Writers such as Premchand, Nirmal
Verma, and Priyamvad have demonstrated how Hindi fiction can simultaneously
reflect local realities and universal human concerns.
Within this rich tradition,
Dinesh Awasthi’s short story collection Sannad stands out as a
remarkable contribution. Comprising twenty-four stories, the collection
demonstrates Awasthi’s mastery of brevity, precision, and humanistic depth.
Awasthi’s writing reflects
Hemingway’s “iceberg theory” in its economy of expression—every word is
purposeful, nothing superfluous. His stories resemble meditations on life,
death, love, hatred, compassion, sensitivity, grievance, and nature, yet
what ultimately triumphs is a profound sense of humanism. Above all, his
stories triumph through their deep humanism. Short, crisp, and pithy, they
embody the essence of true storytelling. Much like Priyamvad and Nirmal
Verma, Awasthi’s narratives often serve as descriptive analyses of human
existence.
Importantly, Awasthi does not write
for awards or recognition. His stories are warnings to humanity: without
compassion and love, society risks self-destruction. His use of
defamiliarization—a technique that compels readers to see
familiar realities in new and unsettling ways—sets his work apart.
The story
Purna Dand
opens dramatically, centering on an elderly man who takes daily morning
walks. The narrator joins him, measuring distance through the music flowing
into his earphones, following his doctor’s advice. As their relationship
grows, the narrator visits his home and learns that the man is a professor
at a local college—unmarried, sophisticated, and deeply introspective. He
seems to punish himself by constantly searching for his own deficiencies.
Death, viewed as eternal, permeates the narrative, while the protagonist
emerges as solitary, disconnected, and a misfit in contemporary society,
despite possessing all human qualities. The writer’s eye for detail extends
even to astronomy. Philosophically, Awasthi suggests that punishment can
never be complete, since crime itself is never complete—a strikingly
original idea in modern Hindi fiction.
Adhura Syllabus begins abruptly, exploring
art, artists, and artistry. One character even promises to create a
“syllabus of grief.” Postmodern in its open-endedness, the story recalls the
works of Nirmal Verma, Vinod Kumar Shukla, and Priyamvad, while also evoking
Elizabeth Bowen and Milan Kundera. It ends unresolved, with Shekharjee
seeking Pushpajee—hinting at unspoken love. The narrative also resonates
with Monaj Das’s
The Misty Hour.
In
Shobnom Mosi, the protagonist is the first queer MLA in Madhya
Pradesh. Assertive and dominating, she challenges the Brahmin identity of
the narrator. The story, full of digressions, reflects on philanthropy,
atomic bombs, and human compassion. Mosi’s desire to abolish nuclear weapons
underscores her humane nature.
One of the hallmarks of
Sannad
is its character-driven narratives. Awasthi crafts protagonists who embody
contradictions, vulnerabilities, and resilience.
The protagonist of the story
Ramendrajee
is also its title character. Ramendrajee is six feet tall, quite healthy,
and possesses a strikingly glamorous face. The narrator recalls having
maintained a relationship with him for the past twenty-five years. Honest
and strong-willed, Ramendrajee is unselfish and upright. Yet, in recent
days, he has grown intolerant of those who flaunt wealth, particularly car
owners. He explains that his intolerance stems from the ability to see
through façades and uncover the real person beneath. A similar metaphor is
applied to bees. Despite finding negativity unbearable, Ramendrajee admits
he is helpless. Like many successful individuals, he has endured great
struggles.
According to him, if one nurtures a
detective-like mentality, they will be satisfied knowing no one can deceive
them. The narrator, however, warns that if Ramendrajee cultivates grievances
about everything, he will become overburdened. Ramendrajee responds that at
seventy-plus years of age, he no longer cares if people misunderstand him.
Yet, in the past, he was short-tempered with opponents who insulted him,
mocking their wealth and ridiculing their shallow thinking. The story
portrays Ramendrajee as a man who lives life on his own terms. It is a
character-driven narrative that also explores boredom and death.
In
Dambh,
Riteshjee speaks with control and confidence about every aspect of life. The
central question, however, is whether such conduct has truly benefitted him.
