Durasha (False Hope)

Complete English Translation: Durasha (False Hope)

Dramatis Personae

• Dayashankar: An ordinary office clerk, staunch defender of traditional orthodoxy.
• Anandmohan: A college student and friend of Dayashankar, modern in outlook.
• Jyotiswaroop: A distant relative of Dayashankar, working as a lawyer's clerk.
• Sevati: Dayashankar's witty and practical wife.

[Scene: The Night of Holi]

(Time: 9:00 PM. Anandmohan and Dayashankar are walking down the street, conversing animatedly as they make their way towards Dayashankar's house.)

Anandmohan: We aren’t late, are we? It must be barely nine o'clock!

Dayashankar: Not at all, how could we be late?

Anandmohan: Please make sure I don't have to wait an eternity there! For one thing, having roamed from lane to lane playing Holi all day long, I haven't the slightest stamina left to wait; and secondly, the boarding house gate shuts firmly at eleven o'clock sharp.

Dayashankar: My dear friend, the moment you step in, the dinner thali will be placed before you! I specifically instructed Sevati beforehand to have everything ready and waiting by nine.

Anandmohan: Your house is still quite far. My feet have scarcely enough strength left to carry me. Come, let us talk as we walk. Tell me truthfully, what is your candid opinion regarding the purdah system? Will my sister-in-law appear before me, or will she remain secluded? Shall I be fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of her moon-like countenance? Tell me honestly!

Dayashankar: Between you and me, there exists a bond of genuine brotherhood. Even if Sevati were to appear before you unveiled, I would feel no embarrassment whatsoever. But generally speaking, I am an ardent supporter and advocate of the purdah system. Our prevailing social morality is not so immaculate that a respectable woman can venture outside her home without having her modesty wounded.

Anandmohan: In my view, purdah itself is the root cause of all indecent impulses! Seclusion naturally breeds an unhealthy curiosity in the male mind, and that suppressed curiosity reveals itself sometimes in sarcastic banter and sometimes in predatory, leering glances.

Dayashankar: Until our men become so resolute and noble that they are willing to sacrifice their very lives to safeguard a woman's chastity, dismantling the purdah system is tantamount to sowing deadly poison in the path of society.

Anandmohan: According to your theory, one would have to assume that in Europe, rivers of blood flow day and night solely to defend female chastity!

Dayashankar: In Europe, it is this very absence of purdah that has completely uprooted the virtue of chastity! Just recently, I read in a newspaper that a woman filed a lawsuit against a man, alleging that he had brazenly and lustfully stared at her with indecent eyes. But the magistrate, examining the woman from head to foot, dismissed the case, observing that every citizen has the legal right to gaze upon a young woman in public squares and marketplaces! To my mind, both that lawsuit and that verdict appear utterly ludicrous and bring nothing but disgrace upon civilized society.

Anandmohan: Let us drop this tedious topic! Tell me instead, what sumptuous feast are you going to treat me to tonight, my friend? If the feast is not yet in hand, let us at least regale ourselves with talk of it!

Dayashankar: That depends entirely upon Sevati's culinary wizardry! Crisp puris and stuffed kachoris are guaranteed, fried to golden perfection. To the best of her skill, flaky khastas and spiced samosas will certainly appear. One can safely prophesy a rich kheer as well. There will be piping-hot potato and cauliflower curry steeped in thick gravy, accompanied by spiced peas and crunchy dalmoth. I had also put in a word for creamy phirni. Sevati excels particularly in making gular vegetable koftas and spicy potato kebabs. Beyond these, it is superfluous even to mention spiced dahi-badas, tangy chutneys, and pickles! And yes, we might very well be blessed with sweet raisin raita, fragrant with saffron!

Anandmohan: My dear friend, my mouth is positively watering! Your vivid descriptions have infused fresh life into my weary legs. If I had wings, I would fly straight to your doorstep right now!

Dayashankar: Look, here we are at last! This is the tobacconist's shop, and the fourth house past it is mine.

Anandmohan: Mind you, you must sit beside me and eat from the very same platter! I wouldn’t want to feel embarrassed before sister-in-law for eating like a glutton.

