worldly attachment even amidst death and calamity, so too, despite receiving countless rebukes and scoldings, I could never bring myself to renounce games and play.
Part 2 — Success, Pride, and the Sermon
Examination Results
The annual examinations arrived. Bhai Sahab failed; I passed and stood first in my grade! Now the gap between him and me was reduced to merely two years.
A mischievous impulse flickered in my heart to confront Bhai Sahab directly: "Where has all your severe penance gone? Look at me—I played to my heart's content and still topped the class!" But he was so heartbroken and dejected that I felt deep, genuine sympathy for him, and the very thought of rubbing salt into his open wounds felt utterly shameful.
Budding Arrogance
Yes, I certainly acquired a measure of pride in myself, and my self-esteem expanded. Bhai Sahab's awe and terror over me disappeared. I began participating in games and sports with open freedom. My heart was stout: if he ever scolded me again, I would state plainly: "What great milestone did you conquer by burning your blood? I played around and still topped the class!" Although I lacked the audacity to voice this impudence aloud, my demeanor made it unmistakably evident that Bhai Sahab's terror no longer held sway over me.
Bhai Sahab's Outburst
Bhai Sahab sensed this immediately—his intuitive intellect was sharp. One morning, when I returned right at lunchtime after spending the entire dawn playing tip-cat, Bhai Sahab drew his metaphorical sword and pounced upon me:
"I see that passing this year and topping your grade has gone straight to your head! But my dear brother, even the greatest monarchs could not preserve their pride—what standing do you have? You must have read the history of Ravana. What lesson did you take from his life? Or did you merely skim through the words? Merely passing an examination is nothing; the real thing is the cultivation of intellect! Understand the deeper meaning of whatever you read!"
Ravana and Pride
"Ravana was the undisputed sovereign of the entire earth. Such monarchs are styled Chakravarti. In our times, the British Empire has expanded vast dominions, yet they cannot truly be called Chakravarti. Many sovereign nations across the globe refuse to accept British suzerainty—they are entirely independent. But Ravana was a true Chakravarti monarch. All the kings of the world paid tribute to him; the greatest gods were his bounden slaves! Even the deities of Fire and Water served him! Yet what was his ultimate end? Pride wiped out his very name and trace—not a single soul remained even to offer him a palmful of water at his funeral rites! A man may commit whatever wickedness he pleases, but he must never harbor pride, nor boast! The instant pride takes hold, a man is lost to both this world and the hereafter!"
Satan and Ego
"You must have read of Satan as well. He succumbed to the vanity of believing that no truer, greater devotee of the Almighty existed than him. In the end, he was cast out from Heaven and hurled into Hell! The King of Rome also boasted of his majesty once; he ended his days begging for alms from door to door! You have passed merely a single grade, and your head is already turned—how will you ever advance further? Understand this clearly: you did not pass through your own merit or industry; an accidental quail merely fell into a blind man's hands! But a quail falls into a blind man's hands only once, not over and over again! Sometimes in tip-cat, too, a blind shot strikes the mark, but that does not make one a master player. A true master player is one whose aim never misses!"
Difficulties Ahead
"Do not judge by my failure! When you enter my grade, you will sweat through your teeth! You will have to chew iron chickpeas when you are confronted with Algebra and Geometry, and read the history of England! Memorizing the names of kings is no laughing matter! There were eight King Henrys! Do you imagine it is simple to recall which historic event occurred during which Henry's reign? Write Henry VIII in place of Henry VII, and all your marks vanish! Clean sweep! You will not receive even a zero! What world are you living in? There were dozens of Jameses, dozens of Williams, scores of Charleses! The brain begins to spin; one contracts a blinding vertigo! These wretched chroniclers could not even find new names—they simply affixed the labels Second, Third, Fourth, and Fifth to the identical name! Had they consulted me, I could have supplied them with ten lakh distinct names!"