The story conveys boredom and frustration. Riteshjee is falsely accused of
theft, a blatant lie that reflects the jealousy of others. Suppressed grief
and frustration, if not expressed, eventually erupt like a volcano. Here,
sorrow becomes contemplation, and happiness and sadness are shown as
complementary. Human beings fear death, yet many die daily from that very
fear. When Riteshjee visits a doctor and waits two hours for an appointment,
he grows frustrated but occasionally accepts reality. His epiphanic
realization comes while lying under anesthesia for a dental implant. Despite
psychological research, he believes psychology yields little positive
result, dismissing it as a useless subject. The story explores the dichotomy
between pride and melancholy, suggesting that pride and selfishness distance
one from love. Towards the end, Riteshjee discusses divorce, attributing the
breakdown of marriages to pride.
Karwi Muskan introduces Narmadajee, a woman
who has undergone surgery and is now adjusting to the importance of oxygen.
Though oxygen is abundant, its value is realized only when it becomes
scarce. Narmadajee resumes her normal activities without assistance but
grows irritable when drenched in water. She reflects on her love for
Poritosh, realizing that separation intensifies affection. Love, she muses,
is a blessing when it arrives early, but when delayed, something essential
is lost.
Respected for her dignity, learning,
and strong personality, Narmadajee nevertheless faces hostility for opposing
corruption. Even within her college, colleagues conspire against her, but
she remains undeterred. Victimized by patriarchy, she nevertheless maintains
extraordinary attachment to her son. Her uncompromising honesty and
intolerance of corruption exact a heavy price, occasionally disrupting her
domestic life. This story highlights her positive ideology, her refusal to
compromise with truth, and carries a subtle undertone of romantic love.
Adhura Syllabus
explores art, artists, and artistry. One character promises to create a
“syllabus of grief,” and the story ends on an open note, embodying
postmodern sensibilities. Its discourse recalls Nirmal Verma, Vinod Kumar
Shukla, and Priyamvad, while also evoking Elizabeth Bowen and Milan Kundera.
The unspoken love between Shekharjee and Pushpajee adds poignancy,
reminiscent of Monaj Das’s The Misty Hour.
Kuch Unse Puchhe, Jinhe Zindagi Ne Mara is
satirical, mocking Indian bureaucracy while weaving in mythological
references to the
Ramayana
and Angad. Awasthi critiques fraudulent sages who exploit devotees,
resisting closure in true postmodern fashion.
Dombh
explores pride and melancholy, while
Karwi Muskan
highlights a woman protagonist’s uncompromising pursuit of truth, layered
with romantic undertones. In
Underlines,
the recurring metaphor of “underline” threads through themes of disease,
fear of death, writer’s block, friendship, dissent, and love, making it a
multilayered narrative.
Five stories in the collection are
character-driven—Shobnom
Mosi,
Ramendrajee,
Rajbirjee,
Balla,
and
Chaturvedjee. Others, though not discussed here due to space,
are equally compelling. With
Sannad,
Dinesh Awasthi leaves a lasting imprint on contemporary Hindi literature,
offering a powerful collection that blends brevity, depth, and humanism.
Tatasthata opens with a man aged prematurely
by constant coughing and spitting. Initially suffocated, he indulges in
self-apology but gradually accepts his condition. His wife understands his
feelings. He acknowledges mortality and wonders if she will tire of him as
illness consumes him. Though illness confines him, his mental faculties
remain sharp. He contemplates writing before death but doubts his wife would
provide pen and paper. Four months before retirement, he suffers viral
fever. He hopes that taking leave will change his wife’s perception of him
as a workaholic. Gradually, he becomes inert. His wife, once irritated by
his friends’ visits, grows more tolerant. The story suggests that sympathy
is rarely found when sought, but often arrives unexpectedly. It explores
disease, death, and the bond between a dying man and his wife. At night, he
feels her caring hands without confession. Both shed tears, soaking their
pillows. As death approaches, compassion overwhelms him. The story ends with
symbolic gestures hinting at mortality.
Suboho Ka Chay
begins with a morning cup of tea,
sweetened with sugar to capture its full flavor. The protagonist muses that
his taste may change in the future but eventually stops thinking about it.
In his quest for understanding, he becomes allergic to over-analysis.