Dayashankar: Set your mind completely at ease on that score! She detests frugal eaters. She always says: "A man who cannot eat heartily, what work can he ever accomplish in the world?" Perhaps tonight, thanks to your good company, I too shall earn a place among the world’s robust workers! At least make an earnest effort!

Anandmohan: Brother, I shall exert myself to the utmost limit of my capacity. With any luck, you might walk away with top honors!

Dayashankar: Here we are, we have arrived. Mind your step, the staircase is pitch-black. She must have forgotten to light the lamp.

Anandmohan: No harm done! It was in the land of total darkness that Alexander the Great found the Water of Life!

Dayashankar: The only difference is that if your foot slips in the land of darkness, you tumble into water; but if you slip here, you crash onto hard stone pavement!

(Jyotiswaroop arrives abruptly, puffing for breath.)

Jyotiswaroop: Your humble servant has also presented himself! I haven't kept you waiting, have I? I came double-marching the whole way!

Dayashankar: No, you are not late at all. It seems your voracious appetite has dragged you here ahead of schedule.

Anandmohan: Please introduce me. We haven't had the pleasure of meeting before.

Dayashankar: (Whispering to Anandmohan in English) He is a distant brother-in-law of mine. Works as a clerk to a lawyer. Forever forcing kinship where none exists. Sevati must have invited him; I knew nothing about it. He doesn't understand a syllable of English.

Anandmohan: Well, that’s something to be grateful for! We can speak in English throughout.

Dayashankar: The entire pleasure of the evening is ruined! Eating in the company of such boors is as agonizing as undergoing surgery for a carbuncle.

Anandmohan: We ought to devise some scheme to pack him off.

Dayashankar: My real anxiety is that neither you nor I will ever be counted among the world’s hearty workers tonight. This fellow will sweep the field entirely!

Anandmohan: Well, let us go upstairs. The real fun will be if this worthy gentleman is forced to rise with only half his belly filled!

(The three men climb up the dark stairs into the house.)

Dayashankar: Good heavens! There is no light in the drawing room either—it is pitch-black! Lala Jyotiswaroop, watch your step, mind you don't stumble and fall!

Anandmohan: Argh! Disaster...! (Crashes violently into an almirah and falls to the floor with a loud thud.)

Dayashankar: Lala Jyotiswaroop, did you fall? Have you hurt yourself?

Anandmohan: Confound it, it was me who fell! My spine is practically broken! A fine banquet you have arranged!

Dayashankar: My dear fellow, you have visited this house hundreds of times! Didn't you know the cupboard was right there? Are you badly hurt?

Anandmohan: Go inside! Bring out the dinner platters, and ask sister-in-law to warm up a little oil so I can massage my bruises!

Jyotiswaroop: My dear sir, what have you left lying on the floor here? It has tumbled over!

Dayashankar: You haven't kicked over the spittoon, have you? Yes, exactly what you've done! The entire rug is ruined!

Anandmohan: Brother, for heaven's sake go and fetch a lighted lantern! Where have you dragged us—into some Black Hole of Calcutta?

Dayashankar: (Hurrying inside the inner household) Good grief! It is pitch-dark here as well! Not even a single oil lamp lit! Sevati, where on earth are you?

Sevati: I am sitting right here.

Dayashankar: What is the matter? Why haven't the lamps been lit? Are you unwell?

Sevati: I am perfectly well. So you have finally arrived! I had begun to think I wouldn't be blessed with a glimpse of your noble face tonight.

Dayashankar: Do you have a fever? Since when has it come on?

Sevati: No, no fever or anything of the sort. I am sitting here in utter peace.

Dayashankar: Has your old bout of gastric colic flared up again?

Sevati: (Sarcastically) Yes, indeed, it is gastric colic! Go on, do you have any medicine for it?

Dayashankar: I shall send for the doctor immediately!

Sevati: Have you come into a windfall of free money? Bring it here and hand it over to me; I shall recover instantly!