Geometry and the Examination System
"And Geometry—God protect us! Write A-C-B instead of A-B-C, and every mark is docked! No one ever demands of these merciless examiners: what, after all, is the difference between A-B-C and A-C-B, and why do you murder students over such trivialities? Whether one eats lentils, rice, and bread, or rice, lentils, and bread—what earthly difference does it make? But what do these examiners care? They care only for what is inscribed in the textbook! They desire that boys memorize every syllable verbatim, and to this rote-parroting they have given the noble name of 'education'! And after all, what possible benefit can arise from studying such senseless rubbish?"
The Irony of Essay Writing
"'Drop a perpendicular upon this line, and the base will be double the perpendicular.' Ask them: what is the practical purpose of this? Let it be double, quadruple, or remain half—what concern is it of mine? But if one desires to pass the examination, one is forced to memorize all this nonsense! They order: 'Write an essay on Punctuality in no less than four pages.' Now open your notebook, hold your pen in hand, and weep over the title!"
Punctuality — A Satire
"Who does not know that punctuality is a splendid virtue? It brings discipline to a man's conduct, earns him the affection of others, and causes his affairs to prosper. But how does one stretch such a simple point over four full pages? Why write in four pages what can be stated in a single sentence? I consider it sheer idiocy! This is not economy of time, but its gross misuse—to pad an essay with useless words! We want a man to speak what he has to say concisely and be on his way. But no—you are compelled to blacken four full foolscap sheets, no matter how you write! If this is not tyranny over students, what else is it? And the supreme absurdity is that they instruct: 'Write in brief!' Write a brief essay on punctuality in no less than four pages! Splendid! 'In brief' means four pages; otherwise they would have made us write a hundred or two hundred pages! Run swiftly, yet run slowly! Is this not utter topsy-turvy logic?"
The Claim of Experience
"Even an infant can grasp this simple truth, yet these teachers lack even that much sense! And on top of it, they assert: 'We are teachers!' When you enter my grade, young man, you will have to roll all these heavy flatbreads, and then you will truly learn the price of flour and lentils! Because you topped your grade, your feet no longer touch the earth. Therefore, heed my words: I may have failed a hundred times, but I am older than you, and I possess far greater experience of this world than you do! Mark what I say, or you will bitterly repent!"
Return of Fear
The school hour was drawing near; otherwise, God alone knows when this garland of sermons would have concluded. Lunch tasted entirely flat and flavorless to me today. If passing brought such humiliation, failing would probably cost me my very life!
The terrifying portrait Bhai Sahab had painted of his grade's curriculum filled me with dread. How I did not abandon school and flee home that very instant remains a mystery; yet despite such severe humiliation, my distaste for books remained unchanged. I let slip no opportunity for sports. I studied, yes, but very little—just enough to complete the daily assignment so that I would not be shamed before the class. The self-confidence that had briefly blossomed within me vanished once more, and I returned to leading the stealthy life of a thief.
Part 3 — Experience, Compassion, and Authority
Examinations Once Again
The annual examinations arrived once more, and by some extraordinary stroke of fortune, I passed again and Bhai Sahab failed again! I had not labored excessively, yet somehow I topped the grade once more. I was astonished myself. Bhai Sahab had exerted mortal, agonizing labor. He had devoured every single syllable of the syllabus; he studied until ten at night, rose at four in the morning, and toiled from six to nine-thirty before leaving for school. His countenance had turned pale and lusterless; yet the wretched fellow failed!
Awakening of Compassion
I felt deep, agonizing pity for him. When the results were declared, he broke down and wept, and I began weeping alongside him. The joy of my own triumph was halved. Had I failed as well, Bhai Sahab would not have felt such crushing sorrow—but who can avert the decrees of destiny?
Conflict of Mind
Between Bhai Sahab and me, there now remained a gap of only one single grade. A wicked, cunning thought arose in my heart: If Bhai Sahab should fail just one more year, I will become his equal! Then upon what moral authority will he ever be able to chastise me? But I forcibly banished this vile thought from my soul. After all, he scolded me only out of concern for my own welfare! It felt bitter at the moment, certainly, but perhaps it was the very influence of his ceaseless sermons that caused me to pass so effortlessly and with such outstanding marks!