He was physically handicapped, and
this created complexities in his conduct. He often contemplated death in the
near future, which made him pensive. He realized that his negative thoughts
usually surfaced while drinking tea in the morning, though they did not
trouble him during supper or dinner. He thought of his neighbor, a man with
an aggressive temperament, who had survived Covid-19 but eventually seemed
extinguished. The imagery of a cup of milk wobbling and spilling onto the
ground symbolically reinforced this sense of decline.
Adam Theory ka Canvas portrays the plight of
a beggar who had been ill for some time. Out of false sympathy, people gave
him rotten food, and no one truly cared. One morning, he suddenly died. The
municipal van collected his body, and people hurried to dispose of it to
avoid the stench of decomposition. Death freed him from earthly suffering.
The story is both a social satire and a commentary on the deplorable
condition of beggars. Pandejee, reflecting on this, insists that begging is
not respectable but fails to grasp the compulsion behind it. He himself
suffers from sadness and pessimism, masking his plight by pretending
indifference. When a shop girl mistakenly gave him two thousand rupees, he
took fifteen days to return it. Yet when a woman gave him ten rupees extra
while selling mangoes, he returned it immediately. Pandejee’s actions reveal
his clear vision of society’s contradictions.
In
Woh Odhura,
the protagonist roams aimlessly around a railway station, a place many
consider suitable for passing time. He meets a learned vagabond who seeks
honest opinions about himself. Rajib, a retired teacher and friend, is also
present. Honest yet iconoclastic, Rajib is a social misfit. When four
friends gather, Rajib appears ill and trembling. One person mocks him, while
another accuses him of speaking like an autocrat. Despite his politeness,
Rajib becomes the target of ridicule. His death leaves his friends saddened,
realizing that life feels incomplete when a part of it is lost. Rabi, a poet
friend, writes primarily about nature. Rajib, meanwhile, watches pigeons
building nests, symbolizing persistence. Rabi falls in love with a college
teacher, but the relationship remains incomplete. The story philosophically
reflects on human existence, emphasizing that incompleteness breeds
dissatisfaction.
Rajbirjee is a character-centric story about
Rajbir, who lives in an apartment but avoids social interaction. When the
narrator finds him ill, he takes him to a doctor, where Rajbir is diagnosed
with typhoid. The narrator brings him medicine, and Rajbir develops
affection for him. Every Sunday, the narrator visits Rajbir’s home and is
warmly received. Rajbir, a writer of stories and articles, also worked as a
proofreader for a local publisher. Learning that the narrator is a professor
pleases him. Meanwhile, a violent group fight in the area, resulting in a
stabbing, dominates the media. Sharmajee, another local, helps people
generously but receives little respect, which irritates the narrator.
Television broadcasts a handwashing program that reaches thousands.
Rajbirjee, an insightful interpreter of psychology, never flaunts his
knowledge. Yet he grows paranoid about his work before sleep. He believes in
the transformative power of music. When the publishing house tries to
dominate him, he resigns and returns to his village to focus on cultivation.
He has lived there for twenty years, occasionally speaking with the narrator
by telephone. The narrator reflects on possibilities, leaving the story
open-ended.
Awasthi’s stories are not only
personal meditations but also sharp social critiques.
The story
Kuch Unse Puchhe, Jinhe Zindagi Ne Mara is full of mockery and
satire, targeting Indian bureaucracy. It incorporates mythological
references to the
Ramayana and the character of Angad. Awasthi
lashes out at fake sages who exploit their devotees. The story resists
closure, a hallmark of postmodern narrative.
Awasthi’s stories are not written for awards but as
warnings
to humanity: if we fail to love one another, we risk destroying ourselves.
His philanthropic attitude, sensitivity, and compassion permeate his
writing. Crisp and pithy, his stories capture readers’ attention from the
first line and sustain it until the end. They can be read in a single
sitting, yet their impact lingers.
Though some stories appear satirical, they overflow with empathy and
understanding. Awasthi experiments with form and content, employing
techniques of defamiliarization to make familiar experiences strange and
thought-provoking. Interestingly, while the collection is titled Sannad,
no story bears that name, underscoring his unconventional approach.
Ultimately, Awasthi writes not
with ink but with blood—his words pulsate with emotion, vision, and
humanism. His stories remind us that compassion is the true storehouse of
peace, and his contribution to contemporary Hindi literature is both
profound and enduring.
Title:
Sannad
Author: Dinesh Awasthi
Available:
Amazon