Dayashankar: You are merely making fun of me! You won't say a single thing plainly. Is this my punishment for returning a few minutes late? I promised to return at nine; perhaps it is only a couple of minutes past nine. Everything is cooked and ready, isn’t it?

Sevati: Oh yes, exceedingly crisp and flaky! Half-and-half pure butter was kneaded into the dough!

Dayashankar: I have been singing your culinary praises to Anandmohan all along the way!

Sevati: God willing, he too will sing my praises! Go and set out the water so they can at least wash their hands.

Dayashankar: You did prepare the chutneys as well, didn't you? Anandmohan is exceptionally fond of chutneys.

Sevati: Feed him as much chutney as his heart desires! I have prepared seers of it!

Dayashankar: Did you add fragrant screwpine essence to the drinking water?

Sevati: Yes, take the water and set it out. Let them begin with water; they must be parched with thirst.

Anandmohan: (Calling out impatiently from the outer room) Friend, come out quickly! We haven't the patience to wait a second longer!

Dayashankar: He is in a desperate hurry. Come, serve the dinner platters!

Sevati: First go and set out the chutney and the water!

Dayashankar: (Going into the kitchen) Hey! The hearth here is stone cold! Did the maid finish all her chores early this morning?

Sevati: Yes, she arrived even before the cooking began!

Dayashankar: All the pots and pans are scrubbed and clean! Did you not cook anything at all?

Sevati: Ghosts and evil spirits must have come and devoured it all!

Dayashankar: What—you didn't even light the stove? This is absolute disaster!

Sevati: Did I create the disaster, or did you?

Dayashankar: I brought home all the provisions and piled them right here! I asked you repeatedly if anything was lacking! Why on earth wasn't the food cooked? What bizarre mystery is this? How on earth can I show my face to those two guests?

Anandmohan: (Calling from outside) Friend, are you polishing off all the delicacies alone in there? People are sitting out here clinging to hope! Our patience is gasping its last breath!

Sevati: If you had truly provided all the necessary provisions, what objection could I possibly have had to cooking?

Dayashankar: Even if an item or two was missing, does that mean the stove shouldn't be lit at all? For what imaginary crime are you punishing me like this? Today is Holi, and not a single spark of fire in the hearth!

Sevati: Until you suffer shocks like this, your eyes will never open!

Dayashankar: You speak in riddles! What are you angry about? What crime have I committed? When I left the house, you were smiling and cheerful; and before that, I had never seen you unhappy. What could possibly have transpired in my absence to make you this resentful?

Sevati: This is the punishment for locking women up as prisoners in their own homes!

Dayashankar: Ah! So this is retribution for that crime! But you never used to condemn the purdah system to me. Whenever the subject was raised, you always seemed to agree with my opinions! Only today do I discover how deeply you despise purdah! Shall I go and inform both our guests: "As punishment for supporting purdah, a complete fast has been decreed in my house—please feast yourselves on the cool evening breeze!"

Sevati: Go and serve whatever is ready, and beg their pardon for what is not!

Dayashankar: I don't see a single thing ready!

Sevati: Why not? The chutney has been ground, and the drinking water is ready and waiting!

Dayashankar: Enough of this joking! Tell me the honest truth—why didn't you cook? Were you feeling ill, or did a stray dog wander in and defile the kitchen?

Anandmohan: (Calling from outside) Why don't you come out, brother? What secret conspiracy are you brewing inside? If every elaborate dish isn't ready, let it be! Bring whatever is at hand! Right now, even plain cold puris would taste more delicious than crisp pastries! Bring something, at least let the auspicious inauguration begin! My friend Munshi Jyotiswaroop is even more ravenous than I am!

Sevati: Poor brother must have skipped his midday meal in eager anticipation of tonight's feast!

Dayashankar: Why do you keep evading my question? Why don't you give me a straight answer?

Sevati: I will not answer! Do I owe you a debt, or am I a bonded slave hired merely to cook your meals?

Dayashankar: If I do not consider myself a slave when working for this household, why should you consider yourself a handmaiden for doing domestic work?

Sevati: I don't consider myself one; you consider me one!

Dayashankar: I am the one who has every right to be furious, and yet you are the one losing your temper!