Changed Demeanor
This time, Bhai Sahab had softened considerably. On several occasions, even when he found ample opportunity to reprimand me, he exercised admirable patience. Perhaps he himself had begun to realize that he no longer retained the right to scold me—or if he did, it was severely diminished. My freedom grew accordingly, and I began taking unfair advantage of his forbearance.
Passion for Kites
I formed a firm conviction that I was destined to pass whether I studied or not—my good fortune was invincible! Consequently, even the small amount of study I used to perform out of fear of Bhai Sahab ceased altogether. I acquired a passionate new obsession for flying paper kites (kanakauye), and now my entire day was sacrificed to kite-flying. Yet I still held Bhai Sahab in deep respect, and flew kites stealthily out of his sight. Preparing kite-strings, tying bridles, organizing kite matches—all these intricate problems were now resolved in secret. I never wished him to suspect that my reverence and regard for him had diminished in the slightest.
The Chase for the Kite
One evening, far from the hostel, I was sprinting recklessly down the street to capture a drifting, severed kite. My eyes were fixed upon the heavens, tracking that airborne traveler as it swayed gently downward toward its fall—like some pure soul departing heaven to assume a new worldly incarnation. An entire battalion of young boys armed with long poles and thorny bamboo sticks was running to welcome it. Not a soul had any awareness of what lay ahead or behind; everyone felt as though they were soaring in the sky alongside that kite, where all is smooth and level, free of motorcars, trams, or carts.
The Encounter
Suddenly, I collided head-on with Bhai Sahab, who was returning from the bazaar! He caught my hand firmly on the spot and spoke with intense sternness:
"Aren't you ashamed to be sprinting through the streets alongside these bazaar urchins for the sake of a two-paisa kite? Have you no regard for the fact that you are no longer in the primary grades, but have entered the eighth grade, and stand merely one class below me? A man must have some consideration for his station in life!"
Status, Stature, and Examples
"There was an era when men who passed the eighth grade became Naib Tehsildars! I know scores of middle-school graduates who today serve as first-class Deputy Magistrates or Superintendents! How many eighth-grade pass-outs are our eminent political leaders and newspaper editors! Great scholars labor under their administration, and here you are, having reached that very same eighth grade, running through the dust with street urchins for the sake of a kite!"
Experience versus Bookish Learning
"I grieve at your lack of sense! You are intelligent, there is no doubt; but of what value is an intellect that murders one's own self-respect? You must be thinking in your heart: 'I am just one grade below Bhai Sahab, and now he has no right to admonish me.' But that is your profound mistake!"
"I am five years older than you! Even if you enter my very grade today—and given the state of examiners, you will undoubtedly become my classmate next year, and perhaps step ahead of me the year after—the five-year difference between us can never be erased by you, nor even by God Almighty!"
The Wisdom of Life
"The experience of the world and of human life that I possess can never be equaled by you, even if you acquire M.A., Ph.D., and D.Litt. degrees! Wisdom does not arrive from reading books. Our mother never passed a single grade, and our father perhaps never advanced beyond the fifth class; yet even if we master all the learning in the world, Mother and Father will always retain the absolute right to guide, counsel, and correct us!"
Practical Wisdom
"God forbid, if I were to fall ill today, you would lose your wits! You would think of nothing except sending an urgent telegram to Father. But if Father were in your place, he would send a telegram to no one, nor panic, nor lose his head! He would first diagnose the ailment himself and treat it; and only if that failed would he summon a doctor."
The Lesson of Household Management
"You and I do not even know how to make a monthly allowance last the full month. Whatever Father sends us, we squander by the twentieth or twenty-second, and then become desperate for every single paisa! Our breakfast stops, and we begin hiding our faces from the washerman and the barber! Yet on half of what you and I spend today, Father managed the major portion of his life with honor and spotless reputation, sustaining a family that numbered nine souls in all!"
The Headmaster's Example
"Look at our own Headmaster Sahib! He holds an M.A.—and not from here, but from Oxford University! He receives a salary of one thousand rupees a month; yet who manages his household? His aged, unlettered mother! The Headmaster Sahib's Oxford degree proved utterly useless there!"