Sevati: Why should you be angry with me? Merely because you happen to be a man?

Dayashankar: No! Because you have humiliated me today before my friends and relatives!

Sevati: Have you humiliated me, or have I humiliated you? You will somehow manage to make your excuses, but the black stain of disgrace will cling to my face!

Anandmohan: (Calling out) Brother, forgive my intrusion, I am coming inside myself! Not even the faintest aroma of cooking reaches us out here!

Dayashankar: How can I make excuses? I shall be forced to invent some pathetic lie!

Sevati: Serve them chutney and water! That is hospitality enough. It is Holi; consider it part of the festive farce!

Dayashankar: What farce? I will not be able to show my face anywhere! What mischievous devil got into your head?

Sevati: There you go again! Why should I harbor mischief? Did I have some score to settle with you or your friends? When I was utterly helpless, what else could I do? You will fret for ten minutes, vent your anger upon me, and then sleep soundly. But I have been sitting here fretting and grieving since three o'clock this afternoon! And all of this is entirely your doing!

Dayashankar: That is precisely what I am asking—what did I do?

Sevati: You shut me in a cage and clipped my wings! If you place grain before me, I eat; if you pour water into the earthen bowl, I drink! Whose fault is that?

Dayashankar: For heaven's sake, stop talking in allegories! Why don't you tell me plainly?

Anandmohan: (Calling from the outer room) Farewell, my friend, enjoy your feast! If I don't leave now, even the bazaar eateries will shutter their doors! You played a splendid trick on me, friend; we shall settle scores later! Lala Jyotiswaroop has already consigned his disappointment to oblivion with loud snores. I lack such enviable serenity! There aren't even stars visible in this room for me to count. All I can do right now is torment myself by recollecting your mouth-watering menu!

Dayashankar: Brother, grant me two minutes more! I am coming! Ah—tell Lala Jyotiswaroop to go fetch some puris from a sweetmeat shop! The food at home has run short; Sevati took ill this afternoon. There is money kept in my desk drawer!

Sevati: The plain, unvarnished truth is this: your purdah has crippled me completely! Even if someone were to strangle me in this house, I could not raise a cry for help!

Dayashankar: Still speaking in riddles! Will there ever be an end to this?

Sevati: There were no matches in the house! How on earth was I supposed to light the fire?

Dayashankar: Aha! When I left, I slipped the matchbox into my pocket...! And you made such an enormous mountain out of a molehill over a trivial little thing like that? You were simply searching for an excuse to torment me! At least, that is how it appears to me!

Sevati: That is pure injustice on your part! The moment you stepped down the stairs, my eyes fell upon the shelf where the matchbox was kept, and it was gone. I realized at once that you had carried it away. You had barely reached the front doorway. Had I called out loudly, you would have heard me. But the shopkeepers down below would also have heard my voice—and had you found out that other men heard me, who knows what indignity you would have subjected me to! I could only wring my hands in helpless agony. Since that very moment, I have been frantic, hoping against hope to find a matchbox somehow. But I was powerless. In the end, having no other recourse, I sat down in the dark.

Dayashankar: Say rather that you deliberately wanted to vex me! Otherwise, could you not have procured fire or matches from somewhere?

Sevati: Very well, tell me—had you been in my place, what would you have done? Downstairs, every single person is a male shopkeeper, and they all know you well. On one side lives the Panditji; there is no woman in his household. They have been singing Holi songs all day, and hundreds of strange men were gathered there. On the other side lives the Bengali gentleman; the women of his household went to visit relatives and have not returned. Even to borrow fire from either of them would have required me to step out onto the open balcony. But surely you would never have forgiven such a breach of purdah! And who else was there for me to ask to fetch fire? The maid finished washing the utensils and departed right before your very eyes. Again and again, my blood boiled with fury at you!

Dayashankar: I can appreciate something of your helplessness, but I still find it difficult to concede that the absence of a matchbox was the genuine reason for leaving the hearth cold!

Sevati: I ask you directly: tell me, what would you have done?

Dayashankar: My mind is not composed at this moment, but I am convinced that had I been in your place—on Holi day, and with guests arriving—the hearth would never have remained cold! I would have devised some way out!

Sevati: Such as what?

Dayashankar: I would have scribbled a note and tossed it down before one of the shopkeepers below!

Sevati: Had I done that, you would have accused me of exchanging secret glances and disgraced me for life!

Dayashankar: When darkness fell, I would have draped a sheet from head to foot, slipped outside, and brought back a box of matches! Within an hour or two, something would certainly have been ready! We wouldn't have been subjected to such total starvation!

Sevati: Had I stepped into the bazaar, you would have branded me a woman who roams the streets and would have been ready to slit my throat! You never granted me such freedom! Even when I go to bathe at the river, the curtains of the carriage are pulled tight shut!

Dayashankar: Very well, you win and I lose! I have received a permanent lesson today: in such dire emergencies, you are granted full liberty to step out of the house!

Sevati: I do not call this an emergency! A true emergency is when someone falls critically ill at home and must be rushed to the doctor.

Dayashankar: Undoubtedly, that is an emergency. In such circumstances, there would be no restriction on your going.

Sevati: Shall I enumerate other emergencies as well?

Dayashankar: No, sister, I leave that judgment entirely to your good sense!

Anandmohan: (Calling from outside) Friend, the limits of my endurance have been exhausted; my soul is in torment! May your household prosper—I take my leave!

Dayashankar: Just one minute more! I am coming right out!

Sevati: Take the chutney and water out to them, and send for puris from the market. What else can possibly be done at this hour?

Dayashankar: (Entering the drawing room carrying the tray) I have brought drinking water, and here is spicy chutney in bowls. Please partake of these for the moment; I shall return in an instant!

Anandmohan: God be praised! So you did emerge after all! I thought you had taken vows of hermit solitude! But you emerge bearing only bowls of chutney! What became of all those mouth-watering delicacies you promised, whose memory I have been cherishing with romantic devotion?

Dayashankar: Where has Jyotiswaroop gone?

Anandmohan: He is roaming in the celestial spheres above! What an extraordinary, detached ascetic of a man—he fell asleep the instant he arrived and hasn't stirred since!

Dayashankar: A dreadful catastrophe occurred in my household. How else can I describe it? Every single provision was present, but no fire was lit in the hearth!

Anandmohan: Splendid! That tops everything! You must have run out of firewood.

Dayashankar: There is a mountain of firewood piled inside! Only recently, an entire cartload of wood arrived from the village. There were simply no matches!

Anandmohan: (Bursting into uproarious laughter) Ha, ha, ha! Bravo! What a magnificent farce! A trivial oversight has shattered the entire glorious dream! At least my goose is well and truly cooked!

Dayashankar: What can I say, my friend? I am utterly mortified! I swear to you in all honesty: from this day forth, I have become a sworn enemy of the purdah system! The shackles of this wretched, accursed custom have betrayed me on the very day of Holi in a manner I could never have imagined! Tell me now, shall I fetch fresh puris from the bazaar? They will still be hot and fresh.

Anandmohan: I know the way to the bazaar myself! Do not trouble yourself. I shall go and eat at the boarding house. As for this gentleman snoring here, in my opinion, it is best not to disturb him. Let him snore away; when he wakes at dawn, he can find his own way home.

Dayashankar: It breaks my heart to see you leave like this! What grand plans we had made, and what has come of them! We would have relished samosas and koftas, bantering and gossiping away into the night! All our hopes have turned to dust! God willing, I shall soon make full amends for this!

Anandmohan: I am overjoyed by one thing alone: your rigid dogma has been shattered! Now, grant me permission to step inside and offer my sincere gratitude to sister-in-law.

Dayashankar: By all means, go right ahead!

Anandmohan: (Stepping into the inner quarters) Sister-in-law, I offer you my most respectful prostrations! Although tonight's imaginary banquet has certainly resulted in durasha—in utter disappointment and false hope—that disappointment is nothing compared to the immense joy I feel at the revolution in my friend's thinking! The profound lesson that a humble box of matches has imparted tonight could never have been achieved by millions of learned philosophical arguments! For this great service, I thank you with all my heart! From this day forward, my dear friend will never be an advocate of purdah—that is my firm and unshakeable conviction!