The Final Warning
"So, my brother, banish completely from your heart the notion that you have drawn close to me in grade and are now an independent master of yourself! So long as I am here to watch over you, I will never permit you to walk astray! If you will not listen to words, I can resort to this (raising his hand for a slap) as well! I know full well that my words taste like bitter poison to you."
The Moment of Epiphany
I bowed my head in complete surrender before this profound, unanswerable logic. Today, I truly recognized my own smallness, and an overwhelming reverence for Bhai Sahab welled up from the depths of my soul.
With tear-filled eyes, I whispered: "Not at all! Whatever you are saying is absolute truth, and you have every rightful authority to say it."
Brotherly Love
Bhai Sahab drew me into a warm embrace and said with tender affection: "I do not forbid you from flying kites—my own heart longs to play! But what can I do? If I walk astray myself, how could I ever protect you? This sacred duty rests upon my shoulders as your elder brother."
The Final Scene
By a miraculous coincidence, at that very instant, a severed kite drifted right over our heads, its trailing cord dangling low. A flock of neighborhood boys came running eagerly behind it. Bhai Sahab, being tall, leaped into the air, caught the dangling string, and bolted recklessly toward the hostel!
And I was running right behind him, brimming with joy.
Summary of Bade Bhai Sahab
Bade Bhai Sahab by Munshi Premchand is an immortal classic of Hindi literature, capturing the complex, humorous, and affectionate relationship between two brothers living in a school hostel. The elder brother, five years senior, approaches education with immense gravity, convinced that the foundations of learning must be laid slowly and thoroughly. He spends exhaustive hours buried in textbooks and subjects his younger brother to fierce lectures on the perils of wasted time and play.
The younger brother, by contrast, is a spirited child whose heart belongs to the playing fields, football, kabaddi, and kite-flying. Whenever he designs a rigorous study timetable, it inevitably collapses under the irresistible call of outdoor games. Yet, the annual examinations produce shocking outcomes: the studious elder brother fails repeatedly, while the carefree younger brother effortlessly tops his class each year.
As the academic gap narrows to a single grade, the younger brother develops a subtle vanity. However, during a dramatic confrontation when the elder brother catches him chasing a kite through the streets, Bhai Sahab delivers an unforgettable sermon. He explains that textbook memorization and exam degrees cannot equal the maturity, practical wisdom, and life experience gained through age. Using poignant domestic examples—their parents' frugality, the Headmaster's domestic reliance on his mother, and his own moral responsibility to guide his younger sibling—Bhai Sahab dismantles the boy's pride. In a poignant, joyous finale, the elder brother's stern facade melts as he leaps up to catch a falling kite string, running happily toward the hostel with his younger brother in tow.
Publication History
Bade Bhai Sahab was written by Munshi Premchand and originally published in December 1910 in the prestigious Urdu literary journal Zamana. It was subsequently translated into Hindi by Premchand himself, appearing in several foundational anthologies before being permanently enshrined in Mansarovar, Volume 1 (मानसरोवर भाग 1).
This unabridged English translation was published in 2026 by MunshiPremchand.com as part of the MunshiPremchand.com English Translation Series.
Themes & Critical Significance
- Bookish Knowledge versus Practical Wisdom: Premchand makes a profound distinction between rote academic memorization and genuine worldly wisdom. Degrees and high marks cannot compensate for the practical discernment acquired through life experience.
- The Burden of Elder Guardianship: Beneath Bhai Sahab's stern discipline lies a quiet, selfless sacrifice. To serve as a role model for his younger sibling, he suppresses his own natural childhood impulses to play and enjoy life.
- Satire on Colonial Education: Through biting, hilarious observations about arbitrary essay lengths, memorizing endless royal lineages, and rigid geometry proofs, Premchand brilliantly exposes the mechanical, uncreative nature of the colonial examination system.
- Pride, Humility, and Moral Epiphany: The younger brother's growing arrogance is dismantled not through physical punishment, but through moral and philosophical reasoning, emphasizing that pride leads to the downfall of even the mightiest rulers.
- Tender Brotherly Affection: The story balances humor and pathos, demonstrating that beneath the strict rules and scoldings lies unconditional brotherly love. The final kite-chasing scene beautifully celebrates the enduring innocence of childhood.