(Curtain Falls)

Summary of Durasha

Durasha ("False Hope") is a lively satirical farce exposing the absurdity, impracticality, and domestic paralysis caused by the purdah system (the strict seclusion and veiling of women). Dayashankar, an ordinary office clerk, is a pompous defender of female seclusion, arguing that women must remain confined strictly within the four walls of the home to preserve modesty and moral sanctity.

On the festive night of Holi, Dayashankar invites his progressive college-student friend, Anandmohan, home for a magnificent dinner, boasting lavishly about the delectable dishes his wife Sevati is preparing—crisp puris, flaky kachoris, stuffed samosas, vegetable koftas, kheer, and saffron raita. Joined along the way by Jyotiswaroop, an uninvited, greedy relative who works as a lawyer's clerk, the men arrive at Dayashankar's house only to stumble through pitch darkness. Anandmohan crashes painfully into a cupboard, while Jyotiswaroop overturns a spittoon.

Hurrying into the kitchen to reprimand his wife, Dayashankar finds Sevati sitting peacefully in the dark and discovers that the hearth is stone cold. When he demands an explanation, Sevati reveals the truth: when Dayashankar left the house earlier, he had inadvertently pocketed the household matchbox. Because the purdah system strictly forbids her from raising her voice from the staircase where street shopkeepers might hear her, or stepping onto the street to purchase matches, or calling upon male neighbors, she was left utterly helpless without fire to ignite the stove.

When Dayashankar foolishly suggests she should have thrown a written note down to male shopkeepers or slipped outside in a veil at midnight, Sevati sharply reminds him that had she done so, he would have accused her of unchastity and threatened violence. Trapped by his own reactionary ideology, Dayashankar is thoroughly humiliated before his guests, who are offered only bowls of chutney and water.

Humbled by this farcical disaster on a major festival, Dayashankar renounces the purdah system forever. Anandmohan joyfully steps inside to thank Sevati, noting that a single forgotten matchbox accomplished what millions of scholarly debates could never achieve. The play ends on this triumphant note of practical enlightenment.

Publication History

Durasha ("False Hope") was written by Munshi Premchand during the mid-to-late 1920s—a period when the anti-purdah movement gained immense momentum in North India through social reform platforms and nationalist women's organizations. It was later included in Volume 6 of Premchand's authoritative short-fiction collection Mansarovar. Uniquely structured as a dramatic one-act farce (prahasan), the piece was designed both for reading and for stage performance at community gatherings and amateur theater clubs to provoke laughter while dismantling reactionary orthodoxies.

This unabridged English translation was published in 2026 by MunshiPremchand.com as part of the MunshiPremchand.com English Translation Series.

Themes & Critical Significance

• The Practical Absurdity of Purdah: Rather than delivering an abstract moral lecture, Premchand uses an everyday domestic mishap—a forgotten matchbox—to demonstrate how female seclusion paralyzes domestic life and renders women helpless in emergency situations.
• Satire on Bourgeois Hypocrisy: Dayashankar proudly defends purdah with grandiose rhetoric about cultural purity and modesty, but when confronted with practical alternatives (throwing notes to male shopkeepers, sneaking out in a sheet), his own hypocrisy and double standards are unmasked.
• The Caged Bird Metaphor: Sevati’s poignant declaration—that purdah has clipped her wings and reduced her to a caged bird dependent entirely on what grain is pushed into her bowl—serves as a biting critique of patriarchal dominance masked as protective honor.
• The Dramatic Farce as an Instrument of Reform: By employing slapstick elements (stumbling in the dark, stubbed toes, overturned spittoons, snoring relatives) alongside witty, rapid-fire dialogue, Premchand harnesses theater to make social reform entertaining and universally persuasive.
• The Triumph of Lived Reality over Dogma: As Anandmohan remarks at the conclusion, dogmatic theories and conservative traditions cannot withstand the undeniable weight of practical everyday reality.